The all-out assault began, with Jacobs and the priest being the first to appear before the Undead Host, Harold and Nathan flanking them, and Henry taking the rear guard position. All five maintained a safe minimum distance of eight meters from the colossal monster.

The Rank 2 mages began casting spells to enhance the captains' strength, speed, and defensive capabilities, and to bestow upon them blessings of light. In the outer circle, the lower-ranking soldiers stood ready to use their purification items to support their comrades.

The priest cast his spell. First, a brilliant circle of light appeared above the captains' heads. He then conjured a second nimbus, this one enveloping the Undead Host's head directly.

As the monster faltered under the Nimbus's influence, the priest's entire formation immediately moved into position to deploy the ritual. They formed two concentric circles, the inner circle consisting of eight Rank 2 mages; the outer circle held sixteen Rank 1 mages, and the priest stood at the very center of the inner circle.

While the priest's team began the complex ritual, a volley of holy water arced through the air as the soldiers in the outer circle all threw their vials at once. The vials shattered, splashing holy water onto the Undead Host's decaying flesh, creating gruesome sizzling sounds, and patches of its skin smoked intensely. The Nimbus's effect further intensified the excruciating pain the Undead Host endured.

By this point, not only the faces on its head, but all the writhing faces on its two gigantic arms screamed in unison. The horrifying sound tore through the air, forcing those nearby to cover their ears against this terrible auditory torture.

The parts of its body damaged by the holy water took only a little over ten seconds to fully regenerate. The Undead Host continued to release countless shadowy spirits, trying to weaken the light of the Nimbus above its head.

But no one gave it the time to complete that task.

Jacobs was the first to lunge into attack. His massive greatsword swung horizontally, cleaving heavily into the monster's leg. A weighty "crack!" resounded as a deep gash opened in its leg. The holy light from the blow made the creature's flesh erupt in white smoke. With the light attribute infused in his attack, each of Jacobs' strikes ravaged a huge chunk of flesh from its body.

Immediately after, Harold leaped in, his light warhammer crashing down repeatedly like shattering stone, each strike carrying terrifying power and holy light. Nathan was not slow to follow; he charged forward, his spiked shield held before him, his other hand swinging the sharp spiked mace into the monster's vulnerable joints.

Henry moved as swiftly as a whirlwind, circling the monster, slashing his sharp sword at the weaknesses exposed between his comrades' attacks. He gave the monster no chance to recover from its wounds. Henry's attacks might not have been as powerful as Jacobs' and Harold's, but he always aimed precisely at the vulnerable, damaged spots, making those wounds deeper and more severe.

The Undead Host completely lost its composure. It frantically swung its arms, smashing into the ground, roaring in furious bellows that seemed to tear the air. But all five kept a safe distance, taking turns attacking and retreating, not giving it a single moment to catch its breath.

The Undead Host had not completely shaken off the Nimbus's influence. Having just recovered from the holy water attacks, it now had to endure the continuous onslaught from weapons blessed with holy light.

It roared again in agony, frantically swinging its massive fists at the relentless attackers at its feet. Its colossal legs were truly a shield of flesh today, constantly being tormented, crushed by attacks and then regenerating, only to be struck again before it could even take a step.

Although its intelligence was low, it could still feel the searing pain and the accumulating negative, agonizing emotions. The Zephyros soldiers' current actions were only increasing its madness.

The Nimbus circle above the Undead Host's head completely dissipated, all within less than thirty seconds. Free from some of the suppression, the monster tried to swing its arms to push back the four harassers attacking below, seizing the brief time to recover the wounds on its legs.

"Sizzle... sizzle... sizzle..." The monster's decaying flesh ignited and smoked again under a fresh volley of holy water. Giving it no time to recover or escape, the four captains immediately charged back in after their brief retreat.

The commanders of this battle understood clearly that the attack and encirclement from the beginning were not their true advantage. This Undead Host had been summoned imperfectly, and the summoner had died immediately afterward. Without a controller, it acted entirely on its most primal instincts, so its fighting style was also very simple.

It must also be said that from the beginning, it only wanted to retreat, only counterattacking when injured, which was why the Zephyros army had managed to preserve its numbers so well. If it had been controlled by an intelligent will, equipped with any kind of oversized weapon that fit its grasp, such as a mace, hammer, anchor, or even just a giant chain, things would have been very different.

At that point, each of its attacks would have had a wider range, combined with its current terrifying strength, possibly ensuring the Zephyros army would be scattered after just a few strikes.

Many fortunate factors had helped them maintain a favorable situation up to this point. But if they couldn't launch a decisive, killing blow, then all their efforts from the beginning would be in vain. Their aether and items were gradually depleting, while the Undead Host's regeneration speed seemed to show no signs of slowing down.

From the beginning, it was true that it hadn't inflicted any significant damage and seemed to be constantly enduring attacks from the Zephyros soldiers; but overall, only the Zephyros side was being worn down, while the monster was still enduring well and showed no clear signs of weakening.

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The arrival of the priest and his powerful holy light magic was the savior for Jacobs and everyone else. This power would make the battle much easier, minimizing casualties to the greatest extent. Now, the most important thing was for them to hold the monster until the ritual to create the magic circle was complete.

Each second dragged by, heavy and endless, every moment a brutal tug-of-war between life and death.

Against the Undead Host, the commanders fought with desperate synergy. Henry, a blur of silver, exploited openings with uncanny precision, his Mystic Sense guiding each icy thrust into regenerating flesh.

Ordinarily, the aether reserves within his body would have long been depleted after such continuous, intense combat. His endurance to this point was owed to the Sanctuary Seal. This precious reserve of aether was something he only dared to tap into in the most dire of circumstances.

