ly forsaken their human form and lifestyle in pursuit of immortality, transforming into true monsters. These liches don't need to defecate, urinate, or eat; their only nourishment is human souls. As long as they can hunt more souls, they can live eternally. They are the parasites of this world, viewing themselves arrogantly as the apex predators of the food chain, with no mercy for any other life.

"It seems these necromancers are starting to get anxious," Brutols observed from the second floor, seeing everything happening below. Rubbing his forehead, he sighed. He had miscalculated, hoping for no casualties, but the overwhelming number of necromancer forces proved otherwise. Brutols had assumed the necromancers would think there were just three of them since his mercenaries were disguised as passing travelers and idle wanderers. However, the necromancers' inherent distrust meant they weren’t easily fooled.

“Send more zombies to get rid of them! If we can't even handle a few dozen humans, I dread what the lich lord will do to us.” One of the necromancer leaders angrily commanded, dissatisfied with the current situation. Typically, necromancer missions rarely failed unless they faced Paladins, their natural enemies. Necromancers were akin to undefeated terrorist groups in this world, with the only force capable of opposing them being the church's Paladin Order. However, the Paladins were too preoccupied with their rituals to patrol regularly.

This unbridled power allowed the necromancers to muster such large forces. Their numerous skeletons, ghosts, and newly arrived zombies were the result of countless human sacrifices. The identifying traits of tattered clothes on these zombies indicated they were once innocent villagers and farmers, including children who now, in their undead state, posed a significant threat. Treating these children as harmless could result in being savaged and dragged into a horde as prey.

“Hahaha, the humans' screams are delightful. Too bad we haven't found that target yet,” the necromancer leader, the lich, reveled in the suffering, hiding safely behind his undead army. He avoided the front lines due to his fragile body, unwilling to risk a stray arrow. Despite his immense magical power, his decadent lifestyle had dulled his reflexes, reducing his battlefield prowess. His joyous moment was cut short as the tavern mercenaries began their counterattack, silencing the human screams he so enjoyed.

"Why aren’t there any screams? You fools, do your job, or I’ll turn you into real corpses!" the lich raged, eager to end the battle and harvest more souls to replenish his energy. His insatiable hunger for power meant he could never be satisfied. Rumor had it that he even consumed the souls of his own men when pleased, a tale that ter

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