Black Hearted Mage

Chapter 372: War of Annihilation 4

"Bone Castle has been completely destroyed! The war fortress that stood for a thousand years is now nothing but a pile of smoking ruins!"

"The Valkyrie of the Roland Empire has been resurrected! Someone saw her walk out of the flames of the Bone Castle, her dark red leather armor shining as brightly as ever!"

"The Bloody Rose Flag once again flies over the battlefield! Wherever that blood-stained banner goes, the enemy flees!"

This appalling news exploded like thunder over Saint Laurent City. Inside the palace hall, the royal family members, gathered in session, dropped their scepters upon hearing the servants' trembling reports. The nobles paled, and some of the more timid ones even fainted. They all knew what the "Imperial Valkyrie" signified, and even more so, the terror embodied by the "Blood Rose" banner.

However, the Saint Laurent Church's reaction was even more dramatic than that of Saint Laurent's royal family and nobility. When the news reached the church, the archbishop, who was presiding over morning prayers, collapsed before the altar. The priests were in a state of disarray, some frantically searching for ancient books, while others began packing their belongings and preparing to flee. In the church's library and the Royal Archives, trembling hands unrolled the long-sealed parchment scrolls, each containing a terrifying legend about the Valkyrie:

"Anyone who threatens the Roland Empire will be met with thunderous wrath and bloodbath. Few can escape her sword, unless they hide in hiding and live out their days in remote villages!"

Most chilling of all were the texts that chronicled events from eight thousand years ago. Back then, the Roland Empire, a unified continent, was a land of churches teeming with believers. But at the Valkyrie's command, thousands of churches were razed to the ground within a single month. Historical records record a new guillotine erected daily, the blood of clergymen dyed every moat red, and the cries of agony raged for thirty days and nights. This deliberately buried history has now resurfaced with the Valkyrie's resurrection.

"Vivian Barton has been dead for over seven thousand years. How could she possibly be resurrected?!"

Inside the Holy City Cathedral's secret chamber, High Priest Floyd suddenly slammed the table, knocking over the crystal goblet on the table and spilling scarlet wine onto the parchment scroll like blood. His expression shifted, and his fingers unconsciously stroked the Holy Symbol of Judgment on his chest, as if that would calm him down.

Originally, his entire focus had been on vying for the papacy—but now, this news was like a sharp sword, piercing through all his plans. If the legendary Imperial Valkyrie truly returned, the so-called papal throne would likely become a death warrant in the blink of an eye.

The problem was that the fight for the papacy was far more difficult and bloody than he had imagined. As the High Priest of the Judgment Hall, Floyd had believed that his power of judgment would be enough to intimidate opponents within the Church. However, reality dealt him a harsh blow—in just a few short years, he had already faced more than a dozen assassination attempts. Poisoned wine, curses, assassins' daggers...each one nearly cost him his life. Even more alarming was the fact that the forces behind these assassinations didn't seem solely the work of the Cardinal.

The waters of the Saint Laurent Church were deeper than he had imagined.

The ascetics remained silent, refusing to voice their support for him, instead standing firmly behind the Cardinal. Worse still, even the Judgment Hall, which he single-handedly controlled, was beginning to show cracks—several Grand Masters were beginning to waver, and some were even openly siding with the Cardinal. Floyd could feel his power slipping away, like sand in a fist; the harder he squeezed, the faster it slipped away.

And now, rumors of the Valkyrie's resurrection have him on pins and needles. If the news is true... then the church will probably face more than just a power struggle, but a catastrophic disaster.

"High Priest, the photo of the Valkyrie has arrived!"

The heavy oak door was flung open, its metal hinges scraping with a sharp, grinding sound. A figure in dark brown leather armor knelt on one knee, holding a photo stone that emitted a faint blue light. His armor was stained with dust, clearly having come at a rapid speed.

High Priest Floyd slowly raised his wrinkled hand and took the warm Philosopher's Stone. With steady and precise movements, he placed the Stone in the center of the bronze projection device. The moment the Magic Crystal was inserted into the slot, the device emitted a low humming sound, and a dazzling light spread across the chamber's walls, forming a circular light curtain approximately two meters in diameter.

