Chapter 284

That very morning, Ashenmore and Netheridge went to war.

The battlefield was a cacophony of chaos. Spells lit the gray skies with flashes of brilliant colour, the arcane energy sizzled and hissed, sending shockwaves rippling through the snow-covered ground. The clash of steel and bone was deafening as swords met claws and shields, splinters flying as they struggled to withstand the monstrous strength of one another.

The once-pristine snow was now a canvas of war, painted in streaks of vivid crimson and dark ichor. The air was thick with the metallic tang of blood, the acrid stench of burning flesh, and the bitter chill of winter.

Rose's army fought desperately, their voices ringing out as they unleashed torrents of fire, ice, and lightning. Opposite them, the undead surged forward relentlessly, like a tide of rotting flesh.

Her forces pushed hard, their coordinated spells destroying a few undead soldiers but as soon as the undead fell, they began to regen