wafted, not the time for breakfast. The surviving werewolf rushed at Brutols, identified as the greatest threat.

Its sharp claws aimed for Brutols, who countered swiftly with a sword thrust, felling it. The situation escalated, with four more werewolves emerging. This threat demanded everyone’s help. The woman’s crossbow incapacitated one but left her defenseless. She needed time to reload, a one-shot weapon's drawback.

Red flames engulfed Brutols as he unleashed two formidable fire dragons. These fiery beings incinerated the werewolves efficiently. Their roasted aroma filled the air, but no one was inclined to sample the “meal.” Even the gluttonous fat man preferred not to risk poisoning. Dismissing the bodies, Brutols entered the left door, only to find an empty room.

However, the real shock was the inexplicable emergence of monstrous beings from this seemingly barren room. “I can see something in this room,” the fat man stammered. Brutols, intrigued, asked, “What do you see? I see nothing.”

Swallowing nervously, the fat man explained, “The room is filled with necrotic energy, typical of graveyards. Only those with certain sight can see these deathly auras, used by necromancers to summon the undead. If this area is saturated with such energy, our opponent is neither human nor an ordinary necromancer.”

“A powerful necromancer?” Brutols pondered, realizing he was up against a significant foe. Necromancers in his games and movies were seldom noble. While exceptions existed, this one seemed malevolent, likely intending to challenge Brutols' resolve.

Assessing the situation, he considered the range of cursed abilities necromancers might wield—lethal curses that could cause anything from violent illness to death. But Brutols was no ordinary human; his altered genes and elemental powers provided resilience to such threats.

Suddenly, the grim man began bleeding from his nose, then his eyes and ears, collapsing weakly. The fat man screamed, “This is a curse! A necromancer’s curse! We can’t escape it!”

The situation had indeed escalated dramatically, confronting them with a dire threat.

Chapter 5: The Conspiracy of the Undead (3)

Brutols was somewhat exasperated by the fat man's fear, but he understood. Unlike him, these people were mortal and vulnerable. The necromancer's curse was truly insidious. The grim strongman, despite his robust physique, had succumbed to it so miserably. Brutols checked for a pulse by placing his fingers near the man's nose and discovered he was dead. Shaking his head, he sighed, “Our opponent is no ordinary foe. I can’t guarantee your safety. You might be safer if you leave now, but there’s no telling if they’ll come after you later.”

In countless films, villains often capture the protagonist’s companions to leverage th

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