The Third Return of the Necrotic Magic Swordsman

High above the clouds, a massive eagle cut through the crimson dusk—its wings wide enough to eclipse the fading sun.

A lone man rode upon its back, his gaze distant, his thoughts heavier than the winds that carried him.

It was Evan.

He stared blankly at the horizon, voice low against the rushing air.

”What just happened…? Why did that occur right after the Legacy?”

His eyes still burned faintly, echoing something far deeper than fatigue.

A few hours earlier...

The moment Evan left the town’s outskirts, something inside him began to shift.

His head throbbed.

His vision darkened.

It felt as though an invisible weight had been dropped upon his very soul.

Within moments, consciousness slipped away.

He collapsed forward, landing face-first into the eagle’s thick feathers.

The great bird flinched midair, confused by its master’s sudden silence.

It tilted its wings, about to descend—until a faint whisper echoed in its mind.

”...Don’t stop. Keep flying.”

It was Evan’s last command before blacking out.

Bound by the pact of obedience, the eagle obeyed, maintaining its altitude but halving its speed.

It dared not risk losing him to the sky.

That choice—faithful, but fateful—would cost dearly.

For hours, the eagle flew under the bleeding sun while its master lay unconscious, unmoving.

By the time Evan’s eyes opened again, twilight had already draped the world in violet haze.

He blinked several times, disoriented, then frowned as he recognised the terrain below.

”Where are we...?” he rasped, his voice hoarse. ”We should’ve reached the castle by now.”

His gaze snapped down to the eagle.

”Did you... slow down?”

The words came sharper than steel.

Before the beast could react, Evan’s boot slammed into its back, nearly sending both plummeting through the clouds.

The eagle screeched, wings flaring desperately to steady itself.

”Damn it!” Evan growled. ”We’re late! Sylen’s probably finished the raid already!”

Rage flooded through him, wild and unrestrained. His vision pulsed red, his aura boiling with killing intent.

He almost struck again—until a calm voice echoed in his mind.

”Enough.”

A spark of light flickered beside him.

Arven appeared, eyes half-lidded, expression faintly amused.

”Seems even you aren’t immune to the Abyss’s false veil,” Arven murmured. ”Hold still.”

He raised his hand and snapped his fingers.

In that instant, time seemed to still.

Evan’s hazy eyes cleared, and the pounding in his skull faded like mist burned by sunlight.

He blinked in confusion.

The small crater beneath the eagle’s flight path told him enough—he’d almost killed his own summon.

With a quiet sigh, he lifted his hand and muttered,

”.”

Dark light spread across the eagle’s back, knitting away damage and mending feathers.

Then, exhaling deeply, he turned to Arven.

”What the hell happened?”

Arven folded his arms.

”Your soul reacted to the Ruler’s Authority—specifically, the corrupted version given by the Monolith. When the True Ruler’s Authority overwrote it, your soul went through violent readjustment. The emotional surge you felt was a side effect. I removed the corrupted imprint, but... one thing remains.”

Evan frowned.

”What thing?”

Arven’s voice softened, evasive.

”Nothing you need to worry about now.”

Before Evan could press further, Arven continued,

”As for your fainting—the readjustment pushed your body into a temporary unconscious state. I ordered your summons to slow down to keep you from falling. Don’t complain too much, you’re only a few kilometers away from the castle now.”

Evan’s expression eased slightly.

Arven went on, his tone matter-of-fact.

”Even if you’d arrived earlier, Sylen would still be fighting. Lords aren’t mere beasts—they’re entities above the common hierarchy. These titles are earned in blood and chaos, not granted by merit. They’re on another level entirely.”

Evan nodded slowly.

He sat back down, resting a hand on the eagle’s neck.

”...Sorry,” he muttered. ”You can’t understand me, but still, that wasn’t right. Even if I wasn’t in control, I’ll never mistreat my summons again.”

A faint chuckle echoed in his mind.

Arven’s tone was amused.

”Hah. Talking to undead soldiers now? Still, it’s good to see you remember compassion.”