A clear image gradually emerged from the light curtain: a woman clad in dark red magic-patterned leather armor stood proudly, the blood-red rose flag fluttering behind her in the wind. Further away, the Roland Empire's legions lined up in neat formations, their silver armor gleaming coldly in the sunlight.

Floyd's trembling fingers adjusted the image's clarity. He turned and pulled out a yellowed magical painting from a jeweled wooden box. The gold thread around the edge had faded. The old man compared the painting with the image on the screen, and his cloudy eyes suddenly widened.

"The magic patterns on this leather armor..." His voice was hoarse and trembling, "Every single pattern is exactly right. And this long golden hair, even the curvature of the hair ends..." His eyes shifted to the two swords at the waist of the figure in the image, "Even the curvature of these two short swords is..."

A drop of sweat trickled down the High Priest's furrowed forehead. The stern face in the image, the slightly upturned corners of his mouth, even the look of disdain between his brows, were all identical to the Valkyrie in the magical portrait.

"Pullman..." Floyd's voice suddenly became weak. He turned to the thin confidant beside him and said, "In your opinion... could they be the same person?"

Pullman clenched his fist against his chest, his leather glove clanging against his breastplate. "High Priest, please forgive my frankness," he said in a low, firm voice. "Across the entire Roland Empire, and indeed the entire continent, what lunatic would dare to openly challenge the Bloody Rose?" He took a step forward, his armor clanging. "Ten years ago, my spies in Roland reported that unusual magical fluctuations had been detected at the Valkyrie's cemetery. However..." He paused, "That mausoleum is far too dangerous. Even the great magicians dare not delve into it."

Pullman's eyes flashed with enthusiasm as he recalled the long-forgotten secret reports and the various visions he had experienced about the Tomb of the Valkyries more than twenty years ago. At this moment, all the clues connected in his mind.

"Sir," he said, his voice trembling slightly with excitement, "I guarantee with my life that the Valkyrie has truly been resurrected!"

Hearing Pullman's answer, Floyd's skinny fingers unconsciously stroked the ruby ​​on the top of the scepter, his turbid eyes narrowed slightly, and he fell into a long silence.

The flickering candlelight in the secret room twisted and stretched his shadow, elongating it like the chaotic thoughts in his mind. The wealth he had accumulated over his lifetime was enough to buy a small city, and he could even give up the position of Pope. But if the legendary Valkyrie truly returned, all the power and wealth would be nothing but a passing cloud. He was old, his youthful ambition long gone, and now he simply wanted to survive.

"Pullman..." His voice was hoarse, as if it had been rubbed with sandpaper. "Where... can we escape to survive?" He slowly raised his head, a rare hint of panic in his eyes. "If she really is back, with her methods... the entire Saint Laurent Church will wail under her butcher knife!"

Pullman was silent for a moment, then spoke in a deep voice, "The Roland Empire." His tone was firm, "It's the only safest place." He stepped forward and continued in a low voice, "With the Valkyrie's thunderous power, the Roland Empire will surely unify the continent once again. All kingdoms will either submit or be crushed by her iron hooves. If we want to survive, we must change our names and hide in her camp before she settles the score."

His eyes were cold, and his fingers unconsciously pressed against the hilt of the sword at his waist. As a high-ranking warrior of the Church of Saint Laurent, Pullman was well aware that he, too, was on the Valkyrie's reckoning. But now, perhaps there was still time... to find shelter before the storm arrived.

When Caesars pushed open the heavy oak door of the side fort, the midday sun was blazing down on the battlefield. Nearly half an hour had passed since the battle ended, and the air still stank of smoke and blood. Soldiers bent over scattered weapons, rummaging through the spoils, the clink of metal echoing from time to time. A quartermaster, a parchment scroll in hand, meticulously recorded the confiscated supplies—according to Roland Empire military regulations, all gold and silver items were to be turned over to the treasury.

In the shadows at the edge of the command battlefield, several piles of sorted magic crystals shimmered. These precious spoils were strictly divided into three parts: the largest portion belonged to the military magician group, another belonged to Caesars, and the smallest but purest pile belonged to Vivian, who stood quietly at the ruins.

