Building the Strongest Undead Empire from Scratch

Just as Death Spirit was about to summon the other Race Kings, a blinding purple lightning bolt shot into the sky, drawing the attention of everyone on the battlefield.

A holy light followed close behind, both striking the angel pseudo-gods.

Thunder and the Holy Church pseudo-god had arrived!

"The humans!" the Sea Race general exclaimed, relief washing over him, though his worry didn't completely disappear. The Angel race might have other hidden forces.

"Thunder is injured..." Death Spirit murmured, observing the two human pseudo-gods. Thunder had been fighting non-stop, his injuries accumulating. He couldn't have fully recovered in just a few days.

But Death Spirit saw a steely resolve in Thunder's eyes, mirrored in the Holy Church pseudo-god's gaze.

Perhaps, knowing the Angel race better than any other, they had anticipated this and positioned themselves on the Nytheria continent.

In the brief moments since the angel pseudo-gods had arrived, the allied forces had suffered heavy losses. The angels weren't just targeting low-level troops. Sovereigns and Emperors were just as vulnerable.

And with their knowledge of the undead, they were ensuring complete soul obliteration, preventing resurrection.

Thunder and the Holy Church pseudo-god's timely arrival had stopped the carnage.

The battle raged on, but now, four pseudo-gods clashed high above, their power shaking the very foundations of the nearby angel divine kingdom.

"Attack the divine kingdom!" Death Spirit commanded, unleashing its domain. Fallen angels rose as undead, rejoining the fight.

The Demon race and Sea Race echoed the command. Sovereign and Emperor level beings surged forward, engaging the angel Sovereigns.

The tide of battle began to turn.

The allied forces gained the upper hand, but the Angel race's true strength remained unknown.

The divine kingdom, the source of the angels' faith power, had to be destroyed.

But the Angel race was more formidable than they had anticipated. They still had a true god.

He wouldn't stand idly by and watch his divine kingdom fall.

Another golden light erupted from the divine kingdom. Another angel pseudo-god emerged.

Thunder, already struggling against a single angel pseudo-god, coughed up blood, his face grim.

Since the human race's defeat, his faith power had diminished, weakening him considerably. His injuries hadn't fully healed. He could only barely hold his own.

Now, facing two opponents, he knew this wasn't the Angel race's full might, but he had no choice.

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He exchanged a look with the Holy Church pseudo-god. They began to retreat slowly, drawing the angel pseudo-gods closer.

The angels didn't suspect a trap. Three against two. It was the logical course of action.

Thunder and the Holy Church pseudo-god continued to retreat, struggling to hold back the three angel pseudo-gods.

Their only options were to flee or hope for reinforcements.

But they had another plan.

Golden runes appeared on the Holy Church pseudo-god's silver armor, his weapon, and his shield. The runes blazed, and the armor melted away, revealing his gray robes and muscular physique.

The angel pseudo-gods paused, confused.

The molten armor transformed into a golden barrier, trapping all three angels.

The Holy Church pseudo-god stood outside the barrier, while Thunder remained inside.

"No!" one of the angels cried, charging towards the seemingly weakened Thunder.

Thunder smirked, ignoring the approaching angel. He looked down at Death Spirit. "Tell Alex," he said, his voice filled with resolve, "this is humanity's resolve!"

A golden holy sword pierced Thunder's chest. The angel tried to finish him, but Thunder's grip on the sword held firm.

Thunder's body blazed with purple light, so bright it was almost white. The golden barrier became a miniature sun, radiating intense heat.

Boom!

A deafening explosion rocked the continent, momentarily halting its movement across the Endless Sea.

The golden barrier contained the blast, but the Holy Church pseudo-god, his face pale with strain, opened a small gap in the barrier, unleashing a concentrated blast of energy towards the angel divine kingdom.

The blast struck the towering divine kingdom wall, cracking it and sending a section crumbling to the ground, revealing the city within.

Three orbs fell to the ground. Death Spirit collected them, the Godheads of the three fallen pseudo-gods. He immediately dispatched a clone to return them to the undead Imperial Capital. They would be reborn as undead pseudo-gods.

A stunned silence fell over the battlefield.

Thunder had sacrificed himself, detonating his Godhead, taking three angel pseudo-gods with him.

Such a tactic was usually ineffective against opponents of equal level, but trapped within the barrier, the angels had nowhere to escape.

It was clear that Thunder and the Holy Church pseudo-god had planned this from the start.

Even now, the Angel race's true god hadn't intervened, seemingly unconcerned by the loss of three pseudo-gods.

This was highly unusual. His power wasn't significantly restricted by the World's Heart. He should have been able to intervene. Had he already left the divine kingdom?

Looking at the breach in the divine kingdom's wall, Death Spirit ordered the assault.

