Death Knight Chronicles

page views:1 Publication date:2022-09-28

Thick clouds blocked the scorching sun, casting shadows across the land. Yet, not a breath of wind stirred in the fields, the stifling heat making one feel restless. This was the western border of the Erathian Empire. A light carriage sped along the bumpy road, driven by a young man with short, grayish-brown hair that fell loosely over his forehead, obscuring the upper half of his face, but his eyes, peeking through, were incredibly sharp. He wore a rough cloth robe, yet it was well-tailored and fit him exceptionally well. At this moment, the man's lips were tightly pressed together, sweat pouring down his face, but he paid no attention to wiping it away, only relentlessly whipping the carriage, urging it to move at breakneck speed. "Jem, can't you slow the carriage down a bit?" A soft, gentle voice came from inside the carriage, tinged with a hint of pain. “Miss, I know you’re exhausted. But we can’t slow down. If those guys catch up, it’ll be hard to escape.” The man replied without turning his head, his grip on the reins tight. “If we travel for another day, we’ll be deep into Erathia. Once we enter a heavily guarded city, those guys won’t dare to chase us anymore.” A silence fell over the carriage, broken only by a soft sigh. The driver glanced back slightly, a look of pity on his face, but ultimately turned back resolutely. Looking ahead, his expression suddenly changed, and he whispered, “Miss, be careful.” A slightly panicked voice came from inside the carriage: “Have they caught up?” “It must be them. Let’s rush past.” The man replied in a deep voice, his eyes fixed intently on the road ahead. A row of figures stood haphazardly in front of them, their movements stiff and their shapes strange from a distance. As the carriage drew closer, the man’s eyes narrowed, and the figures gradually became clearer. Their tattered clothes hung haphazardly on their bodies, revealing ashen skin through the gaps, with many festering wounds visible. Their facial muscles were similarly rotting, their faces expressionless, but their wide-open eyes gleamed with a chilling red light, reflecting off the sharp blades they held with a faint crimson glow. "It's a horde of zombies, more than thirty of them, some of whom seem to be high-ranking zombie soldiers." The man's voice was tense as he gripped the reins with one hand and released the whip with the other, picking up a longsword from the side. The carriage curtain was slightly lifted, revealing a pair of bright eyes that flashed behind it. "There are too many of them; I'm afraid we won't be able to get through." The carriage was now approaching the horde of zombies, and several of them had slowly stepped forward to meet them, seemingly attempting to block the speeding carriage. The man's grip on his sword tightened, cold sweat beading on his palms. The speeding carriage was no match for human power, yet those before it were no ordinary beings; who knew the strength hidden within their battered bodies? Just as the carriage was about to collide with the horde of zombies, several of the approaching zombies raised their blades. A massive ball of fire suddenly fell from the sky, engulfing the zombies in flames with a deafening roar. The neighing of horses and their mournful howls rang out simultaneously, and the carriage roared through the flames, slamming several engulfed bodies far away into the horde behind. "Kill!" the man roared, swinging his longsword fiercely to both sides of the carriage. The sensation of the blade cutting through flesh and bone was palpable, and severed limbs flew before his eyes. He had cut down countless zombies; his clothes were soaked with sweat, and his arms were slightly sore. Two zombies climbed onto the carriage seat as his sword-wielding slowed. A soft beam of light shone through the carriage curtain, enveloping the man's body. A surge of power welled up within him, and his fatigue seemed to vanish instantly. With a sharp shout, the man rose from his seat, kicking the zombie on his left away. The hilt of his longsword slammed heavily into the face of another zombie, sending it tumbling off the carriage. A sharp pain shot through his right foot; a short knife had left a deep wound. The man grinned, his longsword flashing, and a gruesome head flew off at an angle. With a flick of the reins, the horse pulling the carriage neighed, and the carriage finally surged past the horde of zombies, quickly leaving them far behind. The man cheered, "Miss, we've made it!" But as soon as he finished speaking, his gaze swept ahead, and his smile froze on his face. The weather remained stiflingly hot, yet the man, still reeling from the fierce battle, felt a chill run through him. Not far ahead, ten emaciated, strange figures, clad in brocade