PATH OF THE STAR HUNTER

159 Chapter 159 The Great Necromancer Araszh

Araszh, a long-forgotten name, was once the most powerful necromancer Erack’s world has ever seen, “Arazh enick orizae” in an ancient language meant: the dark ruler Araszh; that was the motto his legions of the undead shouted as they swept the entire world.

His name resounded across the three continents and inspired terror over mortals for a long time, but he made a mistake. The necromancer was in love with the holy priestess of the moon who also happened to be the princess of the moon race ruler of one of the three continents.

Araszh attacked the temple where the princess was and slaughtered his way to her in an attempt to kidnap her and have her forever as his wife; in the end, he fail.

After that none of the three great races tolerated the corrupt existence of the necromancer anymore and they formed a powerful legion to destroy him. The necromancer was powerful and his legion tireless, but in fighting against Erack’s most powerful champions he didn’t stand a chance.

In the end, he was destroyed by the princess of the moon, the woman he was sickly in love with, all traces and record of his existence was destroyed; The three great races feared that someday another necromancer would wreak havoc and bring death upon their lands.

The necromancers were heavily attacked for decades until they became completely extinct and all knowledge of their profane art was destroyed along with them, only then did the three great races feel safe and the threat of Araszh was left in the past.

Or so they thought, using means unknown to the world the necromancer had managed to preserve his corpse and turn himself into one of his creations; an undead.

But he was different, he had a conscience, intelligence. . . a soul. And that had a price, it took centuries to complete his resurrection and the strength of his past had been lost, but nothing of this matters. . . no, he knew that with enough time he would fill the three continents with death and terror, thus completing his revenge.

Everything was going according to plan, the poor innocent souls who crossed his burial place one by one became part of his new undead legion, soon their numbers were accumulating and powerful magical beasts became his puppets day by day.

.....

Until one day he felt like many of his puppets were destroyed, he at first thought it was probably just a magical beast that encountered his abominations and destroyed them; When the days passed and his puppets continued to die in large numbers, he was forced to change his mind.

He mobilized the revived magical beasts in an attempt to destroy those who invaded his domain, but they also succumbed, it was then that he began to feel fear, fear that someone would remember the legend of yesteryear, fear that someone else would search him; afraid of not being able to complete his revenge.

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And so he sent squad after squad to destroy the threat. . . but they were not enough, his enemies were not as powerful as his enemies were in the past, but he was not as strong as he once was, and now he was in danger.

Araszh had lived during a time of wars and heroes, he knew how those pretentious and naive idiots thought, he had killed many of them; so he prepared an ambush with his deadliest necrotic beasts, when those pesky insects entered the trap they would be eaten without leaving even a bone behind.

The necromancer waited patiently minute after minute, but his guests did not come, he was not impatient, he had waited centuries to resurrect; he could wait a little longer.

The villain of an ancient era just waited one more minute before noises of something coming down the cave echoed and alerted him to their presence, there was something strange about the sounds, but Araszh wasn’t worried about that; Even in his weakened state he was a threat to reckon with and with his necrotic hounds accompanying him, he had perfect self-confidence.

One can imagine the surprise of the ancient necromancer when he saw that a couple of barrels fell into his chambers instead of a couple of people, he stood there looking puzzled at a couple of barrels; These were badly damaged by the fall and spilled a liquid of an unknown nature.

′′ poison? Since when heroes use poison, that’s usually the job of villains like me; Besides, don’t you know that the undead is not afraid of poison? Are they idiots? ′′ The necromancer spoke in a deep and bizarre tone as if his vocal cords had dried up while he did not try to hide his disdain for the tactics of his enemies.

One could only imagine the expression on his cadaverous face when he saw that the so-called “heroes” had not used poison against him as he had thought at first, but they had gone directly to “burn the castle with the king inside” as they say in these lands.

It’s just that that was a phrase that referred to the cruelty of the villains while they ravaged innocent lives without respecting even the nobility, but who could hope that the poor necromancer would not face the much-mentioned heroes and instead he was facing a pragmatist like Desmond who only cared about the results.

In Desmond’s mind, a good enemy is a dead enemy, the method didn’t matter; whether it was fire or poison it made no difference in the mind of the young hunter who had already solved problems in the past with both of them.

When the necromancer saw the fire serpent rushing towards the barrels he was incredibly furious, the cowards had decided to burn him alive inside the cave; but would Araszh fall so easily? He never mustered all the power he could and managed to summon a shield of dark miasma that protected him from the blast and the flames that followed.

Using the deadly mana he had accumulated for weeks within this cave the necromancer gathered enough power to put out the fire and escape alive from the hell that had become his resting place.

It’s just that he was the only survivor, his powerful undead hounds had been vaporized by the explosion that had occurred right in front of them and the necromancer thus lost one of the largest cards in his hand.

Looking around him and feeling the enormous amount of necrotic miasma that he had to expend to survive the blast and fire, Araszh was furious; in his anger, he no longer cares about waiting and ambushing his enemies. . . no, now he just wanted to be able to feast as he tore apart his enemy′s tendons one by one.

It was because of this that he recklessly left the interior of the cave only to find a young human of no more than twenty years, eyes blue as sapphires and hair black as night; The young man was now aiming a magic bow at him that emanated powerful mana fluctuations due to the arrow that had been placed in it.

Only then did Araszh realize that if he continued to underestimate his opponent there was a real possibility that he would manage to destroy him, but he had little time to think over when he saw the young man drop the bowstring and felt a powerful penetrating force hit the center of his chest.