Then he faded away, merging back into Evan’s soul.

Evan exhaled, opened his map, and confirmed his location—less than four kilometers from the Beast Lord’s domain.

The Lord’s Castle stood at the heart of a forest teeming with mystery.

Stone walls wrapped in thorny vines.

Shadows slithering between ancient roots.

The air itself whispered coldness.

Few who scouted the place ever returned—and those who did spoke of horrors unseen.

One survivor, years ago, described how his companions vanished all at once, their signals cut clean as if devoured by the air.

They were strong, too. Scouts of high grade.

Yet whatever killed them struck simultaneously from kilometers apart.

A curse? A spirit? A predator that transcended flesh?

No one knew.

And not a single soul had ever seen the Lord’s true form and lived to speak of it.

But Evan had faced worse.

He’d stared down Overlords and escaped the grasp of a King-class Ruler before.

One Lord was nothing new.

’Still,’ he thought, eyes narrowing, ’if Arven’s wrong and both Sylen clones are here, this will be difficult.’

He scanned the area below.

The land surrounding the forest was dead—barren soil, no trace of flora or fauna.

Yet within the castle’s ring, life thrived unnaturally, pulsing with monstrous vitality.

Wolves. Dozens. Hundreds.

Their corpses littered the outer edge, surrounded by others still prowling the underbrush.

’So... a Wolf Lord,’ Evan mused.

But as he focused his senses, his brow furrowed.

There were Alphas among them—high-tier beasts—and they were searching for something, snarling into the night.

If they were still alive, it meant the Lord himself wasn’t an Alpha.

Which only made things more confusing.

’So the main body still lives... and Sylen hasn’t killed it yet.’

A thin smile crept across his lips.

”Interesting. Maybe this will go my way after all.”

The castle loomed ahead, massive and ancient, a ruin swallowed by vines and moonlight.

Evan motioned for his eagle to descend quietly, cloaking both of them in concealment skills.

Moments later, they touched down on the rooftop.

He dismissed his summons to ease the mana strain, then stepped forward, surveying the architecture.

It was unmistakably human in design.

Columns, ramparts, even window-sized holes—cracked and dulled by time.

”Did the Lord force humans to build this?” Evan murmured. ”Wouldn’t be surprising.”

Then something below caught his eye.

The main gate.

Blood. Corpses.

Fifty wolves, maybe more—even Alpha’s slain in a single strike.

He crouched, studying the cuts.

Clean. Controlled.

A blade.

’Sylen,’ he thought grimly. ’They’ve already entered.’

He clenched his fist.

’If they reach the Beast Lord first, my plan’s ruined.’

Without hesitation, he began descending—only to stop and extend a hand.

”Let’s make sure no one leaves alive.”

He whispered a command.

The fallen wolves twitched, bones cracking, eyes glowing with faint green light.

”Guard the gate,” he ordered softly. ”No one leaves this castle alive.”

Their guttural howls answered him as he vanished into the shadows below.

A narrow window led him into the dim interior—a stone corridor lined with narrow slits of light.

He crouched beside one, peering through.

And what he saw in the grand hall beyond made his eyes narrow sharply.

...

Inside the hall, moments earlier…

The Twilight team advanced through the shattered gates, stepping over the blood-soaked corpses of wolves. The air was thick with the stench of iron and smoke.

At the front, Sylen led them with calm precision, his blade still dripping from his earlier kills. He had slain three Alpha Wolves—each a peak-tier monster of the Expanse—with effortless, single strokes.

Their morale rose with every step he took.

”Don’t waste time looting,” he commanded, voice steady and sharp. ”No one’s coming here after us. We’ll take everything when this is over.”

The team obeyed. None noticed the faint glint in the eyes of the dead wolves behind them—nor the small ripple that passed through the roots along the castle walls.

The castle itself was an ancient ruin swallowed by nature, its stone walls strangled by vines and roots thick as serpents. As they moved deeper, the corridors twisted like veins, leading them toward a vast hall glowing faintly with light-stones.