robes, stood in neat rows. Their claw-like hands were slightly raised in front of their chests, and two sharp fangs protruded from their lips, making them exceptionally terrifying. Although there were only ten enemies, the man lost his courage to advance, pulled back the reins, and brought the carriage to a stop. "Miss, there are ten vampire kings ahead, and it seems there are also..." the man whispered to the lady in the carriage, his eyes fixed nervously ahead. A tall, dark figure appeared behind the ten strange figures, slowly emerging from the crowd. The man groaned, "A death knight." Clad in pure black armor, he sat astride a tall, equally pure black horse. Enveloped in the dark aura of death, both man and horse seemed to have emerged from hell. This was the death knight, hailed as the strongest unit of the undead race, whose power was comparable to the paladins of the Erathian Empire's paladin legion. In the tens of thousands of years of war between the various races of the continent, the races of both the upper and lower realms developed remarkably similar and complete military systems. Each race divided its regular combat troops into six levels based on combat strength. Among the human race, ordinary trained soldiers were only in the first level. Only heavy cavalry trained with special anti-magic and combat skills could be granted the title of Paladin and incorporated into the Paladin Legion. This legion, numbering only a few thousand, constituted the sixth level of combat power of the Erathian Empire, its most elite force. It is said that if the souls of Paladins who died in battle were imprisoned by powerful necromancers, and after countless ages, unable to find release, their holy souls would transform into vengeful spirits. Then, a sorcerer would grant them immortal bodies, transforming them into incredibly powerful Death Knights, whose power seemed to surpass even that of Paladins. These equally few Death Knights formed the sixth level of combat power of the undead race. Just now, it took a tremendous amount of effort to break through the blockade of more than thirty zombies. But now, there were ten vampire kings with fourth-level strength and one death knight with sixth-level strength. In this situation of overwhelming numbers, their power was probably more terrifying than three hundred zombies with second-level strength combined. The man driving the carriage understood this deeply, and his heart was filled with despair. A soft sigh came from the carriage: "I saw it, Jem, you'd better run. Their target is me. If you run now, maybe they won't chase you." Hearing the young lady's words, the man gritted his teeth and puffed out his chest: "Miss, don't say that. In this situation, I would never abandon you to save my own life. Besides, the opponent is the Vampire King; I certainly can't escape." There was no sound in the carriage. The man gripped his longsword tightly and said in a firm voice: "There's no other choice now. Miss, get ready. As soon as I charge out, cast spells, use as many as you can." "I'm out of magic." The man, who was about to move, froze upon hearing this: "What?" "I've been using magic non-stop these past few days without any rest. My magic power has been constantly depleting. Those two spells just now have exhausted my magic power." The fighting spirit he had just mustered seemed to vanish without a trace. The man slumped onto his throne, his lifeless eyes staring blankly at the slowly moving enemy. The black spirit horse strode forward, followed lightly by ten vampire kings, proceeding unhurriedly towards the carriage. The enemy was clearly confident in their overwhelming advantage. The air in the wilderness seemed to freeze, with only the dull thud of hooves striking the ground. To the man, each thud felt like a blow to his heart. Unable to endure the pressure any longer, the man let out a beastly howl, leaping madly from the carriage and charging towards the slowly approaching death knight. The dark visor concealed the death knight's face, making it impossible to see his features. However, as the man approached the horse, the knight's head twitched slightly. A long, thick, slightly curved saber suddenly appeared in the knight's hand, brought down on the charging man's head. The sharp wind from the blade parted his short hair to the sides, and the man felt a suffocating force pressing down on him. His warrior instincts kicked in, and he quickly ducked, raising his longsword with all his might. A deafening clang rang out as the man's longsword shattered into countless fragments, the impact sending him flying backward like a kite with a broken string. He landed heavily on the ground several feet away with a thud. A ghostly figure flashed, and several withered, sharp claws reached out towards the man. Meanwhile, a vampire king leaped onto