In the middle to late section of the Death Route, a fierce battle was raging.

On one side were the allied adventurers of this sea region, gathered together, representing the most powerful fighting force in this area.

However, facing the endless stream of undead creatures, the adventurers gained no advantage.

It was not that they could not defeat these undead creatures, but rather that these creatures seemed to appear endlessly, as if inexhaustible. What was even more terrifying was that the longer the battle lasted, their own crew members were being converted into undead one by one, turning into enemies.

"If this continues, we will be wiped out! Retreat!"

Brent was not the commander of this battle, but as the fight went on, his prior experience in fighting the enemy allowed him to make consistently correct judgments. Consequently, as the battle continued, most adventurers were willing to follow Brent's command.

It was generally difficult for such a temporary alliance to form a unified command structure, but as the battle unfolded, they had no better options. Perhaps trusting Brent could still save their lives.

Not all adventurers were willing to sacrifice their lives for "justice." Numerous deserters had already appeared during these several days of continuous fighting.

"Send a signal for all warships to provide artillery support and hinder the enemy's pursuit."

"Do not advance too deeply. Always keep the team within the area where naval artillery can provide support. At the same time, advance cautiously, almost meter by meter, ensuring no ambushes are encountered. If the team is together, even if suddenly ambushed, there is a chance to counterattack and kill the enemy."

These were all suggestions made by Brent, and the captains who trusted Brent had successfully preserved their crews, which earned Brent the trust of even more people.

The warships patrolling the coast received the signal. As countless ship cannons flashed with colorful lights, unleashing a covering bombardment on the area in front of Brent, a hazy gray energy slowly rose from the ground. Not only did it block the energy shells in mid-air, but even more terrifyingly, this energy transformed into a giant dome, enclosing everyone within it.

The adventurer at the very back, preparing to return to the coast and board a ship, felt an immediate chill run through his body the moment he touched this layer of gray energy. His consciousness began to waver, and a primal bloodthirsty urge surged from the depths of his heart. After that, he knew nothing more...

In the eyes of others, this person suddenly transformed into a berserk undead, launching a frenzied attack on his surrounding companions. Because it happened so suddenly, many people did not even realize what was happening before they were killed by their former comrades.

"We still fell for it..."

The enemy had such a method, but had not used it until now. Brent had been cautious enough before. He had not even allowed all of his crew to land and had suggested that most adventurer teams land in batches, increasing the "forces" on the island as they advanced.

Clearly, the enemy's intention from the start was to lure them all onto the island and then trap them.

"You are quite good."

The nearly boundless undead army in front of them suddenly ceased its attack and parted, creating a path. A man dressed in opulent clothing walked out from the horde of undead.

"Beckford!"

Brent recognized this person as the target of their mission: Beckford, the madman who sought to turn everyone in this ocean into undead. He had not seen this person before and had worried that Beckford had already left.

Now it seemed Beckford was no longer willing to hide. His plan had been exposed, and there was no longer any need to conceal it.

What he needed to do now was to use his absolute strength to push his plan forward and eliminate everyone who stood in his way.

"Although your previous arrangements allowed the adventurers to preserve nearly a third of their strength, without strong captains like you leading them, do you think they can still stop me?"

Beckford's expression was very calm, not at all like a winner on the verge of a great victory. He was simply stating a fact calmly, his tone cold and devoid of emotion. Everyone who heard him speak felt a chill run through them. Could this guy still be called human?

One of the captains was particularly uncomfortable. To conceal this, he retorted to Beckford across from him, "Why are you doing all of this? What good does it do you to turn everyone into undead and destroy this world?"

Beckford glanced at him, and that emotionless gaze intensified the captain's chill.

"I have said it before, I am doing this to save the world." Although Beckford stood still, his undead subordinates were constantly moving, and undead were continuously emerging from the surrounding ground. Additionally, some crew members were being converted into undead, and the adventurers had become completely surrounded.

