'Thank you! 'said the Vincent.

Vincent had a hunch that something bad was about to happen, and the lich showed not a

hint of panic in the face of Mistress Batana's all-out attack, but rather a bit of pride. It seemed

as if it had been prepared for the situation, or had waited for such an attack.

Whatever the lich may have planned, it will never be Vincent on the same side. Although the

lich has taken down many dark elves and greatly weakened the power of the First Family, it is

still the most dangerous enemy in Vincent's eyes.

Without thinking, Vincent swung his wand of power and a bolt of lightning flew over the lich's

shoulder.

Startled by the sudden light, the lich realized that behind the panting mistress stood a human

mage. From the way he had just cast the spell, he was a skilled spellcaster, but he had no

common sense! Shooting lightning at a lich? Hadn't his teacher told him that from the

moment he became a lich, the power of lightning could no longer harm this skeletal body?

So the lich paid no attention to the lightning -- the spell was powerful, but ineffective.

He muttered in a low voice like a hammer upon every heart, using a language from a world

of darkness that, by the power of words alone, could darken the sky. It said in a loud voice:

"The deep listens to my call, and there the power will gather. Whatever it is, whatever it is, no

matter how strong, no matter how wide, use it for me!" The spur of its right hand began to

spin, like a bamboo shoot growing wildly after a rain, extending outward, becoming thicker,

longer, and more terrifying. He felt the growing strength of the whirlpool and smiled in

triumph.

When Vincent heard the incantation, he felt something strange. His pure gold left hand was

trembling. It was as if he too felt the power of the spell, as if he were called or threatened.

Vincent is losing control of his left hand. He feels that this object wants to be freed, to be

freed from some yoke.

At last the whirlpool above the Lich stopped spinning, and out of the center of the storm

came a black hand, the hand of a huge woman, gripping the lich's head from mid-air. The

hand appeared in this space with the force of a thunderbolt, with fire and lightning and

endless pressure. In the hand's direction, nothing dared stop the force of the torrent.

But it bumped into the lich's right hand.

The great power seemed to take no physical shape, as if it had suddenly lost its way and

rested in the grip of the five long bony fingers. It was as if an erupting volcano had suddenly

become still, and whether it was black smoke, lava or boulders that had been sent flying into

the air by the explosion, it had all stopped halfway. Time is frozen in that moment, and nothing

can move forward.

The lich laughed with delight as it slowly began to close its fingers. The black hand, which had

descended from the plane of the abyss, began to writhe painfully, slowly becoming weak and

shrinking. The whirlpool of the storm grew smaller and slower. The lich is drawing power from

this spell.

"The strongest defense in the world! Ha ha ha!" The lich's unbridled laughter echoed clearly

over the roar of Batana's master's spell. "I shall regain my strength! You reptiles will be crushed

to death by me one by one!"

Vincent was so shaken by the impact of the spell that he could hardly stand. And he was one

of the best. All the other dark elves had slumped to the ground. He struggled against this,

but the lich's words kept ringing in his ears.

'The strongest defence ever!

Valentine's old words pop back into his mind: "Your arm is the brainchild of the Great Arcane.

It's their crowning achievement. It's called the left hand. It's the strongest defense in the

world." The passage was like a bright light in the darkness, awakening a sleeping power.

Vincent could not help but recite. He was using the divine Word of Heaven, but in some of

the sentences there was a profanity of the abyss. It was as if he were hypnotized, slowly

speaking these two languages that he had never used at all, two forces that he should not

have been able to mobilize.

"From the depths of hell, from the sacred mountains of heaven, the clouds gather, the infinite

forces gather."

"Arcane power is here, all bow, absolute defense, left hand! Left arm!"

Vincent trembled violently. A puff of smoke appeared out of thin air at his feet. It rose upward,

causing the corners of the mage's robe to flutter. His body glowed every now and then, like

the sun burning before his eyes; And now it was dark, as if he were gazing into the depths of

an abyss without light. Vincent kept his head down, not looking at anything. But no one could

deny the power that now sprang up in him, the power of oppression.

The lich watched in amazement as the human mage, still standing, was able to use two

absolutely contradictory holy words at the same time, the most holy blessing and the most

vicious curse in one mouth. The sorcerer appeared to be groggy and unable to help himself,

but the pressure emanating from him was even greater than that of the female Dark Elf.

The pressure is more concentrated, and it condenses in only one point: the lich's body. The

lich was still trying to absorb the power of Batana's spell, holding on to her body without

flinching a step. As long as he can pull it off...

Vincent's lightning, at last in these two forces against the crease to get a little breathing

opportunity, it can finally release the force of the explosion.

The sudden change completely disrupted the lich's position. The crush of three forces toppled

the mighty undead creature to the ground. From its right hand came a brilliant burst of light,

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like a rainbow exploding, hurling its colors wildly into the air. This is not a beautiful sight, but

an extremely dangerous situation. Each color of the rainbow represents a different magic

effect, and each band of light carries with it deadly danger.