the carriage seat and reached for the curtain. "Hiss..." The curtain was torn open.The vampire king who had attacked suddenly let out a ghostly howl, his withered body tumbling from the carriage seat and collapsing to the ground, motionless. At the same time, the man felt a powerful force lift him up, and in a flash, he was sitting safely in the carriage. Several more equally agonizing screams came from where he had fallen, and four more vampire kings collapsed to the ground. Looking around in astonishment, he saw a figure shrouded in a silver-gray cloak standing proudly beside the carriage, one foot planted on a fallen vampire king, a large bow gleaming with a dark gold light in his hand. Seemingly surprised, the black horse beneath the death knight halted, and the surviving vampire kings stared intently at this uninvited guest with bloodshot eyes. "I never expected to encounter such undead monsters so soon after entering the borders of Erathia. It seems you're just unlucky." A clear, booming voice rang out, and the person casually tossed his cloak onto the carriage. The man's eyes lit up. The first thing that catches the eye is a head of long, bright orange hair, casually draped over his shoulders. His tall, slender frame is accentuated by a cloak-colored outfit that clearly shows his broad shoulders, narrow back, and slender waist. His face, smooth and refined like marble, is sharply defined: pointed, elongated ears, a high-bridged nose, and a haughty, cold smile playing at the corners of his mouth. Most striking are his eyes—sharp, calm, like an eagle searching for its prey. A quiver is slung across his back, and he grips a large bow in one hand. Though he moves nothing, he exudes a powerful, dynamic aura, like an arrow released from a bow. "An elf." The driver gasped, speechless, overwhelmed by the man's imposing presence. The death knight opposite him seemed momentarily stunned, but instantly raised his longsword, and his black horse galloped towards them. Behind him, five vampire kings transformed into five large, gray-black bats, screeching and darting after the horse. A cold laugh rang out; the elf moved, but his arm twitched. The screeching from the opposite side transformed into mournful cries, accompanied by deafening clanging sounds. The man's gaze swept across the scene, seeing bats falling limply to the ground like birds with broken wings. The death knight brandished his longsword, but his black horse halted its advance, instead retreating step by step. A sharp gust of wind swept by, and a vampire king appeared to the elf's right. Leaping into the air, its two demonic claws viciously clawed at the elf's chest and abdomen, its massive jaws snapping at the side of his neck. Before the man could even cry out in alarm, the elf stretched out his right hand, thrusting a long arrow into the vampire king's open maw, pinning it firmly to the ground with a soft thud. In that short time, all four bats opposite him had fallen to the ground, and the man could finally see clearly. The death knight was deflecting arrows with his sword. The slender arrows seemed to possess immense power; with each arrow blocked, the black horse riding the death knight was forced back several steps. In this short time, although the death knight had blocked no fewer than ten arrows, he was still struck by three. Wisps of black energy emerged from the arrow wounds, and the man noticed that the knight's armor was slowly caved inward. "Hah!" A sharp shout came from the elf's mouth, and the death knight's longsword flew from his hand with a resounding clang, an arrow piercing his visor at the same time. With a hiss, the death knight's body trembled violently, and countless wisps of black energy suddenly emerged from his armor, vanishing in an instant. An empty suit of armor clattered to the ground, and the black horse disappeared in a flash. The elf sheathed her greatbow, glanced at the dumbfounded man beside her, and smiled slightly: "It's over. Are you alright?" Snapping out of his daze, the man shook his head blankly. Suddenly, as if sensing something, he hurriedly called into the carriage: "Miss, are you alright?" A woman's low voice came from inside the carriage: "I'm fine." After a slight pause, the woman's voice rose slightly: "I must thank you for saving us, sir." "Ah!" the man exclaimed, bowing to the elf. "Sir saved my and your life; I forgot to thank you. May I ask your name?" "My name is Gru," the elf replied calmly, picking up a cloak from the carriage and draping it over herself. "There's something I don't quite understand. How did you end up being chased by the undead army?" "This…" The name "Gru" sounded very familiar. The man thought carefully, but couldn't recall where he had heard it before. Hearing the question, he hesitated and looked into the carriage. “We met