Jackal Among Snakes

Chapter 638: Justified Fear of the Unknown

From the beginning, their group had agreed upon some strategies. One such strategy was a devastating opening salvo combining the grim virtues of necromancy and Argrave’s blood magic. As the dull steps of the Shadowlanders filled the air before them, Bhaltair, founder of the Order of the Rose, tapped Argrave’s shoulder.

“Bhaltair speaking,” he said quietly, predatory orange eyes gleaming. He was a large man, bulging with fat in places that hardly seemed possible. “Fifteen blades should suffice for the first wave. Over.”

Argrave gave him a nod, then sent out blood echoes. He spent the whole of them to conjure fifteen swords of his black blood, and they fell into the white ground ahead. Bhaltair moved to the center of this circle of blades, then gripped the bottom of his jaw. He unhinged it, then gray flesh spewed forth out of his mouth like something highly pressurized had just removed its lid. Undead beings resembling goblins sprawled out over the floor, already moving to grip the blades Argrave had prepared. They rushed into combat, moving with an animalistic grace. Bhaltair had lost some weight after he expunged what was inside—unlike most people, he had a genuine excuse for his obese appearance. He stored undead inside his body.

With Bhaltair’s undead facing one side equipped with black-blooded weapons, Argrave was content to consider that front held. The reason why became immediately clear—their frontrunner undead held his hand out, and Bhaltair cast an S-rank spell through it. Much like Argrave’s blood echoes, Bhaltair could cast spells at a distance—unlike Argrave, he wasn’t limited in rank, and his undead were merely a conduit for his magic rather than a reservoir.

A great blast of colorless electricity erupted from the undead and buffeted the coming Shadowlanders. Shortly after, Bhaltair’s undead fell upon the hardest hit, swinging their weapons in brutal arcs. As the blades Argrave conjured bit into their stone-like flesh, Argrave felt their life energy pass to Anneliese. She, in turn, replenished everyone’s supply of magic with the wellspring of power.

The dragon roared in the dead voice that everyone shared, and Argrave looked up at it. It soared through the air toward them.

“Archchief speaking,” he said, using his title instead of his name—perhaps arrogance, or perhaps it was because he genuinely preferred to go by that. “I’ll take to the skies. That thing, and other fliers, poses the greatest threat. I’ll keep it off us. Over.”

Without further ado, he clambered aboard his zombified wyvern and lifted off with tremendous speed. Argrave decided to trust the confidence of the southern tribal, turning back to the three most vulnerable fronts. To call it vulnerable, though, implied they were at risk of being overrun. They cast S-rank spells recklessly, knowing Anneliese could replenish what was lost. The Shadowlanders, however, took the damage like they were arrows instead of great bombs. To end them, one needed exceptional firepower—and Argrave intended to provide.Upstodatee from

S-rank blood magic was few and far between. Few casters had the desire, the talent in the field, or above all, the simple lifeforce to cast a sacrificial spell of that magnitude without dying. The few that did were not human. Vampires were the most common higher blood mages. They expected their supernatural body to regenerate any damage done. Argrave expected rather the same, but a pure S-rank blood magic spell was far different than an S-rank elemental spell infused with blood magic.

Still, Argrave declared a ceasefire to his allies and walked forth, bringing to the front of his mind the terrible spell known as [Apollyon]. He completed the spell with his right hand outstretched toward the approaching Shadowlanders.

of his blood to free themselves. Locusts of black blood erupted out of his hand, leaving half a thousand holes for their fellows following soon after. Were they outside of this realm, Argrave could

to replenish what was vanishing. His wounds closed rapidly, and the locusts again began to emerge only from his hand. Argrave kept an intense focus, manipulating his

consumed, bursting into colorless fire for half a second before vanishing entirely beneath their biting teeth and cutting wings. They spread out mindlessly, seeking any movement

later they burst out of it from eight directions. An octopus spat inky darkness at them, but it was all burnt away seconds before the bugs fell upon it and erased it from the world. An abyssal mole-man sought shelter inside the earth of the plateau, yet the locusts tore through the earth to remove him. Their reckless pursuit broke away

chose to jump off the plateau rather than meet this cloud of death, yet still the locust swarm followed. Argrave could feel his creations tearing through enemies that had not yet arrived at this summit. When nothing more came, they dispersed into the Shadowlands, eating away at the endless

note that it's taken without the author's consent.

taken upon him when his knees buckled, and he fell to the grass. The spell finally finished, unleashing its hold on his vitality.

this spell did so with the intention they should eat away anything except blood. There was no blood here, so they destroyed without an end. If Argrave hadn’t the benefit of Anneliese, who could replenish him based off what he killed… that may well

Gray Owl. “We can handle the ground from here, but the Archchief seems overwhelmed holding

as a support. He looked up. The Archchief stood aback his wyvern, holding its reins tightly with one hand while the other cast spells that buffeted away the dragon that sought to

Argrave thought it was time for good

elves. “Ghislain. I need you to hide a largescale attack. Those fliers seem maneuverable enough to dodge if they see it coming. Can you conceal over a thousand projectiles

can, over,” the man confirmed

infused with his blood. Meanwhile, he waited a few moments for his vitality to recover, then took a familiar

me, if you

with his fingers, and soon enough, each of the malignant looking eels faded away until

speaking. Aurore, tell the Archchief to fall back to the ground if he

spell inside. Then, she craned her neck. When she