Chapter 24 Chapter 23 Death
On the other side.
The Osuan Guardian drew his sword before his own brother.
As an Osuan Guardian, he had used swords, sticks, and fists throughout his life to protect his frail and sickly brother, who could fall over at the slightest breeze.
Anyone who dared to mock his brother for being a cripple or a tall, skinny twig would inevitably receive a beating from this elder brother.
Yet here he was, drawing his sword against his own brother, based on the information from the sword mages that the Witch King seized the port because his own brother had leaked secrets.
“Yes, brother,” said the First Great Mage Tager. “He is actually the true Phoenix King.”
The Osuan Guardian did not speak. As a general appointed by the High Elf War Council, he was responsible for coordinating and commanding the armies sent by the elven kingdoms, tasked with defending his homeland and protecting his fellow elves from the Witch King once again.
“Brother, I have already discussed it with the Witch King,” Tager said. “As long as you are willing to support the real Phoenix King, allow him to jump into the sacred fire at the Temple of Asuyan and be reborn from the flames, you will be his most trusted general, and your status alongside the queen will not be diminished in the slightest.”
“Brother,” the Osuan Guardian said, the feathers on his pointed helmet trembling. “You have betrayed me, betrayed us.”
“No, the entire High Elves have betrayed the true Phoenix King.”
“He slaughtered our fellow slaves,” the Osuan Guardian said. “Even if he is the true Phoenix King, I will chop off his head and kick it into the sea.”
“Brother, if it were before, I would have been more than willing to help you behead the Witch King,” Tager said. “But now the Doomsday Army has nearly destroyed the empire. I have faced the Eternal Chosen; he is more powerful than any Eternal Chosen I have ever seen. The only way to defeat him is through a united front and developing allies.”
The feathers on the Osuan Guardian’s helmet stopped trembling, and he said coldly, “Continue.”
“Only the true Phoenix King has the legitimacy to unify the High Elves, Dark Elves, and our Woodland brethren (Wood Elves),” Tager said sincerely. “Only a united elven front can withstand the Doomsday Army and ensure the continuation of our race.”
The Osuan Guardian suddenly shouted, “So you sold my daughter to those vampires for sacrifice?”
Tager paused and said, “It was a necessary sacrifice.”
“She is so adorable; when she was little, you loved to hold her and comb her hair,” the Osuan Guardian trembled all over. “Yet you kept this from me, captured her, and offered her to those dead men.”
“This was unavoidable,” Tager said. “We must resurrect Nagash; only his undead army can serve as our ally to stop the Doomsday Army. Moreover, after being resurrected, he will also be affected by Anarion’s curse, making him a powerful ally with weaknesses.”
“You…you…” The Osuan Guardian was so angry that his teeth chattered, his eyes reddened, and tears streamed down his face. “Traitor!”
With that, he swung his sword to strike.
“Brother, you have always been so impulsive.” Tager sighed and allowed the red fire sword of the Osuan Guardian to cut through his body. His form turned into a flickering light and faded into a multitude of glowing points.
Tager had deceived his own brother once more; he had only met him in an illusion.
The Osuan Guardian shouted for a long while before gradually calming down.
“No, no, I must defend my homeland and protect my daughter.”
His heart was in turmoil as he went back to lead the army against the Dark Elves. During this time, he quarreled with several other elven lords, not knowing how many viewed their people’s lives as insignificant, betraying them for so-called status and wealth.
Why were they so foolish? How could they repeatedly doubt themselves? They had clearly repelled the Witch King many times. It was just that this time, he was without his brother.
After the quarrel, the Osuan Guardian found his trusted servant and sought out the elven queen to discuss how to rescue Eve Frostleaf.
The High Elf army was too distant, and now every navy was especially precious; it was simply impossible to travel to the Old World from Imperial Marlinburg, traversing much of the continent, to rescue Eve Frostleaf for the sake of a single maid.
In the end, they thought of their old rivals.
The Dwarves.
On the map sent from the embassy in the empire (more accurate than the maps used by humans).
Near the province of Silvania, there lay a Dwarven city called Rapid Fortress.
Although the two races had once fought a bloody battle in ancient times, the situation was different now. Perhaps it was possible to hold their noses and rebuild diplomatic relations with those stubborn, foul-smelling, barbaric, and inflexible Dwarves?
As a price, the Dwarves would have to attack the vampires and coincidentally rescue Eve Frostleaf.
But legitimacy was a major issue. After all, Eve Frostleaf’s public identity was merely a powerful queen’s maid, nothing more.
George and the other elves spent a long time discussing before barely coming up with a reason.
To save his daughter, he stayed up all night with his servants discussing the details while also dealing with the battle reports that came in intermittently.
After two days and nights, they determined that they would negotiate diplomatic relations with the Dwarves through the empire as an intermediary. Although there was a deep-rooted blood feud with the Dwarves, the empire and the Dwarves had always been steadfast allies, so much so that the High Elves nicknamed the imperial people “Short Highs.”
When the final plan was established, the Osuan Guardian’s anxiety was slightly alleviated.
He ignored the upset elven queen—there had been some friction between them previously. Without even removing his armor, he returned straight to his tent and lay down on the bed.
As soon as he closed his eyes, he thought of betrayal, of when Eve Frostleaf was only knee-high, raising her hands to call him ‘Daddy.’
He tightened his weary nerves and gradually relaxed.
But suddenly, someone outside called him, waking him up.
The Osuan Guardian quickly took up his sword, cautiously lifting the tent flap—based on his experience of being assassinated three hundred and nine times, he had encountered messengers who disguised themselves as bearers of urgent news to assassinate.
This time it was not an assassination, but a message even more terrifying than death.
All the dead from the city’s graveyards were rising as mindless zombies.
Afterward, more reports came in—from townships, from everywhere; wherever there were dead bodies, there were inevitably zombies.
It was frightening, but it was only frightening.
After dealing with the less destructive zombies,
the Osuan Guardian received an explanation from the White Tower Mages.
It was a sudden surge of the Wind of Death; they used various forms of divination and hazily concluded that someone was conducting the resurrection ceremony of Nagash, which might have succeeded or failed, but was likely successful.
The Osuan Guardian swayed a bit; the smiling face of little Frostleaf from his dream shattered, replaced by blood.
His vision was filled with blood, and among the blood, he saw a sword to the north—the Sword of Cain, the Husband-Slayer.
He once again heard its voice: as long as it was drawn, he could slay the traitor, exact vengeance, and save his kin.
…
“Bang!”
A zombie’s head exploded, its body falling to lie next to a group of dead zombie corpses.
Smoke wafted from the gun’s muzzle.
Jima blew and said, “I love blowing off zombie heads.”
Having offended Jima, the starving weapon said, “Blood…”
“Probably the ritual failed,” Jima turned to Eve Frostleaf and said. “That’s why it caused such a commotion; all the dead in the world have awakened.”
