Building the Strongest Undead Empire from Scratch

"I accept," Xiao Mu said, his gaze firm as he looked at the angel god.

"You won't regret this. Come with me," the angel said, turning to leave.

"Could you restore my God's Path now?" Xiao Mu asked.

The angel paused, exchanging a glance with its companions above. They nodded. A Titan couldn't ascend to godhood anyway. A Sovereign level Titan posed no threat.

"Very well. Experience the power of the Angel race."

The angel unfurled its eight wings, radiating a gentle, healing holy light, a stark contrast to the destructive power it had wielded earlier.

The light flowed towards Xiao Mu. He knew it could restore his God's Path, but he also knew the insidious nature of angelic power, its ability to subtly influence the mind.

This was likely why they had agreed to heal him so readily.

As the angel focused on channeling the healing energy, a cold look flashed across Xiao Mu's face. This was his chance.

He lunged forward, his hand outstretched. Just as he was about to reach the angel, he froze, paralyzed.

He had failed. A wry smile touched his lips as he accepted his fate. His body began to petrify, turning into a stone statue. As the transformation completed, a surge of power erupted outwards.

The angel god, protected by its wings, easily deflected the attack.

The wave of earthen energy dissipated, leaving one of the angel's wings petrified. It severed the damaged wing and began to heal itself.

It recognized the Titan race's suicidal attack, surprised by its potency. Even a god had been injured.

"Fool," the angel muttered.

The statue crumbled, turning to dust.

The angel, unmoved by Xiao Mu's deception, felt only a flicker of regret at losing such a talented being.

"Let's go," it said to its companions. "To the Aether Isle."

The three angel gods vanished, streaking towards the far north.

...

Above the Endless Sea, the chaotic battle raged around the Aether Isle. Over fifty pseudo-gods and gods clashed, their power tearing at the very fabric of reality, shattering the edges of the converging continents.

All three fallen angel pseudo-gods were dead. The Demon race pseudo-gods had suffered heavy losses, now fighting a desperate rearguard action.

Embracing their inherent madness, the demons launched suicidal attacks, detonating their Godheads rather than falling to the angels' swords.

Their desperate gambit momentarily pushed back the numerically superior angels. The power of a detonating Godhead was difficult to avoid, and a single mistake could be fatal.

The undead Race Kings, despite being gods, were struggling against the angels. The disparity in faith power was becoming evident.

Arthur, John, and Azure, commanding the largest undead armies, held a slight advantage.

Garethor and Crane were evenly matched with their angel opponents.

Torin wasn't a skilled fighter, and Vulture, hampered by the low numbers of ghouls in the undead empire, along with Riven, were barely holding on.

Death Spirit had paired Xiao Hui and Arthas, the two strongest undead Race Kings, against the dragon pseudo-gods.

They could kill angel gods one-on-one, and angel gods were stronger than dragon pseudo-gods. Despite being outnumbered, neither Xiao Hui nor Arthas was in immediate danger.

The battle raged, a chaotic maelstrom of divine power, pseudo-gods and gods falling at any moment, their bodies lost to the Endless Sea.

But the true outcome of this war wouldn't be decided by this chaotic clash. Amidst the carnage, a serene figure moved towards the Aether Isle, unnoticed by even the gods.

The churning sea grew strangely calm, an invisible force settling over the battlefield.

The figure paused, looking down at the ocean, its expression grim. "He has awakened..."

The figure, humanoid in form, with wrinkled brown skin and golden eyes, radiated no divine power, appearing almost ordinary.

It stood motionless, watching the sea, waiting.

The surface of the water rippled. A seven-foot-tall figure, wielding a trident, with deep blue skin, emerged.

Poseidon, the Sea Race's true god.

He ignored the surrounding chaos, his gaze fixed on the distant Titan true god.

The two true gods locked eyes, the anticipated clash never materializing.

"You can't resist much longer," the Titan true god said, his voice emotionless.

Poseidon was the oldest of the gods, his long existence pushing him towards banishment.

"I can still ascend with you," Poseidon replied, a confident smile on his face. The Titan true god was a mere child compared to him, powerful but lacking experience.

The Titan true god remained silent. His hesitation stemmed partly from caution, but mostly from his unwillingness to ascend. His departure would weaken the Titan race significantly.

"Why not witness the dawn of a new era with me?" Poseidon suggested.

"Very well," the Titan true god agreed.

They rose into the sky, facing each other, but neither attacked.

Their objective was to contain each other, a silent agreement between two true gods.

The Titan true god was confident in his side's victory. Poseidon, though worried, could only hope to delay the inevitable.

But who would face the Angel race's god? Where were they?

A tremor shook the sea, sending massive waves crashing against the converging continents. The Tyrangar continent shook violently.

The gods turned their attention towards the source of the disturbance. Poseidon smiled, a hint of mockery in his voice as he looked at the Titan true god.

"It seems your reign has encountered a slight hiccup."

The Titan true god frowned. He knew what had happened. The Shadow race had betrayed them!

The Tyrangar continent's core of will had been destroyed!

On the Aether Isle, Alex felt the pressure lessen, her pace quickening.

The continents moved faster, the Aether Isle descending more rapidly.

Only the Mossvale and Nytheria continents lagged behind.

As the continents converged, the Titan true god grew anxious. Where were the angels?!

On the Mossvale battlefield, the tide had turned.

Drake, grievously wounded, his abdomen pierced, golden blood dripping into the Endless Sea, was out of the fight. He was lucky to have survived the last desperate attack.

Xiao Hui and Arthas were relatively unharmed, though their divine power was depleted.

Two of the dragon pseudo-gods were dead, two more were severely injured, leaving only the Venom Dragon pseudo-god capable of fighting.

But it dared not risk further losses. A chieftain's suicidal attack hadn't even managed to take down a single enemy.

It was now three against three, but effectively two against one.

"Retreat!" the Venom Dragon pseudo-god commanded, fleeing with its injured companions.

Xiao Hui and Arthas didn't pursue. Their priority was protecting Alex.

Xiao Hui's hand, still gripping the Sword of Judgment, trembled slightly. Her victory had been partly due to her death angel abilities, partly due to the divine gear.

Arthas was also battered, its armor cracked, a piece of its helmet missing, revealing its pale face.

"Drake, go back and rest. We'll handle this," Xiao Hui said.

Drake, knowing he was a liability, nodded and left.

Xiao Hui and Arthas looked up at the two figures clashing high above.

"True gods..."

"We have to get to the Aether Isle!" More concerned about Alex's safety than the other battlefields, they turned and flew towards the Aether Isle.

...

On the Tyrangar continent, the core of will had been destroyed with the Shadow race's help. With no Titan god to defend them, further resistance was futile.

The Sea Race general ordered a retreat, redirecting their forces towards the Nytheria continent to weaken the Angel race.

It looked at the motionless Death Spirit, confused. "Aren't the undead retreating?"

"The undead empire is destroyed. We can't retreat," Death Spirit replied. "Take your forces to Nytheria. There are still countless undead there. We'll handle the Titans."

The Sea Race general, unsure how to respond, silently commanded its forces to withdraw. The vast army retreated, vanishing into the sea.

"Good luck, Death Spirit," the general said before departing.

Death Spirit nodded, then split into thousands of clones, spreading across the battlefield, its dark domain expanding.

"All forces," it commanded, its voice filled with rage, "destroy the Titans!"

Fallen Sea Race, Titan, and Behemoth corpses rose as undead, swelling their ranks.

As long as there were bodies, the undead army would never die.

Even trapped on the Tyrangar continent, they would fight, eradicating the Titans.

As long as Alex lived, they hadn't lost.