Building the Strongest Undead Empire from Scratch

In a strange forest on the Tyrangar continent, a perpetual mist clung to the ancient trees, impervious even to the sun's rays. No living creatures stirred within its depths, only fleeting shadows that played tricks on the eye.

At the heart of this vast, eerie forest stood a massive black castle.

Death Spirit, silent as a wraith, approached the castle.

As it reached the gate, several shadowy figures materialized, surrounding it.

The dilapidated castle doors creaked open, revealing a figure cloaked in darkness, its form humanoid but obscured by shadows.

"You must be the chieftain of the Shadow race," Death Spirit's ethereal voice echoed through the forest.

"Death Spirit, one of the Eight Kings of the undead race," the Shadow race chieftain replied, his voice smooth and polite. "Please, come in." Recognizing their chieftain's guest, the other Shadow race figures melted back into the shadows.

"Eleven Kings, now," Death Spirit corrected, following the chieftain into the castle.

The Shadow race was known for its stealth and assassination skills, a near-unstoppable force in their prime. It was a shame to see them reduced to this.

The Shadow race chieftain was only at Emperor level, albeit at its peak. He was far from reaching Sovereign level. Death Spirit, despite being the lowest-ranked of the undead Race Kings, was a third-stage Sovereign.

The undead race was a behemoth compared to the dwindling Shadow race.

Both races shared a similar history of decline, but the undead had risen again, while the Shadow race remained a minor faction.

"Death Spirit," the chieftain said, getting straight to the point, "we are both races of darkness. I wish to pledge the Shadow race's allegiance to your queen."

"Do you know what we are doing?" Death Spirit asked, unfazed. The Shadow race was too weak to be of much use. Even as enemies, they posed little threat.

"I have some understanding," the chieftain replied. "I am but a puppet chosen by the Titans. Much of our ancient knowledge is lost, but I've gleaned some information from the shadows of previous chieftains."

"Tell me," Death Spirit said, its patience inexhaustible. This was just a clone. Maintaining it at standard power had minimal impact on its other clones on the battlefield.

The chieftain, sensing an opportunity, shared what he knew. Unfortunately, it was all information Death Spirit already possessed.

The chieftain's motivation was simple: survival. He didn't want the Shadow race to be used as cannon fodder.

"The Shadow race is too weak," Death Spirit said bluntly. "We need divine level combatants, pseudo-gods or even true gods. You are merely an Emperor."

The chieftain wasn't offended. He knew his strength was insignificant in this war. The combined undead and Sea Race forces had thousands of Emperor level beings. They didn't need him.

"I..." he hesitated, unsure how to convince Death Spirit.

After a long silence, the black mist surrounding Death Spirit stirred. "If that's all, I'll take my leave. If you remain neutral in this war, the undead race will spare you."

It was a generous offer, but the chieftain wasn't fooled. Death Spirit only spoke for the undead race. What about the others?

If the world was reshaped after the war, and the Tyrangar continent fell under Sea Race control, the Shadow race, unable to leave, would be at their mercy.

He could fuse with all the Shadow race members, reaching Sovereign level, perhaps even pseudo-godhood.

But if he died, the entire Shadow race would perish.

"Wait!" the chieftain exclaimed. "I can summon the Tyrangar continent's core of will."

Death Spirit paused, surprised.

"How?"

"The Titans came from the Nytheria continent," the chieftain explained, sensing a renewed interest. "They are only half-rulers of this land. The other half belongs to the Shadow race. If the Titan true god leaves, we can forcibly summon the core of will."

A single race could only rule one continent, but that didn't conflict with the undead race's goal of destroying cores of will. After eliminating the dominant race, they could simply choose a minor faction to summon the core. The undead race had plenty of subjugated races to choose from.

"So, if you refuse to acknowledge the Titans' rule, the core of will will reappear."

It was similar to the situation with the undead race and the Skyreach Mountains, except the Eldoria continent's core was already destroyed.

Time was of the essence. Every destroyed core brought Alex closer to her goal.

"Leader, what do you think?" the chieftain asked cautiously.

"I accept your allegiance on behalf of my Queen," Death Spirit replied. Any opportunity to accelerate Alex's plan was too valuable to ignore.

The chieftain, overjoyed, immediately ordered his hidden agents to turn against the Titans and Behemoths.

...

Within the central Titan temple, the Titan true god sensed something was wrong. The Titan clan was no match for the combined forces of the undead and Sea Race. If this continued, they would be annihilated.

He wanted to intervene, but even expending all his divine power wouldn't be enough.

More importantly, the Angel race had forbidden him from acting. A true god's power was too valuable to risk, even if it meant sacrificing the entire Titan race.

He seethed with rage, but he was powerless.

"Deploy all Sovereigns! Fight to the death!"

Several transparent orbs rolled across the floor. The Titans below god level quickly picked them up and departed.

They had to sacrifice these Sovereign level Titans' potential, hoping their ascension to pseudo-godhood would buy them time.

