After having failed to achieve the title of best healer of the Kingdom, to become the Headmaster of the White Griffon, after having failed as a father and a husband, Zogar Vastor had finally found his first place.
Someone he could make a difference for, someone who didn’t treat him like a bag of fat and gold. By threatening Zinya, the undead threatened the only success he had left and the only person who didn’t call him because they needed something or because Manohar and Marth weren’t available.
The undead unleashed one tier five spell after another, exploiting Vastor’s inability to use movement spells due to the arrays and to dodge because of the innocents that he was trying to protect.
Much to everyone’s surprise, not only did he survive, but he also returned each one of the spells in kind. The other assault teams had to send reinforcements due to Vastor’s death count quickly coming close to the three digits.
Vastor’s only remaining eye scoured the battlefield while he kept chanting with the aid of his armor to move his broken arms.
’Please, don’t turn away, Zinya. My life might be nothing but a streak of unremarkable failures, but I want someone to at least witness how I died. After all the terrible things I’ve done in my life, for both my country and for myself, give me the opportunity to be remembered for the one thing I did right.’
Vastor thought, regretting that the use of magic kept him from entrusting his last message to her.
"What the heck is that guy? He’s taken enough spells to level a mountain, yet he’s still standing and our marks are still alive." The fourth in command said to the new leader.
"You idiot, that’s no man. That’s a mage laying his life on the line. Keep underestimating him and you’ll die like the others. Don’t assume that just because he’s on his last leg a mage is easy prey. Give it your all!" The leader said.
She shapeshifted into her Grendel form, wielding a blade bigger than a man and raising its hilt at her eye level in a sign of salute from a warrior to another.
Vastor trembling hand raised his own short sword, returning the salute right before sucker-punching the Grendel with his golden wand and turning her into dust.
’How dares she think about honor after they used an army to attack a family of civilians?’ Vastor gritted his teeth and prepared for a new assault.
A Raging Sun exploded right under his feet, turning the rubble into molten stone and charred wood. The pungent smell and the heat hindered the undead’s heightened senses, forcing them to check for survivors in person.
"Good gods, what is this thing?" An undead said while witnessing a silvery blanket shrink back into a suit of armor and revealing that most of the people it had protected were still alive.
"Whatever it is, it’s mine." The new leader couldn’t hear Vastor breathe and there was blood coming out of his ears, mouth, and his empty eye socket. "The guy is dead and his armor is ready to be imprinted."
The undead leader ignored the sobbing of the woman and her children, focusing on the priceless artifact at hand.
’Don’t worry, pal, I will not repeat your same mistakes. If you didn’t waste your armor to protect that sow, you would still be-’ Vastor’s hand moved like a snake, grabbing the undead’s leg and unleashing a tier three darkness spell.
Something so weak and slow would have never killed an elder undead if not for being released on contact and manipulated with surgical precision. A diagnostic spell allowed Vastor to find the Ghoul’s heart and focus the spell’s full force on it.
"He’s still alive!" The warning of the surviving undead made his allies unleash the spells they had at the ready on the fallen Professor until they had no more left.
Everyone was so focused on the apparently immortal man that the encirclement broke, allowing the magical beasts to run away towards the woods. Not having to protect others anymore, the armor wrapped around Vastor’s body, repelling the spells as if they were just spring rain.
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