them on the road. I don’t understand why they were chasing us. Maybe it was just a chance encounter.” “Is that so?” Gru’s eyes flickered upon hearing the woman’s reply. “They dispatched a Death Knight and ten Vampire Kings. This is a serious matter for the undead. Was it really just a chance encounter?” Silence fell over the carriage. Gru glanced at the slightly uneasy man beside him, then suddenly reached out and lifted the curtain. A gasp escaped Gru’s lips as his sharp gaze swept across the carriage and landed on the girl leaning against the soft seat. A simple long dress clung to her petite and slender body, and her light brown hair was disheveled and scattered across her pale face. Her eyes, which seemed a little too large for her thin face, were now wide open. Her gaze was clear as water, filled with fear as she stared at the person who had lifted the curtain. Yet, her expression also carried an indescribable air of noble elegance. At first glance, this girl possessed a unique and captivating charm. However, Gru's gaze only swept over her briefly before settling on her left shoulder. Her clothes there appeared to be torn, revealing a wound wrapped in cloth, from which blood was still slightly seeping. Blue blood. "Blood of the gods..." Gru's slightly surprised gaze returned to the girl's face. This time, the panic on her pink face had faded, replaced by an indescribable elegance and solemnity. "Is this how the renowned Elf King Gru treats a woman in distress?" Before Gru could answer, the man beside him exclaimed, "Ah...you are the Elf King Gru! I, I've heard your legend. Heh, truly..." He couldn't finish his sentence, his face filled with excitement. “Gru is just a brave man, doing whatever comes to mind. Naturally, he can't compare to the humble and polite messengers of the Gods.” Gru waved to the man beside him and stepped into the carriage. “But Miss, as a messenger of the Gods, how did you end up in such a sorry state?” Among the three races of the Upper Realm, the Gods, who loyally serve the Heavenly Gods and are known as messengers of the Gods, are considered the noblest race. The biggest reason for this is that the people of the Gods have blue blood flowing in their veins, representing nobility. Legend has it that only the offspring of Heavenly Gods have blue blood. Furthermore, the people of the Gods seem to possess innate high intelligence and a sensitivity to the sky magic, which is said to be the power of the Heavenly Gods. Every member of the race is an excellent mage. The Elf race, who worship the Earth Mother Goddess, has never had a good impression of the Gods, who claim to be descendants of the Heavenly Gods. Although there was no hostility, Gru's words still carried a hint of sarcasm. Hearing Gru's words, a complex expression flashed across the girl's face. Seeing the other person step into the carriage, she involuntarily straightened up, as if about to do something. Gru pressed down on her body with one hand and said, "Miss, you'd better not move. I know your divine race's constitution very well; you're all like delicate young ladies." He chuckled, "Besides, you are a delicate young lady yourself." Her attempt to get up was blocked, and the girl could only lie back down. Gru's long, slender, white hands gently pulled open the tear in her clothes a little more, pressing lightly on the wound. "Ugh…" The girl's body trembled, but she kept her lips tightly closed, only letting out a soft moan. Gru glanced at her pale, pained face, then raised his voice slightly and called out to the outside of the carriage, "Young man, listen carefully. Your young lady's injuries are quite serious. I'm going to treat her now. If she cries out in pain, just rest outside and don't worry about her." Hearing the man's reply from outside the carriage, Gru turned around, meeting the girl's questioning gaze. Suddenly, as if remembering something, a hint of shyness appeared in her eyes. Gru smiled slightly at the girl, and with a soft "ripping" sound, the girl's thin blouse was torn open, revealing her fair and delicate skin. Even though she had expected this, the girl still couldn't help but tremble. Seeing that he was only focused on examining her wound, she felt slightly relieved and turned her face to the side, a blush spreading across her cheeks. With her blouse open, the girl's beautifully curved upper body was immediately revealed. Her chest rose and fell with her rapid breathing, and on her small, delicate breasts, two pink nipples trembled softly. Her slender waist and flat abdomen were free of any excess fat, only snow-white, supple, and fragrant skin. However, a long wound on her left shoulder extended to her chest, and several fine scratches marred her right ribs. The skin beneath the wounds had a pale, deathly gray hue.It was a horrifying sight. "Were you