"For the Queen!"

He turned to the weakened Holy Church pseudo-god, his armor gone, his body battered.

"On behalf of my Queen, thank you for your sacrifice," Death Spirit said.

"It was my duty," the human pseudo-god replied, his voice weak but firm. He was out of the fight, but he remained, standing alongside the allied forces.

...

On the Nytheria continent, fifteen shadowy figures hovered above the churning sea. Each demon radiated immense power.

These were the Demon race's remaining pseudo-gods, only slightly outnumbering the undead race's current pseudo-god forces.

Facing them were fifteen angels, their holy light piercing the gloom.

Thirty pseudo-gods, and even a few gods, clashed on this precarious battlefield. Several angel pseudo-gods had already departed for the Aether Isle.

Instead of exploiting their numerical advantage, the angels had chosen a one-to-one confrontation, perhaps a display of confidence, or perhaps they simply didn't consider the Demon race a serious threat.

The demons held back fifteen pseudo-gods, but several more had already slipped past, heading for the Aether Isle. The demons could only hope the undead reinforcements would arrive in time.

The Angel race's objective was clear: eliminate Alex on the Aether Isle. The World's Heart couldn't be compromised.

Holy light and dark energy collided, unleashing a shockwave that roiled the sea and darkened the sky.

Thirty pseudo-gods and gods clashed in a chaotic maelstrom, a battle of epic proportions, the likes of which hadn't been seen in millennia.

And this still wasn't the Angel race's full might...

Four Race Kings had been stationed here, but with the sudden escalation, Death Spirit had recalled the forces defending the Arcadia continent.

Eight Race Kings stood ready: Garethor, Torin, Vulture, Arthur, John, Riven, Azure, and Crane.

They varied in size and shape, but their resolve was unwavering. This battle would be costly, but for their Queen and the undead empire, they would stand their ground.

Eight angel gods approached, their numbers matching the Race Kings'. A collective sigh of relief swept through the undead ranks. They could hold them.

They were all gods, and the Race Kings were confident their faith power surpassed the angels'.

The battle was about to begin. These Race Kings were Alex's last line of defense.

"For the Queen!" Arthur roared, charging forward, his massive bone wings propelling him towards the enemy.

Each Race King embodied a different aspect of the undead race's power. Except for Crane, they weren't purely beings of darkness. Against the angels, there was no inherent advantage or disadvantage, a welcome change from the usual dynamic.

This was their first battle as gods, facing gods of other races.

Their only hope of victory lay in the undead army's ability to decimate the Angel race's civilian population and weaken their faith.

Divine power surged, plunging the sky into darkness, while the angels' holy light blazed, attempting to purify the encroaching shadows.

...

On the Mossvale continent, the dragon race was also mobilizing. This war would reshape the world. Even if they hadn't chosen a side, they couldn't remain neutral.

In times of chaos, no race could truly isolate itself.

Within the dragon race's territory, where only five pseudo-gods remained, the situation seemed deceptively calm. But in reality, they faced the greatest danger.

The allied forces had no more pseudo-gods or gods to spare!

Only Xiao Hui, Drake, and Arthas stood guard, outnumbered and outmatched.

Their chances of survival were slim.

"Drake," Xiao Hui said, her voice grim as she looked at Drake, "you're no longer bound by contract to Alex. You can leave now."

She doubted Drake would fight to the death. It was a suicide mission.

Rather than face betrayal later, she chose to address the issue directly, disregarding Drake's pride. He was the newest member, and therefore, the least trusted.

"Xiao Hui, are you kidding me? Who do you think I am?" Drake retorted, offended. He couldn't believe she would doubt his loyalty at a time like this.

It was true. Without the contract, he was free to leave. With his power, he could find a place in any faction.

But he had never considered it.

"So what if I die? I'm a pseudo-god! I'm not afraid of death!"

Drake's eyes blazed with golden light as he transformed into a massive, earth-colored dragon, his divine power surging.

"Instead of worrying about me, figure out how to get Xiao Mu to god. That would actually help Alex!" Drake roared, his voice echoing across the land.

"Fine. Let's kill these dragons!" Xiao Hui declared, drawing the Sword of Judgment. Four pairs of black wings sprouted from her back, her aura shifting, becoming both sinister and divine.

She wielded the true Sword of Judgment, meaning she had retrieved it from the undead empire's Resurrection Pool. This maximized her combat power, but it also meant she couldn't be resurrected.

But she felt no fear. What was the point of surviving if everyone else perished?

Better to fight to the death than cower in fear.

"Tell Ice Cream to hurry," Arthas said to the Death Spirit clone responsible for communication. "Once the dragon pseudo-gods arrive, we wipe out the Mossvale continent and claim the core of will."

Their plan was about to unfold.