Azure Scepter

Page 117

It raised its eyes and looked at the dwarf's replaced vampire eye.

“Faced with a powerful enemy, we only need one mindset, one command,” Ghost said with a smile. “If you don’t choose to leave, then how can I rightfully kill you?”

The dwarf's expression suddenly changed. He subconsciously reached for the magic storage stone at his waist, but the next moment—the walking corpse hanging from the ceiling suddenly stretched out its withered claws and grabbed his eye sockets.

"Pfft!"

Amidst a chilling tearing sound, the dwarf howled as he was pulled to the ground, the black notebook crashing to the floor with a thud.

“Resistance is pointless.” The handsome ghost floated past the trembling apprentice and came to the dwarf’s side. “A novice in necromancy like you is more valuable dead than alive. You see, you don’t even understand the power of the walking dead.”

Amidst the pool of blood, the dwarf suddenly opened his mouth, and in the next instant, his tongue shot out like a sharp sword, then flew straight towards the ghost.

As a seasoned necromancer in the City That Never Sleeps, he had already replaced 80% of his necromancer limbs with prosthetics, and almost every part of his body had been replaced with a more powerful necromancer body.

"Bang!" The hard wall suddenly shattered, and a long tongue, like a knight's lance, smashed through the wall, sending choking dust flying to the ground.

However, the ghost was unharmed. It yawned deeply and then grabbed the dwarf's tongue.

The outcome was already decided—in the end, the dwarves did not cast a single spell.

"Why?!" the dwarf demanded in anguish. "Why did you kill me?"

"Would you like to hear the truth or a lie?" the elf asked kindly.

The dwarf did not answer; he stared wide-eyed at the other man.

The resurrected prisoners flailed their arms wildly, their withered nails digging into flesh and blood, hooking the apprentices' shoulders and elbows. Amidst the dull sounds of bones cracking and screams of agony, the apprentices were suddenly reduced to a shower of minced meat.

The ghost shrugged.

"The lie is that I think your soul fragments are excellent as casting material—if used well, I might even regain the casting abilities I had when I was adventuring with His Majesty."

"Who the hell are you?" the dwarf screamed, a tear of blood streaming from his eye. He could clearly feel his connective and muscle tissue dissolving, and his skin becoming loose... Power flowed away from his body like a tide, slowly flowing towards the smiling elf.

“An old relic that should have been forgotten long ago,” the ghost replied with a smile. “I am merely a humble servant who swore an oath to serve the power of destruction.”

It paused, as if it had suddenly become interested in having a conversation.

“I should have been enjoying the tranquil destruction in eternal silence, but my sovereign, who was still on earth, summoned me back, so I have returned.”

At this moment, the dwarf was completely unable to speak. His eyeballs had turned into blood, and his tongue had become a withered, black, rotten piece of flesh. He was breathing heavily, and his life had come to an end.

“Oh, right.” The ghost released his grip on the dwarf’s tongue and stood up. “The real reason I killed you was because you were too noisy. I hate talking lunatics and I hate screaming. You disturbed my rest, you really deserve to die.”

The ghostly voice echoed in the interrogation room. After a moment, the echo disappeared, and the dark Aurenor Fortress fell silent once more. Meanwhile, a new ghost slowly coalesced on the dwarf's corpse...

Chapter 235 The Avenging Angel (Part Two)

Sir Lawrence arrived at the ghoul-infested hill in the afternoon.

The afternoon breeze carried a slight chill. Before he could even see the lumberjack's hut the scout had mentioned, a strange smell of rotting human fat wafted through the air, and his servant immediately vomited.

"vomit--"

“By the Radiance, this is disgusting—Sir, look at that cauldron—the thighs in it are human flesh! These damned cultists!” the servant screamed. “And children’s intestines, fingernails, ugh—”

Sir Lawrence pressed down on the servant's neck, causing him to vomit elsewhere.

"You should be glad it wasn't you in the pot."

The old knight waved for the infantry behind him to go first, then turned around and spoke coldly to his pale-faced attendant.

“If there are undead lurking here, judging by your current appearance, which looks like you just climbed out of a woman’s bed, you’ll be disemboweled.”