In the glare of this sudden appearance, all the dark elves -- those who could still move -- let

out screams of pain. They fell to the ground, covered their eyes, and wailed.

The rays of the rainbow flew to Vincent. But he hung his head as if he did not see the change

in his surroundings. Like a wild horse, the belt of light passed over the fallen dark fairy mistress

to the mage.

Vincent suddenly raised his left hand, and the smoke around his body was swept away by the

gale. The silver ball of light appeared in front of his arm. The characters on the ball whirled

rapidly, re-mixing the energy of the rainbow like an infinite absorbing void, no matter how

strong the force could escape. The colors of the rainbow changed back to plain light, and the

silver ball absorbed all of it.

Soon there was darkness and silence in the cave again. Vincent's body slumped and he fell

limp to the ground. It was as if he had lost all his support and had no strength to resist the

gravity of the earth. Shelley exclaimed and raced in around the corner to help the fallen mage

on the ground. She put her finger under Vincent's nose and was relieved to feel the mage's

faint but continuous breath.

Now there was nothing standing in the whole cave but her. The struggle had taken place in

a moment, but it seemed to have lasted a thousand years, and it had exhausted the hearts of

all at once.

No! One more person stood up.

Zeina was holding on to the wall, struggling to lift her heavy body from the ground. She wiped

the blood running from the corners of her mouth, then touched it toward her shoulder.

With the slightest press of her fingers, the dark Elf armor that had wrapped her tightly fell off

and clanged on the ground. Beneath her heavy armor, Zeena was wearing a chain mail. Even

after the initial battle with the lich, and the subsequent shock, the Dark Elf still managed to

avoid massive damage with these two layers of armor. She was black and blue now, the

bruises hidden under her black skin, and the pain was burning all over her, but she was still

strong enough to stand up.

Zeena looked at the cave, and though she did not understand what the explosion had been,

she saw the lich fly through it; The mother had fallen in the explosion; Even the human mage,

always full of wonder, had exhausted his strength. Now no one could stop him but the

ignorant half-blood sister! No one could stop herself from being the new mother!

The purge of the temple of the severed limbs has succeeded. The wicked lich, the center of

evil here, has been shattered and disappeared. The cost to the family has been great, but with

the spider goddess in their favor, reviving the fallen dark Elves is easy. The power of the family

will be regrouped! In the presence of the new matriarch, Zeena!

"There is only one thing left to do." Zena coughed up two bites of blood, dropped the broken

snake whip and pulled a dagger from her breastplate. The black dagger was carved in the

shape of a spider, its fangs the tip of which reflected only a grim, cold light.

Zeena walked slowly toward her fallen mother, Batana motionless with her eyes closed, as if

she had fallen into an endless sleep. The palms of Zeena's hands oozed sweat, her breathing

became rapid, and the wounds inside her body throbbed with pain. The throne she had

dreamed of was now in front of her, and if she thrust the dagger into Batana's chest, the

powerful poison inside would kill the old dark elf woman at once, even if she were the most

powerful mistress in the city of Prudence!

Just send the dagger gently...

Zena felt dizzy and barely managed to stabilize herself. "I must have lost a lot of blood. I can't

get excited. I can't move my muscles too hard." Zena thought to herself, stabilizing herself

with this psychic power: "Drive this dagger into Batana's heart, and then you can heal yourself.

Then pray to the spider goddess, and take over the title of Matriarch. This is the critical period.

No more..."

Shelley stood before her, holding the thin black sword in her hand, and looked at her sister

with pity.

"Get out of here! You bastard! ' Zeena shouted, and tried to spit out the blood again, but this

time she held back and swallowed the blood that had risen to her mouth. She gasped violently,

adjusting her heart rate and breathing.

'Bastard! You want to stand in my way too? Is this bitch giving you something, or do you think

you can be a mistress?" Shelley straightened up, her body assuming the pomp of a former

high priestess, as if a battle wound she had just received were fake. She said, "Shelley, Shelley,

do you think you can stop me? Who are you to challenge me?"

"I don't like my mother, but I'd rather keep things the way they are than you." Shelley drew a

circle through the air with her thin sword. "You may as well be your Lord sacrifice. It's not time

for you to be a mother."

"My affairs, my path, my destiny are not in your hands!" Zeena raised the dagger, her other

hand glinting with magic. "You think that's all I'm capable of? Do you think you can cut my

arm off like you did last time?"

Zeena laughed: "Bastard! When you fall, it's the old woman. Of course, I will take good care

of your pet. He will be my best plaything. Ha ha."

The two men are locked in a stalemate, Shelley looking for her sister's weakness, while Zeena

gathers her strength. Neither of them dares to make a mistake. Any negligence can be fatal.

"That's a good idea!" Batana's voice creeps out slowly.