But the Titan race didn't have many Godheads.

...

In the Nytheria Continent, the Angel headquarters faced a full-scale invasion, unlike the more measured assault on the Tyrangar continent. The undead, Sea Race, and Demon race had committed their main forces, unleashing their full might against the angels.

Demonic portals, swirling black vortexes, disgorged legions of demons and their minions, wreaking havoc across Nytheria. The Sea Race swarmed the coastlines, while the undead deployed their fortresses.

All three races had unleashed their subjugated races, a clear sign of their all-out commitment.

Their combined forces aimed to crush the Nytheria continent, slaughter the angels, and cripple their faith power.

Although the Angel race commanded vast faith power, much of it came from their civilian population, transformed angel beasts, and subjugated races. The true angel population, while not insignificant, was dwarfed by the sheer numbers of the undead and Sea Race.

Eliminating these sources of faith power would be a simple task.

The Angel race, unlike the Titans, seemed caught off guard, their response slow and disorganized.

Within minutes, the outer regions of Nytheria were devastated. Countless angel beasts and civilians perished, cities reduced to rubble.

The angels, however, were preoccupied with a higher priority: stopping the intruder on the Aether Isle. The World's Heart couldn't be compromised.

The continents continued to drift rapidly across the Endless Sea, converging towards the Aether Isle.

At the world's center, a magnificent angel divine kingdom stood tall, its gleaming walls and towering structures a testament to their power. Angels of all shapes and sizes soared through the sky above.

This divine kingdom occupied a quarter of the continent, a staggering size.

All angel civilians resided within its walls, providing a constant stream of faith power. The Holy Court's headquarters was also located here, its members acting as guardians, patrolling the divine kingdom and managing the civilian population.

Outside the divine kingdom lived the subjugated races and angel beasts, along with a small number of civilians.

Within a grand, golden hall, several powerful angel gods gathered.

At the center of the room, a golden pool displayed images of the three-pronged invasion. The angels watched impassively.

"Within the hour, the invaders will reach the divine kingdom," one angel stated.

"The divine kingdom cannot fall. Let the Holy Court handle them," another commanded.

"This undead lord is a greater threat than the last. The undead race should have been eradicated long ago," a third declared.

"The World's Heart is our foundation. Gather the Titan and dragon gods. We ride to the Aether Isle to vanquish these evils!"

The angel gods seemed unconcerned by the invasion, their voices devoid of emotion.

The images in the pool vanished. The angels transformed into streaks of light, disappearing from the hall.

The three invading races could only watch as the angels flew towards the Aether Isle, praying their forces could hold them back.

The divine kingdom, the true heart of the Angel race, was within their grasp. The time for their counterattack had come.

Thousands of angels poured out of the divine kingdom, their golden forms a stark contrast to the dark forces below. They wielded holy swords, their holy light bathing the land.

An angel unleashed a sword beam that exploded on the ground, obliterating countless undead and demons.

Holy light was incredibly effective against them.

Death angels and fallen angels retaliated, cutting down angels, only to be overwhelmed by sheer numbers.

The battle raged, a chaotic maelstrom of light and darkness. The dark races, in turn, held an advantage against the angels, capable of both inflicting and receiving devastating blows.

The angels controlled the skies, but Death Spirit had anticipated this. The undead forces attacking Nytheria were primarily airborne, while the ground forces focused on the Titans.

Unlike the Titans, the angels were both powerful and numerous. Even with the Demon race's assistance, the battle remained a bloody stalemate.

Death Spirit, overseeing the undead forces, watched the aerial combat, its shadowy form flickering with thought.

It couldn't transform angels, only Xiao Hui could, but she had a more important task.

For now, it could only convert the fallen angels into ordinary undead.

Suddenly, Death Spirit's shadowy form pulsed. It looked towards the angel divine kingdom. Two holy lights erupted into the sky.

Pseudo-gods!

A massive, unstoppable golden sword beam cleaved the battlefield in two, instantly obliterating nearly a million soldiers from the three invading races.

The second pseudo-god, clad in heavy silver armor, wielding a sword and shield, was from the Holy Court!

The two pseudo-gods plunged into the fray. The Demon race and undead race hadn't stationed any pseudo-gods here. No one had expected the Angel race to have such reserves.

Even if they deployed pseudo-gods now, the invading forces would suffer heavy losses before reinforcements arrived.

Holding back pseudo-gods with ordinary troops was suicide.

"Death Spirit!" the Sea Race commander exclaimed, finding Death Spirit amidst the chaos. "The Demon race will intercept the angels. We can't let them continue this slaughter. I'll contact Poseidon!"

The Sea Race could react the fastest.

But involving a true god would be costly.

"No," Death Spirit said firmly. "We can't risk a true god's intervention. I'll contact the other undead Kings for reinforcements!" Even the loss of their entire army was preferable to risking a true god's power.