The mage warrior, clad in dark crimson leather armor, gazed into the distance, her blood-red cape fluttering gently in the wind. As a rare ice-based mage among the Wind Warriors, Vivian hadn't yet engaged in this battle with her full might, but Caesars knew her strength was on par with Orcus. This assessment was not groundless—Vivian had grown up near the Frostcrown Mage Tower, one of the magical sanctuaries of the Arcane Elves.

At the age of six, Vivian settled with her mother in a stone house beneath the shadow of the Magic Tower. Despite her mediocre innate magical talent, Caesars's ancestor, the legendary archmage, took a liking to this stubborn little girl. He specially designed a unique magical immersion array for her, bathing Vivian in magical energy day after day. After more than a decade of training, her once mediocre magical affinity was forcibly elevated to an astonishing level.

Today, Vivian's left hand can instantly unleash a twenty-meter-wide "Frost Nova," while her right sword can unleash powerful control techniques like "Rapid Freeze." Thousands of years ago, during a battle in the North, she single-handedly froze an entire heavy cavalry regiment's charge, buying them precious time to regroup.

"Ms. Vivian, it seems our mission objectives overlap!"

Caesars narrowed his dark eyes slightly, his fingers unconsciously stroking the dagger at his waist. He recalled the ancient tome of the Magic Tower, and the deeds of this lady recorded on those yellowed pages forced him to re-evaluate the petite figure before him.

Vivian turned upon hearing this, her red cloak rustling in the cold wind. A few strands of golden hair escaped from the hood, glistening coldly in the sunlight. "It is indeed overlapping," her voice was as clear as the clash of ice crystals. "But none of this matters now." Her slender fingers reached under her leather armor and pulled out a gemstone gleaming with a faint blue light. "I need to store sufficient soul energy. It's the key to advancement!"

The gem slowly spun in her palm, as if liquid starlight flowed within it, sometimes condensing into a face of pain, sometimes dispersing into tiny starlight. Caesars unconsciously took a half step back, his very soul trembling. "This...this is also a Soul Gem?" His voice was slightly hoarse with shock.

"No!" Vivian's lips curled up into a meaningful smile. "This is the magic core of the Abyssal Brain Eater, and it's just a tiny, insignificant piece. The piece you got is just a fragment of the larva's magic core." She put the gem back into her leather armor, and the faint blue light was immediately swallowed by the dark red leather armor. "But you can rest assured. The teacher has always been generous. The reward he bestows on you will definitely far exceed your imagination."

She glanced over Caesar's shoulder, toward the crumbling Bone Castle in the distance. The smoke from the battlefield was clearing, and Roland's Legion soldiers moved through the ruins like ants, gathering spoils and the remains of their comrades. This battle had been won too easily, with minimal losses—most of the casualties were a few unlucky souls caught in the falling rocks.

Caesars followed her gaze, his mind racing to the treasures of his ancestors' treasury. But then he shook his head in self-mockery, a wry smile playing on his lips. The Demon Realm was no benevolent place; the very air was enough to suffocate. He'd heard that even the strongest warriors, upon arriving in the Demon Realm, were forced to enter a slumber lasting hundreds of years, allowing their bodies to slowly adapt to the more powerful laws of nature.

The laws of the demonic realm are incredibly powerful, their repressive force far surpassing that of Roland Continent. If one were to compare Roland Continent's strongest individual—the elven elder who reached level 28—this level of strength would be merely basic in the demonic realm. Demonic races naturally possess level 28 power upon reaching adulthood, and this is merely the starting point of their cultivation.

"Madam, you must know another student of our ancestor, right?" Caesars suddenly broke the silence, with a hint of inquiry in his voice.

Upon hearing this, Vivian's fingertips lightly brushed the dagger at her waist, a meaningful smile playing on her lips. "Of course I know. That's the current monarch of the Dwarf Kingdom—Queen Freya. With her protection in the Demon Realm, we still have a glimmer of hope. Otherwise..." She paused, a solemn look flashing in her eyes. "With my current strength, I'm afraid I wouldn't even be able to contend with the most basic laws of the Demon Realm, let alone survive a single day."

Kaisas nodded thoughtfully, then asked, "Aren't we going to the Abyss Plane?"

"The Abyssal Plane!" Vivian's laughter, like a silver bell, echoed through the air, as if she had heard some ridiculous joke, but the smile never reached her eyes. "Kassus, over there, even the most insignificant demon bug could easily kill us!"