Priest Yaber's face twitched slightly, and he asked again, "Captain, can't we wait until noon tomorrow when the sun is at its highest to hold the funeral? Performing a cremation at this time is really not a wise choice."
Zalanda's glance swept over the two bodies on the pyre, and the corner of her mouth twitched involuntarily. The black mist coiling around them was already very apparent, especially around the severed heads – almost condensing into the shape of heads – and she thought to herself, of course she knew that a cremation in the dead of night was not a wise choice, but the problem was that these two bodies needed to wait until then.
As it had been said before, in Felen, death is not the end but the beginning of another form, and the Undead is not just the stuff of legends but a reality just within reach.
If they were simply two murder victims, that would be one thing.
But if these two people had been killed by their own kin, especially by blood relatives, the chances of problems arising would significantly increase.
If the heads of these two bodies were to be taken, anyone with any common sense would know that the chances of a problem occurring would be one hundred percent.
Even if it meant charging at a battalion of Hobgoblins, Zalanda would do so without changing her expression, but the thought of facing two unidentified, highly resentful Undead had her heart beating like a drum, wanting to nip the problem in the bud as much as possible.
"Time waits for no one, Priest Yaber, get started!" Zalanda commanded decisively.
Trying to soothe the Priest's mind, Zalanda quickly added, "Don't worry, we are here, and if something really happens later, you can leave first without worrying about us."
Zalanda's attempt at reassurance backfired, causing Priest Yaber to stagger nearly to the point of tears. He was a servant of the guardian god Tom, mainly engaged in protection and healing, not a follower of the god of death. Purifying the dead was not his expertise.
But now, he had no choice but to step up to the plate as the only priest and sacrificer present.
When Priest Yaber began to recite the holy prayers, his previous timidity vanished, replaced only by solemnity. The surrounding Magic Network began to vibrate, and a soft light emanated from him. A huge grey left-hand gauntlet flickered in the light, the Holy Emblem of the true god Tom.
All those bathed in the Holy Light felt the darkness within them swept away, leaving them feeling warm all over.
The situation was different for the bodies on the pyre, however.
In the Holy Light, they were like boiling kettles, hissing as countless wisps of black smoke seeped out of them.
Hou! Hou! Hou!
Faint yet distinct roars of anger and piercing screams echoed in the ears of those present.
This unvented resentment seemed to connect to another world, drawing the attention of countless unseen watchers. Pair after pair of invisible eyes lit up in the surrounding darkness, too fearful of the pure Holy Light to come too close.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The two headless corpses quickly turned into fish out of water, thrashing about madly.
Zalanda and her group had clearly anticipated this and were fully prepared. Beneath their bodies were not scattered wood chips but entire logs, and thick ropes bound them together.
"Now, do it now, pour the Holy Water, pour the Holy Water," Priest Yaber shouted anxiously.
"Pour!" Zalanda ordered in response.
It was more of a dousing than pouring.
The Holy Water in front of them was not measured by the bottle but by the bucket, a total of five large buckets, with each person scooping frantically onto the two bodies with a wooden ladle.
Most of the Holy Water vaporized before it could even land on the bodies, as if thrown into hot oil.
The black aura on the two bodies was no longer merely a mist, but had turned into black flames. Their aura of anger and resentment soared to the heavens, especially that emanating from Rogan.
Undead, these dark creations, are largely related to the deceased's strength during life, especially their soul, but it's not absolute. Another factor is the emotion accumulated before death and the price paid for it. If one's soul is willing to seek revenge and compromises with the darkness, it can attain astonishing dark powers.
It was clear that Rogan was now the latter case. Once he fully materialized, it would be no simple Earthbound Spirit, Ghost, or Zombie—he could potentially transform into a Headless Knight, forever wandering in search of his own head and enemies, decapitating all living beings he encountered.
Zalanda, ruthless, hoisted an entire bucket of Holy Water and poured it over Rogan's nearly solidified black flame skull.
Sizzle! Sizzle! Sizzle!
In the face of sheer volume, the black flames were trivial, immediately submerged and extinguished.
Sizzle! Sizzle! Sizzle!
The other team leaders followed suit, picking up buckets and dumping the Holy Water on them.
The two bodies ceased all movement on the spot.
"Light the fire, quickly light it," Priest Yaber said, collapsing to the ground, completely drenched as if he had just been pulled out of a river.
Clang!
Zalanda drew the two-handed greatsword from her back and in the next second, fierce flames leapt up from it. With a mighty jump, she plunged the sword straight into Rogan's heart.
An even more intense fire rose, completely enveloping Rogan and igniting the pyre beneath him.
Howl!
An even more piercing scream came from deep within Rogan's body, sharp and shrill as though it could penetrate the soul. A dark shadow struggled to escape from Rogan's body.
Zalanda firmly gripped the hilt of her two-handed greatsword, half-kneeling in the midst of the flames, letting the fire lick her body.
Miraculously, she seemed to have an invisible armor protecting her from the flames, leaving her unscathed. Her fiery red hair whirled in the wind created by the flames, making her resemble a battle goddess descended from the heavens.
Those who kept their distance from the blistering heat looked at Zalanda with a respect that radiated from their hearts.
The merit of this deed was likely to be attributed to the two-handed greatsword in her hands.
This weapon, previously seized from the Hobgoblin Warlord, was a powerful magic weapon that could not only unleash fire attacks but also provide strong fire defense for the wielder.
That unfortunate Hobgoblin Warlord was blinded by Gaven before he could make use of this magic weapon's true potential. Now in the hands of Zalanda, it proved extremely useful.
No matter how fiercely the dark shadow within Rogan struggled, it could not break free, and little by little, it was consumed by the flames from the magic weapon and the pyre.
Due to the catalytic effect of the magic weapon held by Zalanda, the pyre burned much faster than one could imagine. In just a few minutes, it was reduced to ashes. The two bodies were completely turned to dust, with their bones crumbling at the slightest touch.
Zalanda, emerging from the pyre unweary, radiated a faint red glow from within. Especially her eyes, flickering like dancing flames, sent a wave of heat towards anyone approaching her. It was as if she had absorbed a vast amount of heat from the intense fire, seemingly gaining significant benefits from this special purification ritual.
With a hefty swing of her two-handed greatsword, Zalanda conjured a gust of wind that swept the pile of ash into a nearby grave and softly said, "Fill it in, pack it down."
"Yes," responded the team, quickly working their tools.
It wouldn't take long for the area to be flattened.
Zalanda, still aglow with red light, watched the direction Gaven had gone. She covered her chest, where the letter was, and whispered in a voice only she could hear, "You little bastard, this is all I can do for you. Don't die out there. I look forward to our next meeting. Whether you are tuned by an Angel or possessed by a Devil, I will expose your true face."