Jacobs's roaring "Iron Cleave" tore a massive chunk from the monster's torso, severing its calf, while Harold, from above, brought his light-infused warhammer crashing down on its flailing arm, the impact echoed with explosive force. A blinding white flash illuminated the space as bone and flesh erupted into blackened fragments. Cracks spiderwebbed across its immense body.

Nathan, meanwhile, stood before Priest Bern, his massive shield imbued with powerful defensive enchantments held firmly in his hands. He stood as steadfast as a rampart. Putrid, dark chunks of flesh launched from the Undead Host's hand slammed against the shield repeatedly, sparking with eerie light - THWACK! THWACK! - but not a single piece could penetrate the solid defense to reach the focused priest chanting behind him.

"We need ten more seconds!" Priest Bern yelled.

"Hurry!" Nathan roared back, a trickle of bright red blood seeping from the corner of his lips, a testament to the strain and exhaustion.

Henry gritted his teeth, his eyes darting across the vivid display of his Mystic Sense. A dense, swirling mass of red energy pulsed deep within the Undead Host's abominable chest.

Something utterly unlike the normal undead he had faced, not chaotic aether or malevolent summoning energy. It was too concentrated, and strangely, it possessed a faint but persistent pulse.

Thump… Thump… Thump… Thump…

Each time the Undead Host was struck, weakening further, Henry could hear the bizarre pulse within it more clearly. After each critical hit from his comrades, the red aura surrounding the monster on his Mystic Sense dimmed slightly. But simultaneously, the deep red core within became clearer and stronger.

"Damn it," Henry muttered, his heart hammering in his chest. What is that? A chilling realization cut through the chaos. It's not fading. It's alive. But now there was no time to think or retreat. Henry couldn't tell everyone to stop; they had poured all their strength into this assault.

A bell chimed in the air, clear and holy, shattering the suffocating tension.

"The formation is complete!" Priest Bern shouted.

The entire mage team chanted in unison, powerful streams of aether converging, forming a terrifying suppressive force. A colossal circle of pure golden light erupted directly beneath the monster's feet - "Holy Pressure"

From above, a radiant pillar of light, like the wrath of a divine being, crashed down, engulfing the monster's entire massive body - an invisible holy pressure forced it to its knees, its joints cracking under the immense weight.

Its entire grotesque form began to emit white smoke, agonizing shrieks echoing. Charred skin sloughed off, chunks of putrid flesh slid from its body, and the screaming souls trapped within also dissolved in the holy light. A distorted face filled with agony appeared on its chest, then quickly melted into ash.

"NOW!!" Jacobs bellowed, his voice reverberating across the battlefield, urging his comrades to seize this golden opportunity.

The four captains transformed into brilliant streaks of light, hurtling straight into the holy radiance engulfing the monster.

Jacobs - attacking from the left, his fiery greatsword slicing across the monster's side, black blood and holy light erupting like a small explosion.

Harold - from high above, brought his light-enhanced warhammer crashing down upon the monster's head, a horrifying crack echoing as its skull split open like a cleaved melon.

Nathan - charged straight into the monster's spine, the spiked mace in his hand unleashing a series of explosive impacts, monstrous chunks of flesh flying off like shredded meat.

Henry - attacking head-on, thrust his sword repeatedly into the monster's chest, all his strikes aimed at the same point, each thrust going deeper, as he poured all his strength into destroying the bizarre, dense red mass.

Around them, the mages, archers, and lower-ranking warriors also poured in their remaining strength. Low-level spells imbued with determined will, arrows fletched with purification powder flew through the air, all aimed directly at the monster writhing in agony.

Everyone, from the seasoned commanders to the young recruits, had fought to their absolute limit. This was all they had, all they could do. This was the most intense and final assault.

CRASH! CRASH! CRASH! Terrifying collision sounds echoed one after another as their weapons slammed into the monster's body.

The monster finally collapsed, its two knees slamming heavily into the ground, then slowly…

RUMBLE!!!

The Undead Host crashed down like a toppled ancient tower, shaking the very earth. The ground cracked beneath its immense weight. The remaining spirits rose from its ravaged body, dissolving completely in the gentle holy wind.

A thunderous cheer erupted, tearing through the tense atmosphere that had just enveloped them. Some soldiers, unable to contain their emotions, burst into tears. Others pounded their shields against their chests, while some knelt on the ground, overwhelmed with the joy of victory.

For all the Zephyros soldiers present, they had won, a hard-fought and proud victory. Jacobs stood tall above the massive, motionless corpse, his greatsword still stained with black blood. The light shone down, creating a magnificent scene.

Harold was completely exhausted; he collapsed onto the ground, gasping for breath. Nathan could finally release his massive shield, his body trembling with exhaustion.

The priest, though relaxing his stance, had not yet ended the Holy Pressure spell; perhaps they still needed a little time.

Only one person did not celebrate, did not relax. At this moment, he was more tense and fearful than ever before.

Henry still stood silently alone, his silver sword still plunged deep into the monster's chest. His Mystic Sense still clearly displayed it - the bizarre red energy mass - still there, not dissipated at all.

In fact, it was still beating.

Thump… Thump… Thump… Thump…

A sudden chill ran down his spine, a spine-tingling sensation.

Henry sighed, trying to expand the scanning range of his Mystic Sense to two hundred meters, his current limit…

And the shock was real; killing intent, danger completely saturated these two hundred meters. Perhaps the dangerous area extended even further, but his Mystic Sense was currently insufficient to scan it all.

At that moment, it was as if death had brushed a finger against him. A cold, deathly atmosphere was enveloping this place, even though the monster had fallen.

Henry recognized this feeling, the helplessness, the terrifying presence. No... not again. The thought was a shard of ice in his mind. It's the same silence... the silence after the slaughter.

Perhaps it was already too late.

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