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Chapter 615 The Battle 'Temporarily' Drops Its Curtains

Before he could conclude his sentence, a disconcerting sound, a sharp *SLUSH*, echoed through the air. It was a noise so visceral that it instantly seized Duncan's attention. A surreal tableau unfolded before him as he glanced down, and the world seemed to blur into slow motion.

The sight that met Duncan's eyes was both shocking and confounding. A blade, ethereal and radiant with purple cosmic energy, had pierced through his chest, puncturing his heart with merciless precision.

 Time hung suspended as blood, deep crimson, began to seep from the corner of Duncan's lips. The sheer disbelief etched across his countenance told a tale of profound surprise and bewilderment.

Slowly turning around, Duncan's gaze met the unexpected assailant. To his astonishment, it was Clawed—the once-dead lover, now resurrected under the command of the undead commander. 

The shock in Duncan's eyes mirrored the profound complexity of emotions that surged within him. The reunion with the very entity he had lost, only to witness it become an instrument of betrayal, was a twist of fate that left Duncan grappling with the unexpected.

In that poignant moment, Duncan stood suspended between the realms of the living and the undead, his heart pierced not only by the blade of cosmic energy but also by the resurrection of a love that had been buried in the cold embrace of death.

The undead commander regarded Duncan with an air of detached gratitude as he crumpled to the ground, the cosmic blade having exacted its toll. Apathy painted the commander's features as he approached Duncan's fallen form, a silent acknowledgment of the shifting tides of power that now favored the undead.

In a moment of eerie stillness, the undead commander spoke, his voice echoing with a weight that transcended the physical realm. "I express my gratitude for guiding me thus far. However, the current has shifted, and power asserts its dominion. The time of the living is drawing to a close."

As the undead commander continued with an ominous declaration about the rise of the undead heralding the end of all living things—a grim bid to extinguish suffering from the world—Duncan, in his final moments, furrowed his brow with regret. "I should have killed you back then," he muttered, his voice a murmur beneath the symphony of impending doom.

The orb carrying Clawed's soul slipped from Duncan's grasp, descending to the earth like a melancholic requiem. In the fading twilight of Duncan's consciousness, memories and regrets danced before his mind's eye. 

Clawed's dying words echoed, a poignant reminder of the roads not taken and the happiness that might have been. As Duncan's vision succumbed to the encroaching darkness, his eyes closed, sealing his fate in the quiet embrace of eternal night.

In the final breaths of his existence, Duncan found himself engulfed in a bittersweet reverie, a cascade of alternate realities playing out before his mind's eye. 

Visions of a life intertwined with Clawed unfolded like delicate petals, each moment dripping with the honeyed hues of what could have been.

 He envisioned a path divergent from the blood-stained roads of power and ambition, a life where love triumphed over the allure of dominion.

As he lay on the cusp of eternal slumber, the tapestry of their shared existence painted vivid strokes across the canvas of his fading consciousness. Happy moments, tender embraces, and the warmth of companionship formed a poignant montage, an unfulfilled tapestry of a life unrealized. The laughter of shared joys and the solace of shared sorrows echoed in the recesses of his thoughts.

he could not help but flash back to the warmth that Clawed's embrace provided and how they stood on the then city of milk and Honey looking into the distance and dreaming of their future together.

With a whisper that seemed to traverse the boundaries between the living and the departed, Duncan's apology hung in the air. "I'm sorry, my love," he uttered, the words a fragile admission that lingered in the waning echoes of his fading essence. In that ephemeral moment between life and the eternal slumber that awaited him, Duncan found solace in the imagined embrace of a life denied, a love lost to the machinations of fate.

The Undead commander suddenly waved its hands over Duncan's corpse and purple essence from his finger tips went into the corpse. 

And so Duncan was reanimated once more as an undead. 

The Undead commander nodded at this. From being a mere human slave that was subject to fate as someone's midnight snack, he had now grown to become one of the most formidable existences on the planet. 

By now, Cuban was wrapping up his consumption of the dragon. It had all turned into a cocoon, a wriggling bloody cocoon adorned with bloody runes that pulsated with an holy radiance. 

The Undead commander approached it. However, on getting closer, a big mass of red lightning struck it from above. 

However, the undead primordial beast immediately used its tendrils to defend against the blast. 

Although the blast was defended against, the tendrils used also turned to dust on the spot. 

The Undead commander frowned at this. It was not so dumb that it did not understand the threat that the Baroness was giving. 

It suddenly leaped unto the body of the primordial beast. Together with its other undead minions, it turned and left the place. 

There is no doubt about it that the events of this night would shake the world. Just too many things had happen. 

Two Great demon ranked existences had fallen, new ones had been born, and there was still the fall of the city of milk and Honey all in the mix. 

However, the consequences of the event of this night would not not just end here, but also extend to the other earths and perhaps the underworld. 

After all, even the strongest of existences on the eighth earth is nothing but a chess piece for those mighty figures....