scratched by a zombie?" Unmoved by the beauty before him, Gru asked calmly after carefully examining the wound. "Yes…," the girl's face was still flushed, her voice tinged with shyness, "I've already used healing magic on the wound, but it doesn't seem to be working." "With zombie poison, healing magic won't be effective." Gru slowly took out a small dagger. "If you're strong, you can slowly force the zombie poison out, but your constitution is too weak; you can only use bloodletting to remove the poison." Unexpectedly, the girl glanced at the gleaming dagger, simply nodding, showing no fear whatsoever. A hint of approval flashed in Gru's eyes as he brought the dagger closer to the ashen skin. "Ah…" The sharp blade sliced through the necrotic muscle; despite being mentally prepared, the girl still couldn't bear the intense pain and cried out. Through the gap in the carriage curtain, the man outside could be seen glancing briefly at the carriage before quietly turning away. Realizing she was currently naked from the waist up, the girl understood the meaning of Gru's earlier greeting and felt a surge of gratitude. Watching the blue blood gushing from the wound, tinged with a dark gray, Gru silently pressed against the skin near the wound, squeezing it slightly. Her body, never before touched by a man, was suddenly touched by a pair of large hands. Even amidst the intense pain, the girl felt a strange sensation, a surge of heat throughout her body. Turning her head slightly to look at Gru, she suddenly noticed that his eyes were closed, his expression solemn. At the same time, the hands on the wound began to slowly move along it, a cool sensation seeping into her body, bringing an indescribable comfort. "Mmm…" she couldn't help but moan softly, then startled by her own voice, quickly closing her lips tightly. However, the large hands that felt so incredibly comfortable gradually moved from her shoulders to her chest. The gentle touch on her sensitive areas made the girl feel a blissful sensation, as if she were floating on clouds. She slowly closed her eyes, and everything around her seemed unreal, like a dream. A soft moan escaped from inside the carriage, but it didn't seem to be from pain, puzzling the man outside. "Alright!" A low shout rang in her ears, instantly snapping the girl out of her daze. Seeing Gru kneeling before her, looking at her with a half-smile, her pretty face flushed crimson. She sat up abruptly, frantically trying to straighten her clothes, only to find that her torn garments had been covered. She also realized that she could no longer feel any pain from her injuries. Seeing the girl's flustered and beautifully flushed face, Gru couldn't help but smile. "Miss, your injuries are fine now, but it would be best to change your clothes. Hmm, I'll get off now." With that, Gru pulled back the carriage curtain, and without any apparent movement, he leaped out of the carriage and landed on the ground. Watching the other person leap out of the carriage without a second glance, the girl felt a vague, indescribable sense of loss. She stared blankly at the falling curtain for a long time before lazily taking her clothes from under the seat. Walking to the man sitting quietly not far away, the moment Gru stopped, the driver hurriedly stood up, looking at the elf who was a head taller than him with slight unease. "Your name is Jem, right?" Gru casually sat down on the ground, patting the ground beside him. "Yes, my name is Jem." Sitting awkwardly beside Gru, Jem answered softly, "I've heard your name before, sir. I never imagined you would be the one to save me and the young lady." "You wield your sword well. I don't think you're from the gods, are you?" Looking at the excited expression on the still-childish face, Gru simply nodded. He had seen far too much of this kind of admiration for heroes. "I...I'm not from the Celestial Race," Jem stammered. "Actually, I'm an Imperial trainee...swordsman." He spoke the word "trainee" very softly, but seeing the look of realization on Gru's face, Jem couldn't help but blush. The Erathian Empire's military system had its own reserve units for each rank. For example, heavy cavalry, although part of the regular army and trained by paladins, couldn't be incorporated into the paladin legion until they received formal paladin certification. The swordsman Jem mentioned was a fourth-rank Crusader reserve. Swordsmen who received the same swordsmanship training as the Crusaders were considered very skilled. However, a "trainee swordsman" was someone who had just begun swordsmanship training and hadn't yet been formally incorporated into the swordsman's corps. "Since you're an Imperial trainee swordsman, how come you were being chased by the undead with that young lady inside?" Gru's voice was slightly confused. Indeed, there