If an ordinary Skeleton Warrior is likened to cannon fodder, merely the weakest class of soldier, then the recently resurrected Behemoth is an entirely different special class.

"Kill them for me!"

The moment the Undead Mage resurrected two Behemoths, he ordered them to begin their assault.

Undead Creatures lack intelligence; even in such dangerous situations, they unwaveringly obey the commands of the Undead Mage and are nearly fearless on the battlefield!

Any battle with the Undead turns into a war of attrition.

The Golden Behemoth was the first to make a move; even in death, the power it possessed brought a sense of despair to the Undead before it.

A single slap.

The charge of the Death Knight didn’t falter for a second; merely pausing for an instant, it surged forward with its nightmare steed beneath it.

The Golden Behemoth’s palm swung down, a massive hand like a meteor falling from the sky, devoid of any fancy maneuvers, simply crashing down on the head of the Death Knight.

"Squish!"

A puddle of flesh.

Even the fearlessness of the Death Knight couldn’t compare to the physical might of the Golden Behemoth.

This scene was beyond ordinary understanding.

The Death Knight, lacking even a semblance of damage against the Golden Behemoth, was squashed into a slurry, losing any chance of retaliation.

The Banshee stood dazed, utterly bewildered that its powerful ally, the Death Knight, had been so easily smacked dead.

The silver-white Behemoth followed, utilizing no ornate techniques, simply slamming its palm into a Minotaur’s body. A creature known for its strength, its chest was flattened, with its innards spewing out of its mouth onto the ground.

A terrifying force!

In the darkness, someone seemed to approach swiftly, with more figures emerging behind.

Cold blades flashed.

Jackal-wolfmen.

They were born assassins.

With their extraordinary agility, when banding together, even stronger foes could fall to their fearsome speed, meeting a swift death.

During their battles, the Jackal-wolfmen required sacrifices, and the Timid Demons in front became offerings. Gruesome heads rolled even among comrades, yet, for the Jackal-wolfmen, there was no psychological burden.

"Roar!"

With a thunderous roar, the Golden Behemoth suddenly appeared before the assassins.

A massive scar adorned its forehead, with remnants of congealed brain matter on its cheeks. Though clearly dead, it was now revived in another form.

Undead Species.

The Undead Behemoth roared with excitement, its eyes glowing red, and worm-like veins protruded over its explosive muscles.

An enormous ten-meter-tall monster!

Although seemingly cumbersome, its charging speed was incredibly fast; in an instant, it was upon a Jackal-wolfman. Roaring fiercely, it swung its fist, the brutal power accompanied by a dull whistling; the Jackal-wolfman was instantly pulverized into pulp with a pitiful whimper.

"Excellent, continue the slaughter!"

The Undead Mage watched the scene unfold, a sinister smile appearing on his shriveled face. The Golden Behemoth charged again, as if no one could stop it. No Jackal-wolfman could withstand its attack, falling dead with a single blow.

Golden Behemoth.

Now the Undead Behemoth.

Terrifying in life, horrendous in death.

Though the Undead mind is dull, combined with brutal strength and an undying body, it became the most fearsome subordinate under the Undead Mage.

The Undead Mage performed a simple Undead Resurgence. Given time, it would create a monster that would make the entire Bone Plain tremble!

The so-called Assassin Legion, the Banshee’s painstaking accumulation over long years, was within moments reduced to a pulp by the Behemoth.

At this hour, the mixture of flesh and bone fragments created a powerful visual shock.

Without the leadership of the Death Knight, the Undead underneath grew violent, and due to the chaos, they slaughtered nearby living beings, targeting the Banshee’s forces.

The surrounding chaos intensified.

The two Behemoths charged forward unaffected, roaring furiously.

—Frenzy!

The Undead Mage unleashed another dreadful spell, igniting the ferocity within the Behemoths. As the massive creatures approached the Banshee’s army, they wasted no time, punching directly into the ranks.

With the accompanying shrieks and screams, more dark creatures perished in the battle, not only due to the Behemoths but also from trampling by their companions.

Heavy fists whistled through the air.

The Golden Behemoth seemed unsatisfied, raising a boulder from the ground and hurling it into the crowd.

A carnage of flesh and blood ensued!

The Golden Behemoth was truly a weapon of mass destruction on the battlefield!

Elsewhere.

At times like these, staying calm was crucial. The Undead Mage led the remaining troops to sweep over the Banshee’s allies.

The Death Knight and the Banshee, figures on the brink of seizing dominance over this land, now faced a monumental shift.

The former not only perished; its corpse now a mess of sludge, while its troops became demoralized without leadership, even attacking fellow allies.

The latter, witnessing the Behemoths’ frenzy, had complex emotions, realizing the battle’s outcome was settled.

As its forces drowned amidst allied troops, it missed the perfect opportunity.

"Whimper..."

A sharp, high-pitched wail had long scared the dark creatures; they began retreating as if hearing a melody from the heavens.

Retreat.

The Banshee gazed across the battlefield, its eyes revealing unwillingness but helplessness. It had lost, without the slightest chance of reversing its fate.

A solitary figure.

The Undead Mage observed the events unfold, not pursuing them deliberately, instead focusing on the Behemoths. None of the same class could challenge these two monsters.

A single Banshee meant little.

For the Undead Mage, this was an opportunity to lay claim to the entire Bone Plain.