Reincarnated as the Weakest Magical Beast-Chapter 106: Amaras battle third stage (1)

Any moment now, Stage Three would begin. Mary’s fate would be decided in this final battle.

She raised her bow and loosed another shot into the sky. The green arrows burst apart midair, scattering into shimmering motes of light that rained down and refreshed the effects of [Hunter’s Swiftness] on Emilia and Aron.

Meanwhile—

Because Aron had already used Protection Shields of Light earlier to save Mary, the skill was still on cooldown. He couldn’t activate it again.

That spell had been invaluable. It had even saved Emilia’s life once.

Now, without it, the danger felt far more real.

"Miss Elise... I’m really sorry..." Aron murmured, lowering his head, his hands clenched tight.

"Hey, it’s fine," Emilia said softly, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"But don’t worry, Miss Elise," Aron said, straightening as he slammed a fist against his chest. His eyes burned with fierce resolve. "This time, I’ll be your shield! I might not be as strong as you, but if I have to, I’m willing to give my life to protect you!"

"Hey!" Emilia exclaimed, startled. "Don’t say it like that! Nobody is dying here!"

"Meow!"

Mimi chimed in at once, trotting over and placing a small paw on Aron’s boot, trying to comfort him as well.

"Haha... right!" Aron laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his head. "Miss Elise is so strong. We’ll beat the boss together surely!"

"Well, either way," Mary cut in, turning toward Emilia. Her grip tightened around her bow. "Thank you... truly, for agreeing to such an absurd request. Thanks to you, we finally have a ray of hope."

She bowed deeply.

And as she spoke, her voice trembled, thick with emotion, tears gathering at the corners of her eyes.

That only made Emilia feel a little embarrassed.

Suddenly—

"Urgh!" Emilia wobbled, nearly collapsing as a sharp pain tore through her chest. Her breath hitched, and she instinctively clutched at her heart.

"Miss Elise!" Mary cried, panic surging into her voice. "Are you okay?!"

Aron rushed forward at once, catching Emilia before she could fall. She gripped his arm, her weight sagging against him for a brief moment.

"Meow!" Mimi cried anxiously, scrambling closer, her fur standing on end.

But after a few tense seconds, Emilia steadied herself. She drew in a slow breath, then another, forcing the pain down.

"Ah—don’t worry, guys," she said, forcing a smile. "It’s just a side effect from the last fight. I spent too much mana, that’s all."

She eased herself to the ground and crossed her legs, closing her eyes as she settled into position.

"I’ve already taken potions. I’ll recover before the third phase starts."

"Phew..." Aron exhaled heavily, relief washing over his face.

"Then... we won’t disturb you," Mary said softly. "Please rest well, Miss Elise."

The two of them followed suit, drinking their potions before sitting down to meditate and recover their strength.

Fortunately, the interval between Phase Two and Phase Three was longer than before, granting them a narrow window to breathe.

Emilia soon slipped into deep meditation, her focus absolute. Mana trickled back into her body, slow but steady, guided by the potion’s effects.

However—

My god...

This is bad...

Mimi rested her paws on Emilia’s lap, worry clouding her eyes.

Through their bond, she understood her master’s condition far better than anyone else.

The truth was grim.

Emilia’s mana pool had been nearly drained dry. The fact that she had still been fighting earlier was nothing short of a miracle, fueled by sheer will alone.

Yes, the potion would help.

But at this rate...

She wouldn’t recover even twenty percent of her mana before facing Amaras.

That meant the next battle would leave no room for error. Not even one mistake.

A single misstep could spell the end for the entire party.

The realization sent a cold unease through Mimi’s chest.

Still, she believed.

She believed in her master.

Surely... we’ll pull off the impossible!

***

A few minutes later—

[Ding!]

[Stage 3 of 3: The Corpse King Begins!]

[Objective: Defeat the Corpse King, Amaras!]

RUMBLE!

The instant the notification rang out, heaven and earth shook as if the world itself had been struck by a colossal hammer. The ground quaked beneath their feet. Above, the sky churned, swallowed by a vast sea of black clouds threaded with crackling, ominous lightning. A violent wind tore across the battlefield, ripping dust and debris into a raging spiral.

"He’s here!" Aron shouted.

He leapt to his feet.

Emilia rose as well, drawing her sword in one smooth motion and settling into a battle stance. Mimi pressed close to her chest, fur standing on end.

Like her master, she was trembling.

And yet, through their bond, excitement surged.

This is it. The final boss.

I’m fired up!

The thought echoed between them as one.

Nearby, Mary summoned her Celestial Light Bow, Farael, once more. Its brilliance flared to life, shining like a lone star against the encroaching darkness.

"Alright, I’m heading to my position!" she called.

And then—

BOOOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

Five colossal structures crashed down from the sky.

Each was a towering monolith of black stone, over twenty meters tall, slamming into the earth in a wide formation! The impact sent shockwaves rolling outward, rattling bones and shaking the ground.

At the center, a massive crimson magic circle ignited, glowing like hellfire.

From within it, a throne rose.

A throne forged from bones and corpses.

Dark, grotesque, and unmistakably regal.

"Damn..." Mimi muttered inwardly.

The boss entrance is still so fucking epic!

She remembered this scene all too well. Every time she had fought Amaras back in the game, it had begun exactly like this—the five monoliths, the corpse throne, the crushing pressure that followed.

Back then, it had always been paired with blaring metal music.

Now, even without it, the atmosphere was suffocating.

The pressure rolling off the throne wrapped around her chest, making it hard to breathe.

And there he was.

Seated upon the floating throne was the Corpse King himself.

Amaras.

His massive body was clad in dark, jagged armor that looked as though it had been hammered from cursed metal. An iron helmet covered half his face, cracked and worn, while his exposed left eye burned with a pale white flame, cold and merciless.

Resting against his arm was a colossal sword, its blade chipped and stained, yet humming with deathly power.

He did not move.

He did not speak.

Yet his mere presence felt like death itself had taken a throne.