Staring at the gruesome head of the Supreme King lying on the ground, everyone present could not believe their own eyes.
The Supreme King… is dead?
Not long ago, the Supreme King had seemingly broken through the miraculous, changed professions to a Divine Follower, and received the protection of the Ancestral God. Now, he had died just like that?
And to be beheaded so easily with a single sword strike?
“An illusion, this must be an illusion…”
Barbarian Prince Chris stared trembling at his father, the man who had united the barbarian tribes and was poised to carve out new territories for the Empire, to achieve everlasting glory. Was his father truly dead?
But the persistent terror he could not shake off, the blood spurting from his father’s neck, and even the pungent dust swept up by the wild winds across the steppe, all reminded this barbarian prince of the reality before his eyes.
His father, the mighty one once blessed by the Ancestral Spirits, was truly dead.
If his father was really dead, then he…
Chris suddenly threw his head back in terror and looked at Green.
“Don’t, don’t kill me!”
The barbarian prince’s words seemed to flip a switch, jolting the confused crowd back to their senses as they all realized what had just happened before their eyes.
“Miracles… can they really exist?”
Colonel Rennes looked at Green, his feelings complicated.
On the one hand, he was incredibly grateful that he seemed to have gained a chance to survive.
But on the other hand…
“Legendary… I really underestimated him before.” Colonel Rennes rolled his eyes in annoyance. “Someone so powerful actually bothered to play the role of some dandy bard?”
“And yet, he’s here to assist that Princess Theresa…”
After a short complaint, Colonel Rennes immediately analyzed the current situation.
“Could it be that Princess Theresa possesses something special, worthy of such an influential figure betting on her?”
For a powerhouse of this level to openly support Princess Theresa, it couldn’t simply be “for fun and amusement”—there must be a much deeper motive.
“Forget it, what does any of this have to do with a little Consultant at a fortress earning a few dozen silver coins a month?”
The big shots in the Capital could play their power games.
As for Rennes, out here on the border, he had his own struggle to survive.
“So what I must do… is carry out my original plan!”
Encirclement, decapitation, annihilation!
“Foolish barbarians, receive the righteous judgment of the Empire!”
Rennes shouted loudly to his subordinates, “Anyone who dares invade the Empire’s territory, no matter how far, will be slain!”
With great pride and vigor, Rennes swung his saber and led the army in a charge against the barbarians.
Though their numbers were few, and during the earlier defensive battle they had shrunk their lines just to conserve strength, now running out of both ammunition and supplies—
Yet at this moment, this mere few hundred imperial soldiers truly radiated an aura as if they could take revenge on the Barbarian Army dozens of times their size.
“You are already surrounded by us!”
Splat!
Rennes’ saber danced wildly, and with every swing, he took the life of a panicked barbarian warrior trying to escape. At this moment, this long-frustrated Chief Consultant seemed like a deity deciding the fates of men—mighty and untouchable.
The bravado the barbarians had always prided themselves on seemed to vanish in an instant.
They kept retreating, unable even to muster a token resistance.
With morale lost, the inherent weakness of the Barbarian Army’s poor organization—stemming from their lack of cultural development—became glaringly obvious.
Unlike the Imperial Army, with its clear Commander hierarchy, the Barbarian Army relied solely on the prestige of their leaders, fighting only by rousing the warriors’ spirits in a single rush. After repeatedly having their hopes raised and then dashed, they had lost even the last shreds of willpower.
With no real discipline to speak of, and with units commanded by different tribal chiefs, the Barbarian Army immediately fell apart in total collapse.
“Kill! Kill! Kill! For the Empire!”
By contrast, after witnessing the “miracle” Green had just performed, the morale of the Imperial soldiers soared to indescribable heights.
Victory is certain!
Vengeance!
How many years had it been, since the Capital had slashed the fortress military budget? How long had the border forces been forced to live with such humiliation?
Scrounging by, abandoning the people of disputed borderlands, subsisting only on the “tribute” from border merchants…
Where was the shadow of the once-glorious Imperial Army? Where was the reputation of the unyielding bastions of old?
The troops that Rennes now led to battle were the fortress’s last surviving elite.
When their fellow officers and comrades gave up and decayed, it was these men who remained true to their hearts—the most spirited and ambitious in the entire army.
Even when facing despair, they had fought on, upholding honor and courage.
And now, with the dawn of victory before them, how could they possibly let this chance slip away?
Thus, as the tens of thousands of barbarians routed, Rennes’s ambush troops erupted with unrivaled combat strength. Despite their vastly inferior numbers, they counterattacked, pursued, and even surrounded the enemy.
Splurt, splurt, splurt!
One after another, barbarian warriors fell like wheat before the scythe.
The Imperial soldiers’ weapons sent up sprays of blood, but they pressed ever forward, tirelessly forcing the barbarian warriors into a dead end.
“Die, barbarians!”
“Avenge the fallen of the Empire!”
Bang! Bang!
With the crack of crystal-energy rifles, smoke and chaos swept the battlefield once more, but this time, hunter and prey had swapped places.
“No, it can’t be like this…” Barbarian Prince Chris could not believe what he saw. All the things he once took pride in were shattered in this moment.
That dandy who should have been crushed with a wave of his hand; the noble princess who should have married him; the invincible free army; the father who should have achieved immortal glory…
“Your Highness, in this world… there is nothing that is truly impossible.”