“Glory, with Lord Trier’s protection, we will only go from one victory to another.” The servant wiped his mouth and stubbornly argued, “Sir, look at that pot. We must kill those beasts and seek justice for these dead.”

“You should be more familiar with war and killing than with revenge.” Lawrence raised an eyebrow. “These are common sights. It would be strange if the undead didn’t eat people.”

As he said this, he glanced at the pot next to the bushes.

It was an iron pot, with solidified grease on the dark red soup. Human eyeballs and the heads of children with their faces peeled off were vaguely visible. In the middle of the pot, the old knight also saw a torn brown plush bear doll.

The plush toy was torn to shreds, and a thick layer of human oil had solidified on the black glass beads in its eye sockets.

He couldn't help but think of his granddaughter, who also loved these brown teddy bears.

"I will slaughter those undead." The young servant spat a mouthful of foul-smelling saliva at the large pot, then said viciously, "Those damned beasts."

“There’s no point in avenging the dead.” The old knight took off his helmet and touched his bald head. “Your brother, Hord, died in Beaver Town, and you are now the only male in the family. To be honest, you should protect yourself, or your mother will be very sad. When you encounter ghouls later, don’t get carried away and leave the group, understand?”

The attendant fell silent. After a moment, he muttered to himself, "Radiance, if only there really were vengeful angels. I really hope these savage monsters can receive the punishment they deserve."

“There are no angels in this world. Those are just pointless superstitions.” The old knight laughed. “Revenge still has to be done by the living. If you want to uphold justice, you might as well start by adapting to the battlefield environment—at least don’t vomit like a weakling.”

The young servant gripped his spear tightly, frowned, and glared at the distant horizon.

However, when the old knight Lawrence arrived at the outskirts of the lumberjacks' hut with his elite infantry, he was met with a sight that took him by surprise.

—The pungent smell of putrid blood was mixed with the fresh scent of fir leaves. The mountain mist shrouded the scattered limbs and corpses like a shroud. Blood slowly flowed from the severed necks beneath the ghouls' hideous faces, then trickled down like streams onto the black humus.

All the ghouls were dead, dead without a sound.

Corpses littered the forest, and a cold wind swept through the valley, sounding like the shrieks of ghosts.

What kind of person could kill all these cunning and brutal undead so quickly?

A cold and chilling atmosphere filled the air, and unease permeated the ranks like winter frost. Lawrence noticed that under the pressure, his squire's face turned green, and his hand holding the spear shaft trembled violently as if he had been electrocuted.

Lawrence shook his head almost imperceptibly, then gripped his longsword tightly and looked into the distance.

The next moment, he froze.

Amidst the chaos, Trier sat on a tree stump, patiently wiping his weapon in the afternoon sun. His expression was calm, like a priest meditating in a church, seemingly oblivious to the corpses scattered everywhere.

The ghouls were all killed by Trier.

As the vanguard of the army, Sir Lawrence felt a little ashamed. His duty was to deal with any troubles the army encountered on its way, and now the army's commander was acting faster than him, which undoubtedly represented his dereliction of duty.

“Lord Trier,” the old knight bowed his head respectfully, “what brings you here?”

Trier looked up and gave a gentle smile.

“Fort Aureno is very close—I need to take a closer look, so I came here by myself.”

At this point, he slowly stood up and gazed into the distance.

"Sir Lawrence, have the soldiers tidy up the lumberjack's hut. I plan to use it as a temporary outpost. We'll discuss military deployments here tonight; the great battle is imminent."

"Was it even more intense than the battle in Danles City?" the old knight asked instinctively.

Trier chuckled twice.

"That fight in Danes City wasn't even a battle; it was more like an armed demonstration."

After saying that, Trier sat back down on the wooden stool and continued to slowly wipe the blood-red longsword.

Time passed second by second, and soon the blood-red setting sun enveloped the entire hillside.

Large groups of auxiliary soldiers and mercenaries poured into the designated location near the hill, and with the help of the mercenary leader Seris's magic, a small camp stretching for several kilometers quickly sprang up.

