Foreign Land Reclamation By a Vegetable-growing Skeleton

Negris quietly approached Brooks and asked in a hushed tone, “Do you have some kind of grudge with him? Why do you seem relieved?”

A grudge? No, no.” Brooks quickly shook his head, “Impossible, I don’t even know him, I’m just relieved. Luckily, humans have short lives. Barely five hundred years old and they’re already close to the truth. If their lives were any longer, our Dragon clan would have no chance of survival.”

With that, he cast an admiring glance at Negris, “But the ones to be most envious of are still the undead. Eternal life, ah, the Life Species, no matter how strong you are, can’t escape the shackles of birth, aging, sickness, death. But even the weakest of the undead, mere skeletons, are immortal. It’s so enviable.”

For a moment, Brooks lost his enthusiasm to speak. The thought of dying of old age in a few millennia took away his mood.

Negris didn’t know how to comfort him. Should he tell him he wasn’t undead, but that he was immortal because he had achieved godhood? Wouldn’t that be even more disheartening?

Just as he was about to change the subject, suddenly a nauseating surge of energy erupted from where Ange was standing.

Negris turned his head and saw Ange holding the Druid’s Secret Law, engrossed in reading. That disturbing air was coming directly from him.

Negris remembered this energy; he would never forget it in his life. It was this same energy that had once beaten him like a dog and dragged him back to the Resting Camp – the energy of Steadfast Locke.

Why would Ange’s body emanate the energy of Steadfast Locke?

Just as he was about to ask, he saw the space in front of Ange distort. Ange raised his Hand of Locke, and in front of him, a figure slowly reflected back.

The purple-gold skeleton, the purple Soul Flame, the flickering flame of Mourning in his eyes, it was the figure that made him shudder – the Lord of Mourning, Steadfast Locke.

Steadfast Locke also raised his hand, meeting Ange’s. The space around them distorted, and Ange and Steadfast Locke seemed to merge, until only a single purple-gold skeleton uniquely remained standing in place.

Brooks gulped down some dragon spit, and managed to say, “Using physical objects as a medium, with spirit as a bridge, transforming all things, this is the Druid’s Ultimate Transformation Technique.”

“I… I know but, but why could he transform into Steadfast Locke?” Negris asked with a trembling voice.

“The stronger the spiritual power, the more powerful the being you can transform into. Maybe your Steadfast Locke’s spiritual power is quite weak. Are there any items of Steadfast Locke on Ange?” Brooks suggested.

It hadn’t met Locke Steadfast and the information it knew through its blood lineage was quite dry, so it had no sense of how powerful Steadfast Locke was.

Negris took in a sharp breath, thinking: Is Ange’s spiritual power as strong as Steadfast Locke’s? Oh my God, is that even possible?

Just then, Ange lifted his feet and slammed down hard onto the ground.

After this stomp, Ange seemed to have exhausted all his strength. With a bang, his figure twisted and he returned to his original form of an Ashbone Skeleton.

“Phew, not even ten seconds. That’s a relief.” Negris let out an uncertain sigh, part disappointment part relief. Transformation Technique could be sustained for ten seconds, that was reasonable.

If Ange could maintain the form of Locke Steadfast indefinitely, then he might have to start questioning whether the power Ange had demonstrated so far was just an act.

“That last step he took, was that King’s Arrival? Why was there no effect? Was it because he transformed back, so the ability was interrupted?”

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