Luke made quick time to Norwich's lieutenant. His feet were pounding against the ground as he ran as fast as he could. The faster they did this, the weaker the general would be. Unlike the other monsters that were summoned, the general could grow stronger. Luke's worst fear was taking too long and losing to the general. He shuttered at the thought; no, he couldn't fail now. He may be alone during this fight, but that was the price for speed. It would take the others a couple of hours longer to reach it, and Luke was confident that he could kill it by then. That last lieutenant was a hard counter for most people as the best way to kill it was in one hit or a large number of simultaneous hits. While Luke could deal a large amount of damage at once, it wasn't his specialization. Area of effects and crowd control where lights strong points.

Luke stopped as he came into a clearing, making skid marks on the ground. Luke locked on to the lieutenant as soon as he saw it. The lieutenant was over two meters tall but was extremely thin, too thin for a truly living being. It was undead. Luke smiled; this was the best matching he could ask for; light was highly effective at tearing through a hoard of undead. Not by any extra damage but constant AOEs and crowd control left the individually weak undead useless. There was one problem with this though, Luke couldn't sense or see any undead. Even the lieutenant didn't feel like an undead. As Luke puzzled over this, the lieutenant raised its arms to Luke, its robe fluttering in the wind. Then it spoke.

"Ah, a great hero descends to deliver divine punishment to me. And what's this a hero of light, no less. Ha, I remember how the church of light struggled to survive on my homeworld. It was a great victory for all Necromancers when we ripped down that last cathedral. Ah, the good old days, how I miss them. Tsk tsk, while I may have lost my home, I can make a new one here. Especially with the corpse of a hero." Its arms descended, and the ground exploded, dirt filling the air. Dozens of undead crawled out of the ground as Luke smirked and cast his first spell, a domain of starlight infused with the Major Arcana he got when his light magic passed level 75, The Emperor. Everyone stopped moving as something started to apply a crushing force to each undead. A large spectral version of Luke made of starlight appeared behind him; it passed its judgment with one glance and a smirk. Death was the only future for these abominations. A white fire appeared on each undead, and the dead wailed in pain. It was a particular type of fire that damaged the soul, not the body. The only undead not screaming or even on fire was the lieutenant. Luke's spell only worked on being much weaker than him and was perfect for wiping out these undead. Luke smoothly drew his sword; as he pointed it toward the undead, it caught the light; this was not an accident. Luke cast his second spell, this time infused with Strength. A much larger sword made of light superimposed on to his. Luke swung his blade diagonally at the undead lieutenant, and a wave of razer sharp light flashed towards it. The lieutenant quickly cast a shield spell; a dome of purple light covered him in a flash. The sword slash impacted harmlessly and dissipated into a puff of light.

The lieutenant thought it had the upper hand before it saw that Luke did not stop at the first strike, and a dozen more sword beams were heading its way. Undeterred, it settled in, pouring more mana into the dome shield. Slash after slash slammed into the shield, but none could crack it. The lieutenant chuckled; its mana was endless compared to this fledgling hero. When the slashes stopped, the lieutenant looked towards where the hero was expecting to see a mana-deprived weakling; what he did see instead was a slight smirk and light covering the hero's feet. A movement spell? Was he going to run away? Then he disappeared in a flash of light. If the undead had functioning eyes, they would have widened. Teleporting this early should have been impossible. The earliest someone could cast any teleport spell was at level 50. How could this- a large sword made of light arced down towards its shoulder. The undead quickly sent a copious amount of mana towards its clavicle, hoping that it was enough. When the sword struck the bone, it bounced back in a flare of light. Before the undead could celebrate this small win, it had to put this hero down. Spikes erupted out of the undead's body, impaling where Luke just was. The lieutenant swivels its head around, looking for the hero, but before it can find him, a blade of light severed the undead's left hand. Quickly reacting, the undead cast grasp soul on where the hero was and again fails to find his target.

How could this hero have this much mana to even cast a blink spell this many times? It mattered not, though, as the lieutenant couldn't lose this fight, for it was not just undead but a lich, well a lesser lich but nonetheless a lich. Even if the hero kills this body, another one would just be made. It almost brought a smile to its face, well, if it could smile. This time the lich was ready for the attack as Luke's sword cleaved the air where its head was, and for the first time this fight, the lich landed a hit. Purple fire rapidly climbed up Luke's legs, his skin popping and slopping off his legs. Barely holding back a scream, Luke was able to rend the undead's head from its shoulders.

Luke then fell to his knees, screaming in pain, casting every healing spell he could to slow the spread of the flames. Even in this pain-addled state, Luke could still sense the undead's soul getting sucked somewhere that was not the afterlife. 'Oh fuck, it's a lich' were Luke's thoughts as his vision went black.