Swordsman's Regression: Reawakened as a Necromancer-Chapter 88: Straight for the Alpha

Percival exploded into motion, not toward the distant Elder, but into the heart of the Scuttler swarm.

He stopped trying to reach the controller. He would make the controller come to him.

Pushing his body weight to the left, he swung the massive blade from his right, pulling it into a wide, horizontal arc.

The silver blade edge, fueled by his monumental Strength, met the charging rock-shell of a Scuttler.

One would expect a clean cut, but instead, a catastrophic CRUNCH echoed as the scythe caved in the creature’s entire frontal armor, liquefying its inner mass and hurling the wreckage back into two others.

⸢War-Scythe’s Aspect: Grim Harvest — Increases cutting power on draw. 50% CHANCE OF EXPLOSIVE BURN DAMAGE WHEN EXECUTING PERFECT SWING + RAGE. Actively slows target movement at the 5th chain attack when charged with 4-chain attacks prior⸥

Percival used the follow-through to pivot. The scythe in his hand was now a deadly pendulum, its tip carved a deep furrow in the scorched floor before rising to hook another beast by the leg and yank it off its feet.

As the hooked Scuttler crashed down, Percival released the scythe with his left hand. His right flashed to his back. Lightpiercer slid from its hold in a seamless motion.

He drove the sword point-first through the fallen Scuttler’s eye cluster, ⸢Blessed Edge⸥ ensuring the blade punched deep into its rudimentary brain.

He kicked the corpse free, sheathed the sword, and reclaimed the scythe’s haft as he spun to meet the next wave.

All in one fluid, terrifying sequence.

High on its mount, the Magma Elder’s stone face finally showed a crack in its contempt. The glowing eyes narrowed. It raised both hands now, and more Scuttlers attacked.

Percival charged the new wave. He felt the ground beneath him start to shudder and he knew what was coming.

A volcanic geyser, triggered by the Elder most likely.

Percival jumped to his left as the geyser erupted to his right. Superheated steam and lava blasted outward.

Percival dropped into a slide, the scythe held flat above him. The deadly spray passed over, scalding the air.

He came up swinging, the scythe cleaving through the forelegs of a Scuttler that had tried to capitalize on his evasion.

When two more leaped at him, Percival swung the scythe again, casting a rupturing arc of Soulfire that struck the lizard crabs, sending them into a frenzy as they crashed on the hardened earth.

Around him, his Skeletons did their best to make his battle easier. They killed as many as they could, and drove themselves into approaching Scuttlers to draw their attention from their master.

But the endless numbers of Scuttlers were proving to be an unbeatable issue. Even with ⸢Soul Draught⸥—which Percival also had to regulate because of his mana deficiency—the Skeleton Soldiers were failing drastically to the powerful Scuttlers.

Two more Skeletons died; Skirmishers, though both had been the Silverwrought armor.

⸢Skeleton Soldier 34 and 40: Deceased⸥

Percival felt each loss like a spike of cold static in his mind. He was running out of time and minions.

Enough.

He planted the scythe into the ground, and raised the other to the black ceiling.

"⸢Blade Rain⸥."

His Swordsman mana took a savage hit. With the amount of Scuttlers here, the AoE demanded a much bigger mana input for an output.

But Percival was fine with spending his Swordsman mana. It wasn’t the one he was trying to manage.

Up in the rippling air, a massive dimension tore open into a giant silver portal. From its unseen depths, spectral swords descended into the Stone Land.

The sound of sinking swords filled the air.

The silver blades thunk deep into stone and shell alike. Scuttlers were pinned to the floor, shrieking and writhing, immobilized by swords through their limbs and carapaces.

Finally, a path, littered with struggling horrors, was momentarily cleared.

Percival narrowed his eyes.

All this while, not only had the Magma Elder been keeping its distance from Percival, but it also avoided the unwilling Hero from getting a direct eye sight of it.

Like it knew he had a Skill like ⸢Void Slash⸥.

He outstretched his hand and activated the Skill.

The Magma Elder, seeing its living barrier compromised, urged the Alpha Scuttler backward. The massive beast began to sink into the protective lake.

The slash tore into the air above the beast, the second stuck it on its skull.

With a glare on his face, Percival watched the Magma Elder grin as it escaped.

"Oh no you don’t," He growled.

He sped into chase, triggering ⸢Blade Aura⸥.

A visible corona of raw, silver energy erupted from his body, surrounding him and the weapon in his hands.

His Speed, Strength, Perception—everything surged. The air crackled with power. With the buff, Percival felt faster, sharper, invincible.

He ran straight for the Alpha.

As the colossal crab-monster submerged, Percival leaped, pushing his body higher and farther with pure, aura-enhanced might.

He soared over the lake of fire, the heat blistering the paint on his armor. He landed on the Alpha’s sinking head, just between its stalked eyes.

The Magma Elder, so close now Percival could see the cracks in its stone skin, glared at him. That smug smile was gone now.

It raised one hand to summon lava... or Scuttlers.

Percival didn’t give it time to find out.

He reversed his grip on the War-Scythe, raised it high, and with a growl of rage-driven effort, drove it downward.

A vertical arc of death mana followed the curved edge, and that struck the Magma Elder as it tried to retreat.

The coated tip of the scythe however—it struck the Alpha’s mythril-hard shell and did not slow.

It did not crack or splinter. It simply passed through, as if the armor were a mirage.

The blade buried itself to the haft in the beast’s neural core.

The Alpha Scuttler’s entire body seized. Its million-year evolutionary journey ended in absolute, silent paralysis.

Then, like a mountain whose heart had stopped, it began to sink like stone.

The Magma Elder was thrown, tumbling through the air to land with a heavy thud on the solid shore, his staff clanging close to a boiling lake of fire.

Percival landed in a crouch beside it, his Blade Aura still blazing gold. The Elder, stunned, tried to rise, to crawl back to the staff, to call more children to its aid.

Percival watched for a pathetic second, then swung the scythe in a sweeping arc aimed for its lower section.

The curved blade hooked perfectly behind the Elder’s ankle of solid basalt.

"Come here," Percival roared lowly.