The Paladin in the Abyss

Chapter 794: Chapter 805 Dead-Eye Tyrant

Their companions had seen from afar an eye demon battling with demons in the Great Abyss during a previous adventure. The monster appeared as a massive floating meatball in the air, with its frontal part dominated by an eyeball that occupied a third of its face, and several octopus-like tentacles protruding from its body, each ending in a smaller eyeball.

Lancelot did not recognize the monster before him, but his intuition told him it must have some connection with the eye demon. Indeed, this was the case: in some very rare instances, an eye demon, while sleeping, would send its consciousness to a corner far madder than its waking state, fantasizing about how it could continue to exist after death. Due to its powerful magic, once the eye demon reached a conclusion in this dream, its body would begin to transform—its flesh would wither and peel away, leaving only a skeletal body with a large eye socket, and its energy-filled eyeballs would turn into flickering ghostly flames.

Thus, a Dead-Eye Tyrant was born.

Unlike the ‘summoned’ undead, the transformation of an eye demon into a Dead-Eye Tyrant was an active choice, similar to an Archmage opting to transform into a Lich to escape the shadow of death. This meant that they did not lose their pre-death consciousness or their magic abilities upon becoming undead creatures. If there were any differences, it was that having mastered the power of the undead made them far more dangerous and much harder to kill than before, for bones are much harder than flesh.

The only question was, why would such a powerful monster appear in this place?

Lancelot was curious about this, but the situation did not allow him further thought. The room’s exit was very narrow, and it was already too late to run away. The only option available was to fight.

Before the others had recovered from their shock, the human knight had already charged forward, swinging his longsword. The blade lit up with a dazzling Sword Aura, casting the whole room in a bluish-green light, and in the next instant, Frostslash heavily cleaved onto the massive skeletal monster, eliciting a shower of harsh sparks.

This was not a good sign. Sparks do not fly when a scythe cuts through wheat; they only appear when objects of similar hardness collide violently.

For most creatures, the skull is the hardest bone in the body, and for eye demons, even more so because it is the only bone they had. After transforming into a Dead-Eye Tyrant, their skulls became thicker and even harder. Lancelot felt as though he was chopping onto an iron anvil, and after the battle, he would definitely need to thank Barrend. If it had been an ordinary weapon, that hit might have broken the longsword completely, but Frostslash had only slightly deformed, a testament to the old dwarf’s exceptional craftsmanship.

However, although the strike only left a one-foot-long, half-inch-deep sword mark on the Dead-Eye Tyrant and fell far short of Lancelot’s expectations, it was still very painful for the monster. It let out a miserable scream, its entire body shaking violently like a bell struck by a hammer, while Lancelot, without a moment’s pause, swung his sword faster and faster, attacking with a frequency that surpassed human limits, not giving the creature any chance to counterattack.

It wasn’t just him, the rest of his companions all gathered around. The size of the monster meant everyone could attack from all angles at the same time, each person swinging their weapon, doing their best to inflict damage. However, if someone had been watching the fight, they would have noticed that apart from Bruto’s warhammer, most of the attacks from the others hardly caused any damage since the monster’s bones were extremely hard.

However, as a legendary creature, the Dead-Eye Tyrant would not be defeated so easily. Lancelot had slashed his sword more than a dozen times when, in the moment he slowed his swordplay to catch his breath, the enemy’s counterattack arrived. About fifteen feet behind him, a ghostly eyeball silently appeared and opened, emitting a deep blue beam.

The speed of the beam was too fast. By the time Lancelot’s Spirit Perception sensed the danger, the beam had already struck his back. Struck as if by lightning, a terrible paralysis spread through his muscles, instantaneously robbing him of control over his body.

Simultaneously, the Dead-Eye Tyrant violently turned its body to face Lancelot, shooting another thick red beam from its huge eye socket burning with peach-colored flames. The beam, solid-like, struck Lancelot and fiercely pushed the unresponsive Human Knight backwards, slamming him into the opposite wall of the room. The material of the wall suddenly became eerie, as if a viscous shadow had covered it, from which many greasy limbs grew, tightly binding Lancelot’s body.

“Big brother!” Bruto cried out, “Elves! Go help him!”

The Dead-Eye Tyrant clearly knew who posed the biggest threat to it. Ignoring the more fierce attacks of others, it continued to assault the Human Knight. The light spots floating around it lit up one after another, shooting multicolored rays at the tentacle-entwined Lancelot; some rays slowed him down, some made him fall asleep, and others even tried to turn him directly into a pile of dust—thank heavens that one beam didn’t work.

After confirming that it had temporarily neutralized the Human Knight’s threat, the monster then began to deal with the others. Bruto was about to swing his hammer again when his foot gave way, almost causing him to fall to the ground. The Dwarf instinctively looked down and discovered that his right foot was stepping on a large eyeball, slightly bigger than his foot.

It wasn’t just under his foot; the entire floor of the room was covered with eyeballs, and ghostly tentacles stretched out from them like imaginary reeds. Although they had no substance, their touch could cause a chill that seemed to emanate from the depths of the soul. Before his brain could process what he saw, a green beam hit Bruto, making the Dwarf feel as if his strength was suddenly draining away. The warhammer in his hand became extremely heavy, and he was no longer able to swing it as before.

The Dead-Eye Tyrant seemed to have lost the subsidiary eyes at the end of its tentacles, but in reality, the floating light spots around it were those very eyes, now even more elusive, bizarre, and unpredictable. One by one, his companions were hit by different eye beams—some were thrown into fear, some had their life drained, and others’ bodies began to slowly petrify. In front of the Dead-Eye Tyrant’s storm-like magical outburst, it seemed like everything was about to end.

However, there was still one among the companions who had been in the room since the battle began, yet the Dead-Eye Tyrant hadn’t realized his presence even now.