[Living Dead, Tyrant: Possesses extremely strong attack and defense. Its characteristic is slow movement speed, so if your agility is high enough, you can still deal with it quite easily.]
[PS: Note that once the Tyrant's health bar gets too low, it will try to summon its apostles. Each type of Tyrant can summon different apostles, at least one type, and up to more than three types.]
The moment that massive hand broke out of the mound of earth, Ethan saw the red exclamation mark.
'Looks like what's buried underground is the king of the zombies.'
Rumble!
As the Tyrant burst out of the ground, the entire surface began shaking more and more violently.
Naturally, Ethan wasn't going to act like in a game, waiting for the Boss to fully appear before attacking. He had always wanted to complain about game designers, 'Why can't you attack the moment you see it?'
'Why do you have to wait for the Boss to finish transforming, show off its power, spout some nonsense…'
'And only then start attacking?'
"Wait my ass. Of course you strike while it's weak and take its life."
Relying on his super strength and agility, Ethan leapt high into the air, rapidly condensing an enlarged Great Fireball in his palm.
Then he swung his hand and smashed it down toward the Tyrant's rotting green hand that was emerging from the ground.
That feeling… was like someone hoisting a massive multi-ton sphere into the air, then suddenly releasing the hook and letting it crash down.
BOOM!
A loud explosion burst on the Tyrant's hand.
But unbelievably, when the enlarged Great Fireball smashed onto that rotting green hand, it didn't cause even the slightest damage. Instead, it bounced high into the air and landed on the Tyrant's tombstone.
It smashed the tombstone into pieces.
"So hard!"
Ethan froze on the spot.
That stone monument, two to three meters tall, was carved from marble, yet it couldn't withstand a single strike from the enlarged Great Fireball.
'But this damn half-rotten hand, it can reflect fireballs?'
'This is fucking absurd!'
But the more it was like this, the less Ethan dared to relax. If even a level three Great Fireball couldn't harm the Tyrant.
Then he would have to find a way to upgrade the Great Fireball Technique to level four or five. Otherwise, his current attacks were like marbles hitting a brown bear, completely ineffective.
BOOM!
He released another enlarged Great Fireball.
But this time, Ethan didn't aim at the Tyrant. Instead, he blasted the roots of a large dead tree beside the Tyrant's grave, directly snapping it in half.
Then he let the tree crash down onto the Tyrant's grave.
Since he couldn't hurt it, then at the very least, he had to find a way to stop it from coming out.
It would be best if he could trap the Tyrant inside the grave until he upgraded the Great Fireball Technique to level four.
[Great Fireball Technique – Level 3: EXP 60/500]
[Spiritual Power: 3800/5000]
Ethan glanced at it.
At this point, he only had 3800 spiritual power left. Each level three Great Fireball cost 100 spiritual power, and only increased experience by 10.
In other words, he needed 4400 spiritual power to level up.
3800 spiritual power − 4400 required = −600 spiritual power
So, if he wanted to reach level four, he had to find a way to make up that 600-point deficit.
If he relied on natural recovery, which restored 10 spiritual power per minute, it would take at least an hour to fully recover 600.
'That damn old man!'
'If Nostradamus hadn't taken my tail ring, there were still several mana recovery scrolls inside.'
'Leveling up would've been a matter of minutes.'
But… thinking about that now was useless.
Ethan could only keep using the Great Fireball Technique desperately, dragging out the time while the Tyrant emerged.
———
"Damn it! Why is even the Tyrant coming out!"
Genie Sylas looked at the cracked grave, his face full of disbelief, "Old ghost, shouldn't you hurry up and save your disciple? This thing is an E-rank existence! One finger from the Tyrant could probably crush your disciple to death, right?"
"Wait a bit longer…"
Nostradamus waved his hand. Though his eyes were full of anxiety and worry.
He still wanted his disciple to beg him.
After all, up until now, he hadn't even enjoyed the feeling of being a master.
Back then, when his own master trained him, he had been thrown straight into the Dark Canyon.
Then his master just stood on the cliff, watching as he was chased by a group of giant-toothed dragons. Back then, Nostradamus had run while begging his master for a long time before his master finally floated down lightly from the cliff, then with a single palm. It really was just one palm.
Effortlessly, he unleashed a sky full of fireballs. Immediately, countless fireballs rained down behind him.
Almost every fireball precisely struck a giant-toothed dragon. Dozens of them were either killed outright, and those that survived didn't even dare to howl. They tucked their tails and fled.
In the end, the ground was littered with giant-toothed dragon corpses.
That scene... His master had been unbelievably cool in it.
So much so that Nostradamus remembered it to this day.
And in the hundreds of years since his master left, Nostradamus had always thought that if one day he could take on a disciple, he would definitely recreate that scene in front of them.
So… after finally finding a place suitable for showing off, what happened?
His disciple's performance was far better than his own back then.
Not only had he mastered the fireball technique to an incredible degree, but in less than half an hour, he had already developed two variations of the basic fireball technique.
Back then, just learning the fireball splitting technique alone had taken Nostradamus nearly a week.
Not to mention the more difficult fireball enlargement. That move had taken him almost a month to successfully perform, and even then, it was just barely usable.
But his disciple... When Nostradamus first brought him to this Land of the Living Dead, he couldn't even use the basic fireball.
And now, looking down at Ethan, Nostradamus saw him already using fireball enlargement skillfully.
'This…'
'Comparing people really does make one furious.'
"Hey! Old ghost!"
Sylas watched as the Tyrant below had already exposed its head, growing concerned, "The Tyrant is already coming out. You're really not going to save your disciple?"
"If he really can't hold on, he'll beg me," Nostradamus said, forcing calm, "I, the master, am not even worried. Why are you?"
"It was one thing when you made him deal with the living dead alone. He's just a magic apprentice, and you're making him fight a Tyrant? What kind of teaching is that?", Sylas couldn't stand it anymore.
But Nostradamus snorted coldly, "Are you his master, or am I his master? You're teaching me how to do things?"
Even though Nostradamus spoke like that, his gaze never left Ethan for even a moment.
Every time Ethan snapped a dead tree and made it crash onto the Tyrant, Nostradamus would break out in a cold sweat.
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