With the camp set up, Lawrence and his soldiers were nearing the end of their packing-up work. Although the order to have elite soldiers and knights clean up the house was absurd, Trier's reputation in the army was extremely high due to their continuous victories, so the men were enthusiastic about completing the task.

The hut, which was once filled with corpses, has now been completely transformed, and only the old knight Lawrence and his squire remain inside.

"Uncle Lawrence, were all those ghouls killed by Lord Trier?" the attendant asked in a low voice. "Radiance, those monsters all had only one fatal wound. Have you examined those sword wounds—not too deep, not too shallow, just right severing the spine..."

"Don't gossip." The old knight narrowed his eyes slightly. "As long as you don't slack off and are willing to work hard, you'll be able to do it one day."

"That wasn't swordsmanship, that was a divine miracle. I could never do it unless I received divine revelation..."

The servant muttered to himself as he reached out and opened a rotten wooden cabinet covered in scratches.

Amidst the grating creaking of the bearings, dust scattered everywhere, and from the swirling dust, a yellowed piece of paper floated out and landed right at Lawrence's feet.

The old knight hesitated for a moment, then picked up the paper and wiped off the dust.

This is a simple doodle drawn by a child. On the paper is a rather cute plush bear, next to which is a childish smiling face. Next to the smiling face is a crooked message full of typos.

"May Mommy, Little Bear, and Daddy be happy forever."

For a fleeting moment, the old knight's heart, hardened by war and slaughter, twitched. He suddenly remembered the human head he had seen in the iron pot that afternoon, and the torn plush bear doll—the child who drew that simple sketch had been boiled to death by the necromancer who controlled the ghouls.

"What bad luck." Lawrence crumpled the sketch, but the next moment, he discovered that there was a line of extremely distorted bloody words written on the back of the sketch.

"Mommy is a witch, she killed Daddy! Little bear, don't speak, Daddy is right outside the cupboard! Angels, please save me!"

Lawrence clenched his fist tightly, the iron gauntlet creaking as the crumpled paper was crushed into pieces. He took a deep breath and calmed down after a moment.

A chilling killing intent suddenly ignited within his numb heart.

Those damned, beastly cult members!

"Uncle, what's wrong?" The servant glanced at the debris on the ground with surprise.

The old knight's cloudy eyes brightened considerably, and he asked coldly, "Did you see any female corpses near the lumberyard?"

"I was too busy throwing up to pay attention," the servant said apologetically. "But... I don't think so. This is a logging camp, and most of the ghouls here are male laborers."

"Then she ran away," the old knight muttered to himself. "Ha, if there really were vengeful angels, this kind of thing would have been torn to pieces long ago."

"It would be a miracle if cultists didn't kill people," the servant joked, mimicking Lawrence's tone from that afternoon. "You see, aren't you also hoping for the existence of vengeful angels?"

Lawrence didn't reply, but the veins on the back of his hand holding the sword bulged, and his large knuckles turned slightly white.

“Listen up, my good nephew.” He said in a chilling tone, lowering his voice, “There are no angels in this world who punish evil and protect the good; the knights in stories who uphold justice are all ridiculous products of bards who have drunk too much horse urine and gone mad—in this cold world, golden dragons are earned with swords, power is earned with swords, even justice is earned with swords—all fools who place their hopes on external things are daydreaming.”

The attendant looked puzzled.

"Uncle, you're getting too excited—I have a good idea regarding the question of whether vengeful angels actually exist: why don't you ask Lord Trier, who received divine revelation from the Radiance!"

“That’s a stupid question.” Lawrence sighed and loosened his grip on the sword. “Lord Trier’s talent and wisdom are all the result of his own experience. How could divine revelation exist in this world? Divine revelation or angels are just lies that fools make up to comfort themselves.”

After saying this, the old knight pushed open the door and left the tidied-up cabin.

After dinner, he returned to the lumberjack's hut, where everyone else who had participated in the military meeting had already arrived.

Chapter 236 The Avenging Angel (Part 3)

Old Knight Lawrence turned the doorknob, pushed open the door, and then subtly glanced around the somewhat crowded room.

This is a spacious rectangular wooden cabin. In the middle of the cabin is a roughly made wooden table. The cold moonlight shines in from the window at the far end of the table and focuses on the huge military map on the table.

