But now, looking at Agnus's eager face, his almost manic glee at the prospect of me building more towers, I saw the truth. The merchant wasn't exaggerating. There was disdain in my heart as the truth about Agnus settled in. This man wasn't incompetent, he was a coward. The injuries he'd claimed to have sustained from the monsters? Likely a fabrication, a convenient excuse to avoid the dangers that lurked beyond the city walls. While the people of Vermillion suffered, he'd been hiding, playing the role of the wounded victim.The old man was terrified, consumed by a primal fear of death, a fear that extended to the very monsters he claimed to have fought. Agnus, despite his sixth-circle power, was likely no match for those creatures. Age had eroded his strength, leaving him with the power of a fourth-circle mage at best.His offer, his desperate plea for me to stay and oversee the tower construction, suddenly made sense. He needed someone to protect him, someone to shield him from the
"Young Master," he began, his voice laced with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension, "what are those?" He gestured towards the carriages, his brow furrowed in confusion.I turned to look behind me, noticing that the residents who had gathered to greet us were wrinkling their noses in disgust. The air hung heavy with a cloying, metallic odor that sent a shiver down my spine."Corpses," I stated simply, striding towards one of the carriages and lifting the heavy cover.Beneath the canvas, a grotesque sight met their eyes. A human-like head, twisted and contorted in a silent scream, stared back at them with vacant, lifeless eyes.A wave of fear rippled through the crowd, but it wasn't the paralyzing terror that one might expect. They had already witnessed the aftermath of the beastmen attacks, their streets littered with the fallen. The sight of corpses, though unsettling, was not entirely unfamiliar.It was the unexpectedness of it all, the sheer audacity of displaying such a macabre
And with Richard's ambitious plans for Vermillion City, the demand for gemstones was only going to escalate. More towers meant more power, and more power meant a voracious appetite for the precious stones. The future looked bright, but it also presented a challenge – how to meet the ever-growing need without compromising safety or sustainability.The unique compensation system in Ice Demon City, where earnings were directly tied to productivity, fueled this surge in demand. It was a system that rewarded hard work and dedication, creating a culture of ambition and drive. If one could outpace their peers, they could earn significantly more, a powerful incentive in a city where opportunity was abundant.It was no surprise, then, that the mines were overflowing with eager workers. Even Mason, the city's architect, had been forced to take a break from his grand designs to personally recruit more men. The demand was simply too great to ignore.Mason led me through the bustling market, his
The weight of the report pressed down on Lance, heir to the Ironwing legacy, like a shroud woven from despair. His normally stoic features were creased with a frown, a stark contrast to the confident visage he usually presented. Just weeks ago, the Ironwing army had been the apex predator, their boots trampling the sacred grounds of the Beast Kingdom, their blades reaping a bloody harvest of monstrous lives. Now, the tables had turned with a sickening swiftness. A major city, a jewel in their crown, had fallen to the ravenous horde, and the chilling whispers on the wind spoke of Northspire, his city, as the next target."Drakan and Masashin," Lance murmured, his voice a low growl, "they should still be locked in a bloody dance with Gislain and Osman. Surely, they haven't fallen so quickly.He paced the length of his war room, the polished floor reflecting the flickering flames of the hearth. Each step echoed the heavy thud of his heart, a drumbeat of anxiety against the silence. The
The scouts and Gazelle exchanged glances, a silent amusement flickering in their eyes as they watched Lance. His smile, a thin, almost predatory curve of his lips, held a secret they couldn't fathom. They chuckled softly, a low rumble of mirth that died quickly in the tense atmosphere. Little did they know, that smile wasn't born of confidence, but of cold, calculated knowledge. Lance knew exactly who would fall, and who would be left to mourn."Gazelle," Lance's voice was a low, commanding rumble, "the moment they cross the valley's threshold, unleash the traps. Let them taste the earth before they even know what hit them." His gaze swept over the assembled troops, a sea of steel and determination. "Knights, cavalries, form a wall! Deny them escape! Let them know this valley is their tomb!" He turned to the archers, his eyes burning with a fierce light. "And you, my archers, your arrows will sing a song of death. Aim for the heart, aim for the eyes, aim for the soul!"A chorus of a
The dust kicked up by his retreating soldiers still hung heavy in the air as Lance crested the final ridge overlooking the valley. His mind, however, was already miles away, focused on the city below. He had sent a silent, urgent command, a mental ripple that echoed through the minds of every soldier guarding the city walls, ordering them to abandon their posts and retreat to the safety of First Fort. A thousand lives, he knew, hung in the balance. A thousand lives would have been spilt like water on the cobblestones if he hadn't acted.He had only been gone a few hours, a mere blink in the face of impending doom. Yet, when he returned, the city he had sworn to protect lay in smoldering ruins. The air was thick with the stench of smoke and death, a grim testament to the ferocity of the Beastmen horde. His heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the silence of the ravaged cityscape.And Gazelle was nowhere to be found.A cold fury, sharp and consuming, ignited wi
Swoosh!A blur of feathered death whizzed past his ear, the wind from its passage ruffling the prince's hair. The dense fog, a suffocating blanket of grey, swallowed the arrow's trajectory, making it even harder for Lance to anticipate the next attack. Prince Drakan, a cunning strategist, had deliberately chosen this city as the battleground, a labyrinth of twisting streets and shrouded alleyways, designed to cripple Lance's greatest strength: his army. Drakan knew the legendary warrior's prowess on the battlefield, his ability to command troops with an almost supernatural instinct. Even Drakan, a prince renowned for his own martial skill, wouldn't dare face Lance and his legions in the open. This fog-choked city was his weapon, a tool to isolate and break the warrior, to force him to rely on his own strength alone.Lance pressed on, his boots crunching on the damp cobblestones. He had unleashed every light element skill at his disposal, each one met with an impenetrable wall of g
"The eighth circle," Prince Drakan rasped, his voice a grating echo of its former grandeur, "I attained it before I'd even tasted the sweetness of two decades. Yet, the ninth stage, the pinnacle of power, remained tantalizingly out of reach. Fifty years I toiled, clawing my way through the celestial labyrinth, only to find myself forever tethered to this desolate plane. A cruel jest, wouldn't you say?"His laughter, a hollow, mirthless sound, reverberated through the chamber, bouncing off the cold, obsidian walls. "The heavens, they are not merciful, you see. They bestowed upon your father the gift of the spirit body, a shimmering beacon of divine favour. But for me, they offered only this…this prison."He gestured around them, his eyes burning with a cold, bitter fire. "They delivered you to my doorstep, a fragile offering, a pawn in a game far grander than you can comprehend. And your father," Drakan's voice dropped to a menacing whisper, "he will pay the price for your demise. He w