Six dark spirits rose from the ground.
Wraiths.
Each carried the strength of a peak 5-star Spirit Warrior.
Meanwhile, Reinar finished his own ritual.
From the darkness stepped another terrifying figure.
It resembled the headless knight in shape, but it had no horse.
Instead, it possessed a skeletal body clad in platinum-grade armor, a massive broadsword gripped in its hand. Its helmet hid the skull entirely, but eerie lights burned within the eye sockets.
The Lich King had arrived.
The battlefield changed in a heartbeat when the new undead arrived.
Until that moment, the soldiers had been fighting skeleton warriors with clenched teeth and trembling hands, their fear barely restrained by discipline and the knowledge that desertion would destroy their families' futures. But when the wraiths floated out from the darkness and drifted across the battlefield like shadows ripped from the night itself, the fragile courage of many soldiers began to crumble.