At its end stood a throne — woven from roots, bones, and the forest’s own heart.

They entered cautiously. Sylen raised a hand. Two mages stepped forward and cast Light Orbs, illuminating the hall in a soft, eerie glow. Shadows retreated, but something darker remained — hiding, breathing.

Then, Sylen froze.

”Stop,” he ordered quietly. ”There’s something at the far end. Strong.”

Every weapon was drawn in an instant.

”Kate, Lis. Fusion spell. Now.”

The two mages nodded and began chanting, their mana intertwining — flame and lightning swirling together into a single, massive orb.

It roared with unstable power before they launched it toward the far corner.

But just as it hit—

The presence vanished.

The blast struck empty space, detonating into a storm of fire and crackling thunder that scorched the wall and lit the air in gold and blue.

Sylen’s jaw tightened. ”It moved…?”

Before he could react, something stirred.

A low, guttural growl filled the hall, vibrating through stone and bone. Then, from the smoke, it stepped forward.

Every member froze.

It wasn’t a beast. Nor a man.

The creature walked upright on two clawed legs, its body a perfect fusion of human muscle and lupine ferocity — a Lycan.

Its fur shimmered in patches of silver and black, its eyes glowing with a faint crimson hue.

Sylen raised his sword slightly. ”A Lycan… makes sense. A hybrid of wolf and man. The lord of this place.”

He glanced at his team. ”Stay calm. It bleeds like any other monster.”

But before his reassurance could settle, the creature did something none expected.

It spoke.

”Huu… mannnn… I… knaaww… why… you… are… heeere…”

The words were broken, guttural — yet intelligible enough to chill everyone to the bone.

Sylen’s expression hardened. Intelligent Lords were rare, but this was worse. A speaking monster meant a cunning one.

He forced a grin. ”Then you already know what comes next.”

The Lycan Lord’s lips pulled into something that might’ve been a smile.

”Hahahah… thhheeeen… preeepaare… to… dieeeee!”

The ground trembled. Mana burst from its body like a shockwave, shaking the hall. Flames guttered out. The air turned heavy, suffocating. Every lesser member’s knees buckled from the sheer killing intent alone.

”Steady!” Sylen shouted over the rising chaos. ”You stand with me — the strongest adventurer in the expanse! Don’t falter!”

Elya gritted her teeth, forming a protective barrier for the ranged members behind her using some artifact. ”His aura’s overwhelming… It’s like facing death itself.”

A scout’s voice trembled, ”Sir! The System’s detected its name! It’s—”

A blood-red title shimmered above the monster’s head:

[]

The entire team fell silent.

A true Lord-ranked Ruler indeed.

”Attackers, with me!” Sylen barked. ”Defenders, protect the backline! Elya, hold the formation!”

The team roared in unison, forcing courage into their throats as they charged.

Beyth didn’t move at first. He just stared — as if amused.

Then he lunged.

The throne exploded behind him as he crossed the hall in a blur of motion. The first swordsman barely saw a flash before a claw the size of a shield came down toward his head—

”Not on my watch!” Sylen appeared in front of him, intercepting the blow with a deafening clang. The force sent a shockwave through the hall, hurling soldiers backwards like rag dolls.

Cracks spidered beneath their feet.

Dust rained from the ceiling.

The Lycan’s glowing eyes narrowed. ”You… are… strooong…”

Sylen smirked, blood dripping from his knuckles where the impact had burst through his gloves. ”And you talk too much.”

He twisted his sword and forced the Lycan’s claw aside with raw strength.

Behind him, Elya’s voice rang out — ”Support, NOW!”

Mana flared from the rear as mages began their chants. Archers aimed. The clash of man and monster had begun — and neither side intended to retreat alive.

The beast’s claws gleamed under the flickering mana light, itching to tear through flesh.

Beyth’s grin widened, fangs glinting as bloodlust pulsed through his veins. His hulking frame leaned forward, every muscle trembling with the hunger to kill.