Brent had noticed this long ago, but he was helpless. He knew that the chill everyone felt was not just because Beckford was unsettling. Under this gray energy dome, everyone was slowly being invaded and permeated by death energy. Everyone was gradually turning into undead.

Beckford was stalling for time. He did not need to do anything. As long as he waited quietly for everyone here to become undead, he would naturally win.

What should they do?

Brent's first thought was surprisingly to ask Ethan, but Ethan was not here, which was incredibly awkward.

He did not speak, but another captain beside him could not accept Beckford's words and directly rebuked him.

"Save the world? You, a madman, dare to speak of saving the world? Is your method to kill everyone?"

Although the captains were not entirely clear about the situation with the gray dome, their instincts alerted them to danger. Not knowing where the danger lay made everyone impatient, and their tone was very sharp.

Beckford showed no sign of anger and continued to look at the man with his calm gaze.

"This world has limits... The resources of this world have limits... And humans... also have limits!"

It was not the first time Brent had heard Beckford's theory. Sometimes, he even felt that Beckford's claims had a certain logic to them.

Becoming undead would reduce the consumption of various resources to a minimum. The harsh environments of this sea region had less impact on the undead than on humans. At the same time, after becoming undead, both strength and endurance would be enhanced, no longer limited by the constraints of the human body.

Just look at these lowest-level undead around them. Only by relying on the best combat gear in this sea region could they suppress these monsters. Most soldiers without such good equipment could only rely on the cooperation of their comrades and better combat intelligence and experience to contend with the enemy.

Taking a deep breath, Brent felt his emotions were off. How could he agree with the enemy at a time like this?

Moreover, regarding the so-called human limit... he thought of Ethan again. That young man had clearly surpassed the human level, so the so-called limit simply did not exist.

"Having traversed the seas for many years, I did not expect to always rely on hope in a young man. It seems this is the extent of my ability."

Mocking himself inwardly, Brent straightened his body again and raised the greatsword in his hand.

He reaffirmed his resolve, cast aside Beckford's words, and loudly reminded the surrounding captains about the situation with the gray dome.

Everyone's faces turned grim upon hearing that they were slowly being invaded by death energy and that everyone would turn into undead if they could not escape quickly.

Several captains began to observe their crew members, finding that most of their faces had turned pale and dark, and a few people's eyes were already emitting evil and eerie light, just a hair's breadth away from becoming undead, only holding on with extraordinary mental willpower.

These captains' eyes all turned red. Among these crew members were comrades they had spent over a decade with, with deep bonds. Now, they had to watch them turn into monsters and then fight them. The mere thought was unbearable.

"Beckford, you must die!"

Some impulsive individuals had already charged out of the crowd, pouncing towards Beckford. Their actions were like the sounding of a charge, and all the adventurers began to rush towards the boundless undead.

This was the final battle. They would exhaust all their strength while they still retained their sanity and then die here.

Even if they could not escape the fate of becoming undead, they did not want to let Beckford off easily.

Trapped in a desperate situation, the adventurers, without any discussion, made the same decision.

Including Brent, their goal now was to weaken Beckford's "power" as much as possible, preserving hope for the ultimate victory for the surviving adventurers.

Even if that hope was slim.

For some reason, Brent suddenly felt that as long as Ethan was still around, the hope was not as small as they imagined.

Thinking of that young man's strength, he suddenly smiled. The greatsword in his hand seemed to become much lighter, swinging with more power. One sweep of the sword could eliminate a dozen undead around him.

But in Beckford's eyes, Brent was showing a ferocious and crazed smile, his eyes filled with evil energy light. The speed at which he swung his greatsword had long surpassed his previous limit. His body and spirit were being strengthened by the power of death, just one critical point away from becoming a powerful warrior under Beckford.

"You think you can weaken my power? No, you are strengthening my power."

Beckford still stood there, watching the brave captains, and finally, a hint of expression appeared on his face.

(To be continued.)

***

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