Green strolled leisurely to Chris’s side, his eyes icy as he stared at the now-dazed barbarian prince.
At this moment, Chris’s eyes were just like Theresa’s when Green first met her in the tavern.
Lost, helpless, lifeless.
Some people, though still alive, are already dead, their bodies mere empty shells walking the earth.
“No, no!!!”
Facing Green’s step-by-step approach, the barbarian prince broke down, screaming and flailing his arms, but could only watch as his father’s killer drew ever closer.
“I, I don’t want to die, please!” Chris’s towering frame now crumpled pathetically, the intricate totems covering his strong muscles—the very symbols of his tribe’s honor—could no longer give him the courage to face death.
“Don’t kill me, I beg you!”
Green ignored his pleas.
“Green.”
Just then, Theresa called out to him.
?!
The barbarian prince looked at Theresa in delight—the woman he considered his perfect fiancée.
Could it be…
It seemed impossible, but now completely unhinged and unable to think straight in the face of death, Chris just blinked rapidly, as if grasping at a lifeline.
Yes, Chris kept thinking.
No matter what, I am still the heir to the Free Kingdom. With my father dead, I am the next king.
How could I die at the hands of some lowborn nobody?
I’ve heard that city folk value bloodlines and hierarchy. That monster, though powerful, is just a commoner brute.
But me? I am a noble prince!
That’s why she’s pleading for me; that’s why I still have a chance to live?
Yes, I must survive! As long as I live, I can rebuild my army and claim my throne again.
Right now, winning the favor of the princess is what matters most!
“Your Highness!” The barbarian prince crawled obsequiously to Theresa, prostrating himself and pleading, “As a noble of the Empire, you surely understand the importance of noble blood. If you let me go, as the Free Kingdom’s sole heir, I will repay you a thousandfold, a millionfold!”
“…”
Theresa did not respond to the barbarian prince’s nonsense. She only took a slow breath. “Mr. Green, did you just say I’m a great ruler? Someone at the end of her rope, forced to use herself as bait—how could that be considered great?”
“It is precisely because of this that I am certain you are a far better ruler than you believe.”
Green calmly explained, “Though you are inexperienced in many ways, you possess a great virtue—you do what must be done, even knowing it may be impossible.”
“I see.” Theresa nodded quietly.
“Uh?” Prince Chris blinked, suddenly realizing his earlier delusion might have been misplaced.
Clang—
The fierce sword, still stained with his father’s blood, was placed against his neck.
“Tell me—how did my royal brother work with you? Tell me everything, from the very beginning.” Theresa’s gaze was icy, utterly devoid of emotion.
“A wise decision.” Green nodded in approval. “You are starting to show a ruler’s bearing.”
That’s all because of you, Mr. Green.
Upon hearing the bard’s praise, Theresa’s cheeks flushed. Her breathtakingly beautiful face seemed, in that instant, to dispel the wails and screams drifting over the steppe.
“Th-this…” Unfortunately, with death upon him, Prince Chris had no mind to appreciate the beauty of his supposed fiancée. His legs trembled uncontrollably, and he wanted to speak, but no words came.
“I—I only know…” Yet the survival instinct still forced him to rack his brain for anything to say, so in desperation, he began to recall the conversation between the cloaked man and his father.
“In the main tent, my father met with that cloaked man. They talked about the female magician’s prophecy, and also about Blood Sacrifice…”
Prophecy?
Of course Theresa remembered the female magician’s prophecy—the reason for her exile.
But, Blood Sacrifice?
“Uh, uh, ahhhh!”
But before Theresa could ponder further, a crimson light suddenly burst from Chris’s body, swallowing him completely in an instant.
“No, no, help me, help!”
That familiar taint again?
Green’s eyes narrowed. “Careful!”
Whoosh—
At some point, a lurking figure nearby made a move—a dagger thrust straight for Theresa’s heart.
Clang!
Green produced a battered longsword from who knows where and parried the dagger’s sneak attack.
Staring at the cloaked figure, whose entire being exuded a chilling aura, Green grew more wary—far more so than even when facing the Supreme King of the barbarians.
“H-help me…” The barbarian prince desperately crawled to the feet of the cloaked man.
Splat.
The cloaked man disdainfully lifted his foot and stomped down on Chris’s rapidly disintegrating body.
Squelch, squelch…
Barbarian Prince Chris was reduced to a puddle of muck.
“Useless trash.” The cloaked man commented, glancing at the Supreme King’s decapitated body.
“I wanted to refine a proper Puppet, but thanks to you, it was all ruined.”
The cloaked man muttered with irritation, “Weren’t you supposed to have no one at all beside the princess? Where did this dual-class legend pop up from? Tch, tch, when I get back to the Capital, I’ll be having words with that magician.”
“Who are you?” Green asked.
“The Puppeteer.” The assassin pulled back his hood, revealing a lifelike Puppet as his true form.
“And also, the unlucky soul commissioned by someone to use Blood Sacrifice to refine an Immortal Elixir.”
“‘Someone’—do you mean my royal brother?” Theresa bit her lip hard. “Just to win favor with Father, he actually…”
“Eh? Anyway, since you’re about to die, let me make you a well-informed ghost.”
The Puppet touched his smooth head, the woodgrain faintly visible beneath the surface.
“The one who wants eternal life, that big shot, is my real employer.”
Wants eternal life?
Could it be?
Father? Impossible!
Theresa’s face turned ashen.