Sylen’s arms shook. His palms were raw, his bones screaming from the impact of the last clash.

That single blow had nearly shattered him.

Beyth tilted his head, crimson eyes narrowing with wicked amusement.

He had measured his prey.

And found them.... weak.

With a low growl, he vanished—then reappeared before Sylen in a burst of afterimages. His claw swept forward, a blur that howled through the air.

”Not this time!”

Sylen’s roar cracked through the chaos as mana exploded around him. Blue light crawled up his arm, hardening his skin like tempered steel. He met Beyth’s strike head-on.

The ground ruptured beneath them. Stone split, and wind screamed through the hall.

But even as he blocked the hit, Sylen’s legs buckled. His mana flared wildly, struggling to keep pace. Beyth’s strength was overwhelming—every collision sent a shockwave down Sylen’s spine.

They were close in speed, but not in power.

Not even close.

Elya’s gaze darted across the battlefield, her hair whipping with the gale. Her eyes flashed toward the backline.

”Is the buff ready?”

”Almost, Vice-Captain! Just a few—”

”Hurry!” she snapped, voice sharp with command. ”Sylen won’t last another exchange!”

”The array’s stable! Ready to deploy on your order!”

”Then what are you waiting for? Activate it now!”

The formation circle behind them flared to life.

”!”

A radiant emblem—wolf’s head crowned by a crescent moon—blazed above the team. Layers of buffs fused, each support pouring their mana into one grand creation.

A howling mana surge rippled through the air.

The attackers trembled as energy flooded their bodies. Their vision sharpened. Their movements quickened.

Their hearts pounded in rhythm with the wolf’s cry echoing through the hall.

”Now!” Elya barked. ”Push forward!”

The frontliners charged, fanning out in perfect formation. Swords, spears, and spells converged on Beyth like a storm.

The Beast Lord snarled, blocking and tearing through the attacks—but this time, he was being pushed back.

”Ha… you bas*ards actually learned that teamformation,” Sylen muttered, chest heaving as he fell back toward the rear.

He barely made it before collapsing to one knee.

Elya caught his arm before he hit the ground—her eyes flicked to his hands, slick with blood.

”Sylen—your hands—”

”It’s nothing,” he grunted. ”Just a scratch.”

She ignored him. ”Healers, now!”

Two healers rushed over, chanting in unison. Soft green light washed over Sylen’s arms, knitting torn muscles and sealing ruptured veins.

”Don’t waste mana on me,” Sylen started, but stopped as Elya shot him a glare sharp enough to cut steel.

He sighed, chuckling quietly. ”You really hate losing control, huh?”

Elya looked away, faint colour rising in her ears. ”Just… don’t die before I give the order.”

He smirked. ”Yes, ma’am.”

On the battlefield, the tide had turned. The Twilight Wolf’s territory pulsed with synchronised power. Every strike from the frontliners landed with precision; every spell intertwined like threads of moonlight.

Beyth staggered backwards, his monstrous hide now scarred and bleeding. The once-mighty aura around him flickered.

But then—he smiled.

”You’ve..... done.... well…” His guttural voice rolled like thunder. ”But..... you think..... this is all I am?”

His body hunched, muscles convulsing as mana began to swirl around him. The deathly aura vanished—replaced by something far worse.

Pure, condensed malice.

Mana veins lit across his body like cracks in molten stone. The air turned heavy. Even breathing felt like swallowing blades.

”Everyone—get back!” Sylen shouted, alarm flooding his voice. ”NOW!”

But it was too late.

Beyth slammed his claws into the ground.

A roar tore through the hall—then came the explosion.

Light and sound fused into one deafening blast.

Walls disintegrated. Floors cracked open. The entire chamber shuddered under the force.

Elya’s scream was drowned in the chaos.

Flames and debris swallowed the team whole.

And then—silence.

Only the echo of destruction lingered.

To Be Continued…

....

What is the outcome of the destruction? What will their condition be? What are Evan’s plans? If you’re curious to find out, just wait for the next chapter.

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