Chapter 30: Osteoporosis

As the words fell, the necromancer flicked his wrist, and several more bone spikes flew toward them like arrows.

*It triggered a combat encounter, after all...*

Eric had no time for frustration. He leaped backward as the leading bone spikes slammed directly into the ground where he had just stood, shattering on impact. Even so, several more remained in mid-air, aimed squarely at him.

*Clang-clang-clang-clang-clang!*

Too late to dodge, Eric could only hold his sword horizontally to parry. Every single bone spike struck the blade, vibrating the metal so hard his hand went numb.

Back in the cavern, Fland had produced a staff. As he waved it, a thick, swirling mass of black fog began to expand toward them. Before his vision was obscured, Eric saw dozens of slender bone spikes floating up behind the old man.

"Young Master!"

Once the fighting broke out, Leslie abandoned his plan to fetch reinforcements and turned back to fight alongside him.

Eric spun around and shoved him. "Run! We can't beat him—get back to the rest of the party!"

He began to dash away himself without hesitation. As they crossed paths, he signaled with his left hand, and Leslie understood immediately. The hall was covered in green fire; entering it meant certain death. Regardless of whether they found reinforcements, they had to lure the necromancer out first.

Leslie nodded and ran after him. The old man’s hearing was unnervingly sharp, so they could only communicate this way. As a fifth-tier warrior, Leslie’s hearing was equally acute; he hadn't run more than a few steps before he heard the sound of air being sliced behind him.

Bone spikes!

He slowed his pace slightly, pivoted, and unleashed a spinning slash, knocking the incoming spikes out of the air.

Meanwhile, the black fog released by the necromancer surged forward, filling the tunnel and almost completely blinding them.

*Whoosh!*

A bone spike burst through the fog, aiming straight for Leslie’s face. He raised his sword to block.

*Clang!*

He easily deflected that one, but his expression shifted: three more were flying toward him simultaneously!

Leslie had no time to hesitate. He tilted his blade upward to intercept the two spikes aimed at his vitals, while kicking off the ground to try and dodge the last one.

*Can I make it?*

No. It was too close.

The spike struck his chainmail, blocked by the steel rings; it failed to pierce him, but the residual force left his chest aching. Immediately after, he heard the sound of more arrows cutting through the air.

*More spikes...*

He didn't know how many more he would have to endure. As he retreated, Leslie realized the black fog severely hindered his vision, leaving him almost no time to react. He had to prioritize protecting his vital points.

*It’s such a headache for a warrior to face an enemy with such long-range capabilities who won't just let you charge in and cut them down...*

*Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!*

The bone spikes tore through the mist. Leslie slashed and parried, managing to neutralize eight or nine out of ten of the necromancer’s attacks through sheer, sharp reflexes.

*Clang!*

A sword extended from the side, parrying the final two spikes.

"Young Master..."

"Run!"

Eric didn't stop even after blocking the attack. "What’s the point of fighting him here? He’ll just keep throwing his mother’s and father’s bones at us, and then his grandfather’s and grandmother’s—it’s endless!"

"...Understood!"

Leslie followed immediately, wiping sweat from his brow. *The Young Master has such a sharp tongue... He didn't seem to react when the old man insulted him earlier, but he was clearly furious.*

They picked up their pace and soon reached a bend in the tunnel. No matter how fast the necromancer's bone spikes flew, they couldn't turn corners, so they were no longer a threat.

Leslie poked his head out to look at the fog-filled tunnel. Judging that the old man couldn't hear them anymore, he lowered his voice. "Will he really follow us?"

"If he doesn't want to die, he will. If it weren't for those traps, the two of us could have finished him off alone, let alone with reinforcements. He won't let us return to the party easily... even if he knows this is a trap to lure him out."

As Eric spoke, he also peered back. Suddenly remembering something, he chanted a low incantation and tossed a sphere of illumination into the black fog.

Like a hot knife through snow, wherever the white light touched, the black mist vanished, leaving not a trace behind in the blink of an eye.

"Almost forgot that the Light spell has a dispelling effect."

With the fog gone, the old necromancer was revealed, hastily retreating back into the main hall. He clearly hadn't expected these two warriors to have a way to clear his mist.

"Was he trying to get close and ambush us? A mage like him?" Leslie felt a mix of lingering fear and frustration at a missed opportunity. He was certain that if he could just get within arm’s reach of that old man, he could end this.

"Cornered beasts fight back. If he doesn't risk it now, when will he?" Eric had experienced the necromancer's methods firsthand and didn't underestimate him as much as his captain of the guard did. "The black fog hides his spellcasting, and he isn't as fragile as he looks. His physical body has been augmented. I don't know about his strength, but he’s durable enough to take a hit. The chance of a successful ambush was high."

Leslie looked into the hall. "But since the Young Master cleared his fog, it seems he can only watch us leave now."