was no reason for a Celestial Race envoy and a lowly soldier from the Erathian Empire to be together. If the girl inside the carriage was a VIP of the Empire, then the task of protecting her wouldn't be entrusted to a mere apprentice swordsman. "Well, as far back as I can remember, Miss has always lived in our village. For over a decade, she's been incredibly kind to everyone there. However, this time when I went home to visit relatives, I encountered a group of zombies trying to capture Miss. My swordsmanship isn't quite there yet, but Miss is such a kind person, I couldn't let her be captured by zombies. So, we fled all the way from the village to here." "Hmm…" Gru glanced at the carriage, his doubts deepening. The people of the Divine Race are always proud and rarely leave their home in the icy highlands of northern Erathia unless absolutely necessary. Yet this girl has lived in a human village for at least a decade—it's truly unbelievable. Just then, the carriage curtain opened, and the girl, now dressed in a light blue dress, gracefully jumped down and walked towards the two who were talking. Her previously disheveled hair was now neatly draped over her shoulders, and her pale face was still flushed, making her even more beautiful. Two bright, watery eyes kept looking at Gru, but when their eyes met, they immediately looked away. The young woman bowed deeply before Gru, saying, "Your Majesty Gru's kindness is beyond measure." Gru helped her up, saying, "Miss, there's no need for such formality. We belong to the three races of the Upper Realm, though we have little interaction. I couldn't bear to see you bullied by the monsters of the undead." The young woman rose and sat down beside him, bowing slightly, and said softly, "My name is Shuri, Your Majesty can call me Shuri." "Shuri," Gru responded, then continued, "A nice name. But I only want to know, how did you leave the Ice and Snow Plateau, live in a village in the Erathian Empire for so many years, and then be hunted by the undead?" He paused, noticing Shuri's troubled glance at Jem beside her, and added, "Regarding this, if you find it difficult, you don't have to answer. However, the undead have dispatched Death Knights for you. Although they failed this time, it's clear they won't give up. I just want to see how I can help." Seeing Shuri lower her head in deep thought, Jem hurriedly said, "Miss, His Majesty Gru is right. If a few more Death Knights come, we simply can't handle them with our strength." Shuri shook her head and said to Gru, "I understand His Majesty's good intentions, but I'm not entirely clear about this matter myself. So, I can't explain it. As for why I'm living in seclusion within the Empire, that's my private matter, and I think it has nothing to do with this." Gru stared intently at Shuri for a long time, then sighed and stood up. "Since you won't say, Shuri, I naturally won't force you. However, I have urgent business to attend to back at. How about this, I'll escort you to a nearby major city, but that's not safe either. It would be best to notify your people on the Ice Plains, or find an army to escort you back to the Ice and Snow Plateau. That's where the power of the undead cannot reach." Jem, standing beside her, quickly stood up as well, about to speak. But Xiu Li shook her head, saying, "No, I can't go back to the Ice and Snow Plateau. I won't inform them." Jem was stunned, staring blankly at Xiu Li, speechless. However, Gru's gaze quickly swept across Xiu Li's face, catching a fleeting glimpse of hatred deep in her large eyes. Slightly surprised by her reaction, Gru frowned and said, "If that's the case, I can't guarantee your safety." Xiu Li rose gracefully and said softly, "Your Majesty saved my life today, and I am deeply grateful. We dare not delay Your Majesty's journey. If Your Majesty has any urgent business, please continue on your way. If the undead come again, we will naturally deal with them." Her gentle voice carried a resolute meaning. Gru didn't speak again, giving her a deep look before turning away. "Your Majesty, Your Majesty, please wait!" Jem rushed over anxiously, grabbing Gru and crying, "If Miss doesn't want to go back, then she has nowhere to go. Just like you said, the undead have already deployed death knights. Unless we receive protection from the Imperial Family, ordinary troops simply cannot protect us. If you don't do anything, Miss will definitely be captured!" Gru slowly stopped, looking at Shuri standing alone behind him, a feeling of pity rising in his heart. However...He had stopped his ten-year arduous training due to a vague unease he had recently felt, and was eager to return to the Guardian's Forest. He simply couldn't afford to delay them. Besides, this woman harbored many secrets she refused to reveal, making it impossible for him to