There were no chairs around the table; all the senior officers in the army stood and crowded around it.

The old knight lowered his eyelids and slowly walked towards the table. While walking, he quickly looked up and took in the distribution of the crowd.

People were clearly divided into three groups.

Trier stood at the end of the table, staring at him expressionlessly; while Lady Rolina's niece, High Priestess Noy, stood in the shadows behind Trier, a smile on her face, her eyes seemingly unfocused, yet also seemingly fixed on everyone.

To Trier’s left were the mercenary leader Seris and his outlaws, while to his right were the loyal and reliable knights and scout captains who were devoted to the Hall family.

At this moment, the mercenary leader Cyrus was frowning, his face grim, as if he too was aware that a great battle was imminent; and the mercenary captains around him, dressed in various styles, seemed to be infected by the oppressive atmosphere, also suppressing their usual joking and laughing, all of them lowering their heads to look at the map; only Cyrus's elven wife Jasmine looked angrily at Sir Scarpe standing opposite her.

“Move aside, human, your arms are too thick.” Jasmine raised an eyebrow. “Could you please stop panting? This is really rude.”

Sir Scarpe was as tall as a giant, occupying nearly a quarter of the room by herself. At this moment, this female knight, who was known for her size and taciturn nature, merely glanced at the elf indifferently, but made no other move.

Although everyone generally believed that Sir Scarpet was silent because she was not good at talking, the old knight knew very well that his colleague simply did not like to talk nonsense—her speaking style was very similar to her fighting style: either she didn't speak, or she delivered a fatal blow.

Suddenly, Lawrence's gaze sharpened slightly—he noticed a strange figure standing beside the female knight, a man dressed as a tailor, who suddenly laughed.

“Stop breathing? Hahahaha…” He shook his finger. “That’s a really funny joke, Elf. You’re so good with words. Please say a few more.”

Jasmine blinked incredulously, her face suddenly turning bright red.

The elf gritted his teeth, took a deep breath, and was about to speak when Noi interrupted him with a smile, saying, "It seems everyone has arrived, so let's get ready to start the meeting."

Noe's voice wasn't loud, but it had a significant effect; even the usually noisy Jesmine obediently shut up.

Since this mixed army set out, they have fought more than ten battles, large and small, and each battle can be described as a resounding victory with great gains and minimal losses. Therefore, the conflict between the soldiers and the mercenaries is not currently apparent, and Noy can stop the conflict with just a word.

A hush fell over the cabin as everyone turned to look at Trier at the far end of the table.

“Our next objective is to retake Fort Aureno,” Trier said in a deep voice. “Today we’re here to discuss specific tactics and division of labor—Sir Lawrence, you can start by introducing Fort Aureno.”

The old knight nodded slightly, then strode to the table and pointed to the red dot in the center of the map.

“Fort Aureno is an important strategic stronghold. If we take it, the undead will have no strategic stronghold in the northwest. But on the other hand, if we don’t take this fortress, then it will be a pipe dream to safely transport the refugees out. Because this fortress is built on Mount Hedlin, it can monitor the movements of all major armies in the entire region. At that time, the undead only need to use it as a base to launch surprise attacks from all sides, and the unorganized and untrained refugees will naturally collapse.”

As he spoke, he pointed to the brown peaks surrounding the red dot.

"However, taking Aureno Fortress is by no means an easy task. This fortress was built at the end of Queen Losevie's reign and has stood for nearly a thousand years. During this thousand years, the fortress has been continuously expanded and fortified. It is full of divine blessings and magical rituals from past generations. In addition, the terrain is treacherous, making it an extremely difficult task to take this fortress."

The old knight glanced at the orcs in the mercenary ranks, then continued.

"Several hundred years ago, during the reign of Duke Drago the Orc Impaler, there were still many roaming Orc tribes in the Southern Duchy. When the war between humans and orcs broke out, thousands of orcs began to besiege Aureno Fortress. At that time, there were only a few hundred defenders in the fortress. However, by the end of the war, the orcs had been slaughtered and the besiegers had not been able to take the fortress."