Chapter 23: Death
On the other side, the Osuan Guardian drew his sword in front of his own brother. As an Osuan Guardian, he had used swords, wooden sticks, and his fists throughout his life to protect his frail brother, who could fall at the slightest gust of wind. Anyone who dared to mock his brother for being a cripple or for being skinny and tall would surely receive a beating from this elder brother. Yet now, he was drawing his sword against his own brother. According to information from the Sorcerer Knights, the Witch King seized the port because of a betrayal by his own brother.
“Yes, brother,” said the Grand Mage Taige. “In fact, he is the true Phoenix King.”
The Osuan Guardian remained silent. As a warlord chosen by the War Council of the High Elves, he was responsible for coordinating and commanding the armies sent by the Elven kingdoms to defend their homeland from the Witch King and to protect his fellow tribesmen.
“Brother, I have already discussed this with the Witch King,” Taige said. “As long as you are willing to support the true Phoenix King and allow him to enter the Temple of Asu Yan and immerse himself in the sacred fire for rebirth, you will be his most trusted general, and your status along with the queen will not diminish in the slightest.”
“Brother,” the Osuan Guardian said, the feathers on his pointed helmet quivering. “You dare to betray me, betray us.”
“No, it is the entire High Elf race that has betrayed the true Phoenix King.”
“He massacres our fellow slaves,” the Osuan Guardian said. “Even if he is the true Phoenix King, I will still sever 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,” Taige replied. “But now, the Armies of Oblivion have nearly destroyed the Empire. I have faced the Eternal Chosen One, and he is stronger than any I have ever encountered. The only way to defeat him is to unite and develop allies.”
The feathers on the Osuan Guardian’s helmet stopped trembling, and he said coldly, “Continue.”
“Only the true Phoenix King holds the legitimacy to unite the High Elves, the Dark Elves, and our woodland brethren (Wood Elves),” Taige stated earnestly. “Only a united elven front can withstand the Armies of Oblivion and preserve our race.”
The Osuan Guardian suddenly shouted, “So you have sold my daughter to that group of vampires for sacrifice?”
Taige paused before responding, “This is merely a necessary sacrifice.”
“She was so lovely; when she was little, you used to love holding her and brushing her hair,” the Osuan Guardian trembled all over. “But you have deceived me, captured her, and offered her to those dead things.”
“This is unavoidable,” Taige said. “We must resurrect the Naga Master; only his undead army, as our allies, can withstand the Armies of Oblivion. Moreover, once resurrected, he will also be affected by the curse of Ainario, making him a powerful ally with weaknesses.”
“You… you…” The Osuan Guardian’s teeth trembled in anger, his eyes reddening with tears. “Traitor!”
With that, he swung his sword down.
“Brother, you have always been so impulsive,” Taige sighed, allowing the fiery sword of the Osuan Guardian to cleave through his form, which then turned into flickering light and dissipated into a constellation of sparkles.
Taige tricked his own brother once more; he had only met him in an illusion.
The Osuan Guardian yelled and screamed for a while before slowly calming down.
“I can’t, I can’t; I must protect my homeland and my daughter.”
His mind was in turmoil as he returned to focus on leading the army against the Dark Elf forces. In the meantime, he had an argument with several High Elven princes, not knowing how many of them viewed their own people’s lives as insignificant, betraying for the sake of so-called status and riches.
Why are they so foolish? Doubting themselves again and again? He had repelled the Witch King multiple times; it was just that this time, he was without his brother.
After the argument, the Osuan Guardian sought out his trusted servant.
He also looked for the Elven Queen to discuss how to rescue Eve Frostleaf.
The High Elven army was far away, and every naval force was precious; it was impossible to send a naval group to the Old World to land at the Imperial Marin Fortress and cross most of the continent to rescue Eve Frostleaf.
In the end, they thought of an old rival.
Dwarves.
On the map sent by the embassy of the Empire (more accurate than what humans used).
Near the Province of Silfenia, there was a Dwarven city called Rapidstream Fortress.
Although there had been bloody battles between the two races in ancient times, the situation was different now. Perhaps they could hold their noses and rebuild diplomatic relations with those stubborn, stinking, barbaric Dwarves who were so thick-headed?
In return, the Dwarves would have to fight the vampires and help rescue Eve Frostleaf.
But negotiating was another substantial obstacle. After all, Eve Frostleaf’s public identity was merely that of a powerful queen’s handmaiden, and nothing more.
George and the other Elves discussed for half a day before barely coming up with a reason.
To save his daughter, he was up all night discussing the details with the servants, while also dealing with the battle reports that came in from time to time.
Two days and nights later, they decided to use the Empire as an intermediary to engage in diplomatic negotiations with the Dwarves. Despite the ancient blood feud, the Empire and the Dwarves had always been steadfast allies, so much so that the High Elves had given the Imperial humans a nickname — “High Dwarfs.”
Once the final plan was ready, the Osuan Guardian’s anxiety eased somewhat.
Ignoring the Elven Queen, who had stormed off due to friction between them earlier, and without even shedding his armor, he returned directly to his tent and lay down on the bed.
As soon as he closed his eyes, he thought of betrayal, of little Frostleaf, who had raised her hands and called him “Daddy” when she was knee-high.
He gradually relaxed his tense and exhausted nerves.
But suddenly, someone outside called for him, waking him up.
The Osuan Guardian quickly grasped his sword and carefully lifted the tent flap — based on his experience of being ambushed 309 times, he had seen messengers masquerading as bearers of urgent news to launch assassination attempts.
This time it was not an assassination, but a message more terrifying than death.
All the dead in the city’s cemeteries were awakening and transforming into mindless zombies.
Afterward, more news reports came in; there were zombies in every township, wherever there were corpses, there were zombies.
It was scary, but only frightening.
After dealing with the less destructive zombies, the Osuan Guardian obtained explanations from the White Tower Mages.
The Wind of Death had suddenly surged, and they used various forms of divination to come to a vague conclusion: someone was performing a resurrection ritual for the Naga Master, and it might succeed, or it might fail, but it was more likely to succeed.
The Osuan Guardian staggered; the soft, smiling face of little Frostleaf in his dream shattered, replaced by blood.
His vision filled with blood, and amidst the blood, he saw a sword, a northern sword, the Sword of Cain, the Husband Slayer.
Once again, he heard its voice; once he drew it, he could slay the traitor, exact revenge, and save his kin.
…
…
“Bang!”
A zombie’s head exploded, and its body fell, lying next to a pile of dead zombie corpses.
Smoke wafted from the gun’s muzzle.
Ji Ma blew on it and said, “I love blowing zombie heads off.”
If it weren’t for Ji Ma, the starving weapon said, “Blood…”
“Looks like the ritual failed.”
Ji Ma turned her head to Eve Frostleaf and said, “That’s what caused such a commotion; all the dead in the world have woken up.”