"Then let's run. He has nowhere else to go, and we have reinforcements." Eric had just turned his head when he caught a glimpse of the old man moving, so he quickly looked back.

Fland was gripping his staff with both hands, slamming it into the ground and beginning a rapid incantation.

"What is he doing?" As a warrior, Leslie was inherently uneasy about magical methods he didn't understand.

"Such a long incantation... it looks like he’s summoning minions..." Eric frowned. "But did he have that staff-slamming move before?"

"Before?"

Eric had no time to answer Leslie's question, as he suddenly heard movement from the other side of the tunnel.

They were the only two in this section of the mine, and since there was no fighting, even the slightest sound traveled clearly. The two exchanged a look. Leslie asked, "Are the people we left behind coming over?"

"Doesn't look like it..." Eric had a premonition. He chanted to create another light sphere and threw it down the path they had come from. It hadn't flown far before it illuminated a dozen shaky skeleton frames in the tunnel.

The undead minions Fland summoned were coming from the *other* side of the tunnel!

This was a situation Eric had never encountered before. In all his past battles, the necromancer couldn't summon undead out of thin air; the skeletons in the boss fight were always ripped from the walls and could be spotted the moment you entered the hall. The tunnel they had just traveled through only had traps. Where did these things come from?

*Traps?*

Eric suddenly realized their source: the bones from the pitfall traps!

So those were also the necromancer’s summons. No wonder he had to slam his staff into the ground to cast the spell... Eric was astonished, and even felt a bit of admiration for the man's deep planning.

Under the light, the bones looked ghastly, and the *clatter-clatter* sound of their frames colliding as they moved was irritatingly incessant.

"Young Master..." With their path blocked, Leslie didn't panic, gripping his sword in preparation for battle.

"Let's go." Eric flicked his blade, coating it in a layer of golden light. "Cut them all down."

The two charged into the skeletons. These soldiers had numbers, but their quality was limited to those numbers alone; individually, they were quite fragile.

*Crack!*

The skeletons had no flesh. Eric swung his sword, cutting one from shoulder to hip, then followed up with a horizontal sweep that dismantled the frame entirely, scattering it across the ground.

"You've got osteoporosis, you need some calcium."

Stomping on a skull that rolled to his feet, Eric lunged forward to strike the next one.

Leslie charged deeper and faster, his movements broad and powerful. A single horizontal sweep around his body scattered four or five skeletons at once. Eric suddenly remembered that the captain of the guard was more adept with a greatsword.

However, as handsome as the charge was, it wasn't very effective. The frames Leslie knocked apart would tremble for a moment before crawling back together, as if trying to reassemble.

"Damn it... I should have brought a vial of holy water."

It wasn't Leslie’s first time seeing this; he quickly recalled that these undead had a regenerative trait—under normal circumstances, you had to kill them twice to finish them for good.

Holy-attribute attacks could eliminate this trait. Eric’s sword, imbued with the *Holy Verdict* effect, could kill them in one strike. Applying holy water would achieve a similar result.

"Just knock them apart; I’ll finish them off," Eric said. They were caught in a pincer, so they had to break through the formation first.

The captain of the guard continued his rampage through the skeleton formation. Eric followed behind, poking here and slashing there. The skeletons that were halfway through reassembling were scattered again and crushed underfoot.

There were truly a lot of them. The two of them fought their way through, but they had only destroyed about half; there was no telling how many bones were buried in those traps.

While these skeletons couldn't stop them, they were slowing their escape. Sensing something wrong behind him, Eric glanced back. The black fog was rolling in once more from the rear tunnel.

The necromancer was catching up!

Kicking aside a bone claw that reached for his calf, Eric immediately began chanting a Light spell to disperse it.

*Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!*

The necromancer repeated his old trick, firing a volley of bone spikes. Eric couldn't finish his chant and was forced to shove the fist-sized light orb forward, raising his sword to dodge and parry.

*Clang!*

The bone spikes shattered against his blade. The tiny light orb that flew into the fog only melted a tunnel the width of half an arm, which was quickly filled again by the encroaching mist.

Yet, in that brief moment, Eric saw that the necromancer, Fland, was indeed hiding in the fog, waiting to strike!

"Leslie!"

The captain of the guard was still tearing through the skeleton formation. Eric retreated while calling out to him, "Cover me!"

With a single sweep of his sword, Leslie cleared the area around him and immediately turned to guard the Young Master. As soon as Eric stood his ground, he began chanting the next Light spell.

If they didn't disperse the fog, the disadvantage would be too great.

*Whoosh!*

More spikes flew out. Leslie raised his sword to block, his eyes suddenly widening.

Seeing his body jerk violently, Eric felt a surge of alarm.

"...Leslie?"

There was no answer. The captain of the guard spun around abruptly, holding his sword high, his eyes glowing blood-red.