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Chapter 99: Who Told You It Was One-on-One?

The fate of the Empire hung on a thread, pricking Winter’s already dwindling conscience.

Besides, this plan was concocted by the Empress herself; he couldn’t make decisions alone.

“Power in the world, a beauty’s embrace—sounds lovely, but if you don’t dare to gamble or fight, how could it ever come true?” Saar saw right through his hesitation, hitting the nail on the head with just one sentence.

“But…”

“I know you’re worried about Roy Ainbrad. But what if I could help you kill him?” Saar smoothly continued to tempt him.

“Who cares what forces are backing him? A dead man can’t do much! If we strike now, Your Highness can even frame the border forces for it—talk about killing two birds with one stone!”

It dawned on Winter that Cultists had an unusual obsession with Roy, making them perfect pawns for his plans.

Just one gamble, and it could use him to achieve two goals.

Suppressing his impulse, Winter doubted, “Barnes and his crew already failed; are you sure you can take him down?”

“If I weren’t sure, would I be suggesting this?” The Cult Priest radiated confidence as if Roy was already a corpse.

Winter’s confusion slowly faded away, a smile creeping to his lips.

Yeah, why not gamble!

The throne, the Empire, Xue Nuo—if he won, all would be his!

Amidst such grand ambitions, his remaining conscience became an afterthought.

Winter nodded gravely, “Fine.”

——————

Tonight, Snowwind Fortress was ablaze with lights and decor.

In this barren frontier where entertainment was scarce, the Winter Festival was one of their few celebrations. The city was aglow with laughter and the aroma of food, a cruel tease for the soldiers who could only guard the gates in the cold night.

Of course, well-trained Imperial soldiers wouldn’t slack off, remaining ever vigilant against movements in the icy plains outside.

But they couldn’t fathom that the real threat lay not outside the gates.

“Stop…?!”

At every city gate, a few pale-robed Necromancers appeared, summoning hundreds of skeletons and corpses in the blink of an eye and overpowering the guards.

No matter how valiant the soldiers were, they couldn’t withstand the sheer numbers; only a handful managed to flee, racing back to the inner city.

“Quick, call for reinforcements! Wait, is that the Imperial Guard?!”

“Are we saved…?!”

The soldiers, who had barely escaped danger, were shocked to find their own comrades in the Imperial Guard descending upon them with swords drawn.

The bright lights gradually succumbed to flames, enthusiastic laughter engulfed by screams of horror. One moment, the streets were bustling with joy, the next they were transformed into a hellscape by the onslaught of skeletons and corpses.

On the battlements, watching Snowwind Fortress fall, High Priest Saar’s expression remained utterly uninspired.

Mortal lives were but trifles; silence was their eternal fate.

Before the God of Death’s gifts, they should meet their end quietly, with gratitude.

Just like we, the disciples of the God of Death.

At the gates, after summoning the undead, these Cultists unabashedly used bone knives inscribed with dark runes to slit their own throats.

Murky blood, laced with a pale light, streamed forth as the followers of death sacrificed themselves to trace a summoning circle in the snow, far beyond their own limits.

Meanwhile, in the icy plains of the Demon Realm, the undead army that had stood in wait like ice statues finally began to move.

On horseback wreathed in pale flames, clad in heavy armor, a towering and fearsome undead general looked one last time toward the imposing Desperate Defense Line, sneering arrogantly.

“Lowly humans, prepare to relive the fear we command.”

The general raised his sword, and the magnificent army surged forward through the snowstorm, crossing the summoning circle, once again treading on the territory of mankind after hundreds of years.

The Demon Race yearned to breach the defense line and invade the human realm, while the School of Necromancy sought to sow chaos, sacrificing countless corpses and vengeful spirits to bolster the power of death and strengthen themselves.

These two factions had deep-rooted ties, and for a common goal, cooperation was feasible.

Yet, after confirming the success of the summoning, Saar lost interest in the plan and turned away.

The Empire, the Demon Race—they were merely pawns of the God of Death; who cared whether they succeeded or not?

From the moment the False King’s blood arrived here, these trivial matters were insignificant!

——————

Roy had just begun to feel sleepy when a commotion jolted him awake.

Looking up, he saw the night sky stained red by flames.

At first, Roy thought the Empire was just celebrating wildly, but he quickly noticed a crowd of soldiers gathering outside the Lord’s Manor, realizing the gravity of the situation.

The original bad ending had already shifted, but the fateful nodes were still intact, indicating Winter still had a trick up his sleeve.

Was he acting in a rage? But starting a war needed a reason; striking recklessly wouldn’t benefit the stability of the Empire…

Without time to think further, Roy leaped out of bed.

However, just as he grasped the doorknob, a chill shot through him, sending a jolt of dread into his heart.

This feeling… he was all too familiar with it.

Cultist!

A thunderous crash echoed as a skeletal hand smashed through the door, a powerful strike obliterating the entire room. Roy wished he could be blasted through the wall and tumble into the courtyard.

Outside, Saar stepped through the wreckage, scaling the stairway made of skeletons, and his gaze landed on the boy who had landed perfectly in the courtyard, completely unscathed, eyebrows raised in surprise.

He even had the leisure to dust off the gray from his shoulder.

“Dragon Scale Protection—it’s real… No wonder the Cult of the Evil Dragon can’t handle you.”

“As if you guys have any options,” Roy replied coolly.

“Making such a ruckus—do you really think the frontier guards are just sitting around?”

Honestly speaking, in terms of pure combat effectiveness, the Winter Iron Guard could even surpass the Storm Knights. The School of Necromancy relied solely on low-tier undead swarming tactics, which wouldn’t yield much advantage.

“The frontier guards have their own affairs, False King’s blood. You should be more concerned about yourself,” the gaunt old man radiated an aura of Sequence 6, chilling to the bone.

“You all couldn’t kill me even if you banded together, and now it’s just you? Still so confident?” Roy drew his longsword, twirling it casually, though his stance was flawless.

He spoke dismissively, but Roy didn’t dare let his guard down.

Cultists had bizarre methods that can’t be judged by ordinary bloodline levels.

This High Priest, daring to come alone, surely had some powerful trump card hidden.

“In a one-on-one, you are undoubtedly dead.”

The old man let out a cold snort, his pale eyes burning, his form becoming blurred and distorted.

But just as his opponent was about to strike, as Roy braced himself, an even more chilling wind, colder than the undead’s, whooshed in.

Snowflakes danced around.

The Silver-Haired Girl stepped onto the snow.

“Who told you it was one-on-one?”

As she emerged, cloaked in snow and emanating a terrifying chill, the expression of the Necromancer transformed into one of spectacle.

Roy was equally taken aback.

With such a ruckus outside, Xue Nuo should have gone to support within the city first…

Why did she arrive here before anyone else?