help her. Seeing Gru shake his head, Jem quickly interjected, "Your Majesty, if you have urgent business... well, how about this? Since Miss has nowhere else to go, why don't we travel with Your Majesty? Once we reach the Elven territory, we should be safe. Right, Miss?" Hearing Jem's suggestion, Shuri glanced at Gru, only to see him seemingly deep in thought. She then quietly lowered her head, remaining silent. “Five Phantom Archers have already been sent back, and with the High Priest also present, nothing should go wrong. This woman is no ordinary person; taking her back to Sodenis might uncover her secrets.” “Alright,” after a moment of contemplation, Gru suddenly spoke up, “We’re still quite a distance from here to the Guardian’s Jungle. A carriage will be slower, but ten days should be enough. Let’s set off now.” Jem cheered and ran towards the carriage. Seeing that Shuri was still standing still, he gently nudged her from behind, “Miss, that’s enough. Get in the carriage, we need to get going.” Shuri moved, finally giving Gru a silent bow before returning to the carriage. The carriage slowly started moving, heading towards the Guardian’s Jungle. Gazing ahead, Gru silently murmured, “Jane, it seems we won’t see each other for another ten days.” The unease that had plagued him for days surged through his mind again, stronger than ever before.(III) In the empty hall, five "Phantom Archers" dressed in green knelt silently on the ground. Gru sat high above, his face ashen. He had received several earth-shattering pieces of bad news upon returning to Sodanesra, yet Gru remained surprisingly calm. After visiting the critically injured High Priest Deming, he summoned several "Phantom Archers" to the hall. "So, the High Priest was injured by Sandru, and the Queen went with him, is that right?" Gru coldly looked at his kneeling subordinates, his expression calm, but his gaze chillingly menacing. “Yes,” the first “Phantom Archer” replied respectfully, “We returned too late. When we entered the temple, the High Priest was already wounded by Sandru.” After a slight hesitation, he continued, “As for the Queen, she was also injured. Sandru took her away.” “Hmm, I heard that the Queen and Loya betrayed us, not only helping Sandru assassinate the High Priest, but also remaining loyal to him, risking their lives to cover his escape.” “This… my subordinates had already surrounded Sandru, but Loya ambushed him from behind, allowing him to escape. Her Majesty the Queen took an arrow shot by one of my men for Sandru.” “Are you sure?” Gru leaned forward, his gaze fixed intently on the archer who answered. “Did Her Majesty the Queen truly take an arrow for Sandru willingly, or was she forced to do so?” The archer glanced at his companions behind him, then turned back and replied, "We all saw it very clearly. Sandru had already turned around; he was in a hurry to escape and didn't see my arrow at all. But Her Majesty the Queen clearly saw it and thus shielded Sandru in time." He paused, then added in a deep voice, "We can hardly believe it ourselves, but that's exactly what happened. We saw it with our own eyes; there's no mistake." "Is that so…?" Gru leaned back slowly in his chair, his voice hoarse. "So you abandoned the rescue of the Queen, letting her go with the enemy." "We deserve to die." Several "Phantom Archers" bowed their heads deeply. "We only thought the High Priest was too badly injured, and judging from Her Majesty the Queen's condition, it seemed that she was safe with Sandru, no matter what." "Safe…" Gru muttered to himself, "The Elven Queen falling into the hands of the undead—can that be described as dangerous?" His voice gradually rose as he spoke. The archers shuddered, sweat pouring down their faces, and said in unison, "We deserve to die, Your Majesty, please punish us." "Never mind," Gru sighed, "I understand your loyalty, and the High Priest's situation was indeed dangerous. I will not punish you; you may leave." Watching the "Phantom Archers" retreat from the hall, Gru sat silently. Jem, sitting quietly to the side, couldn't help but say, "Your Majesty, I don't think your Queen would betray you. They must have mistaken you." Over the past few days, Gru and Jem had become quite familiar, and Gru even admired him greatly. Even this matter hadn't been hidden from him and Shuri, allowing them to sit beside him. Seeing Jem's concerned expression, while Shuri silently watched him, her expression quite complex. Gru chuckled. "Do you think I wouldn't trust my own wife? Jane would never betray me, but my men are all excellent archers with sharp eyes; they wouldn't be wrong." Waving to stop Jem from speaking again, Gru continued, "I've heard that Sandru is most skilled in curse and control magic. Jane must be under his control. I'm just thinking about how to save her." Standing up, Gru slowly said, "No matter what, Sandru will never have a good time." His chilling voice revealed intense confidence and deep hatred. Jem felt a chill run down his spine, followed by a surge of adrenaline. He knew that the war between the two most outstanding figures on the continent was about to begin. Entering the temple again, Deming lay quietly in the spot where he had always stood. His injuries were beyond the help of any treatment; only the divine power from the Mother Goddess within the temple could help him endure. “High Priest…” Gru slowly knelt beside Deming, gazing down at the bloodless, aged face, and felt a wave of desolation. This man, hailed as the most outstanding mage of the elves, had silently guarded Sodanesra for countless years, spending his days in the temple, and was considered a representative of the God of Nature. Yet now, this seemingly invincible figure lay before him, his life like a candle flickering in the wind. “Child…” Gru was startled to hear the High Priest's voice. Since being moved into the temple, Deming had entered a deep sleep, showing almost no signs of life. His gaze had been fixed on Deming's face, his lips clearly unmoved. Yet now, he had heard Deming's voice clearly. "Don't be surprised, my child, I'm glad to see your reaction." The voice continued, echoing throughout the temple: "My physical body is actually dead, but my spiritual power is held together by the sacred power of this place. These past few days, I've been trying to adapt to this situation, and now, it's clear, I can finally communicate with others." Having confirmed that the voice didn't originate from his body on the ground, Gru raised his head and said, "I don't quite understand what the High Priest is saying. So, what is your current situation? Are you alive? Or dead?" "Hehe..." Deming's voice rang out with a rare laugh, clearly in a good mood: "Life and death are no longer important. In short, I still exist. You can consider me still alive; we've been talking all along, haven't we?" Deming's emotions infected Gru. After a moment's thought, he stood up and laughed: "The High Priest is right. Although we elves enjoy long lifespans, you have broken free from the constraints of the physical body. I should perhaps congratulate you." "A promising young man!" Deming praised, continuing, "My frail body directly led to this failure. Although I can't use magic now, I don't regret it. Freed from the limitations of my physical body, I can think things through thoroughly. Perhaps in the future, I can find a way to use magic." Hearing this, Gru asked, "Then, High Priest, can you tell me where Jane is now, and what kind of control magic Sandru used on her?" Deming's voice was silent for a moment before continuing, "Jane is not under Sandru's control; in fact, her consciousness is completely clear." "But she hasn't betrayed us either." Gru's expression changed, and Deming continued, "These past few days, she must have been forced to kill our people for some reason, and at the same time, she had to steal the Soul Amulet for Sandru." "The Soul Amulet!?" Gru murmured, "So Sandru's goal was to collect the artifacts of their undead race. Hmph, he wants to be like Shakshir too. But how could Jane listen to him?" "I've always suspected this; the problem may very well lie with your child." “Our child?” Gru’s eyes flashed. “Yes, Jane is just a woman after all, and Sandru probably saw that too. High Priest, have you found anything? Where is the child now?” “It’s very strange. I’ve examined the little prince thoroughly, but I haven’t found anything. However, Sandru is skilled in curse magic, and he may have used a method we can’t detect. The little prince is still in the temple. Would you like to go see him?” “I’ll think about it later.” Gru nodded. “Even so, Jane shouldn’t be protecting Sandru. Killing Sandru would be good, but if we could capture him alive, a guy like him would never give up his endless life.” As soon as he said this, Gru suddenly seemed to realize something and abruptly raised his head. “I understand.” “Yes,” Deming’s voice followed. “Although the child was forced, she killed her own people and caused my defeat at Sandru’s hands. She can no longer forgive herself. So, she didn’t take that arrow for Sandru; she didn’t want to live.” “That fool…” Gru sighed with relief, then his expression turned grave. "In that case, I cannot let her fall into Sandru's hands. High Priest, I will set off immediately and rescue Jane." His eyes flashed, and Gru added, "No matter what kind of curse it is, once the caster dies, it will probably lose its effect." Just as Gru turned to leave, a frantic cry came from outside the temple: "Your Majesty, we have just received a report that Chieftain Saen of the Moon Elf tribe has declared his secession from the rule of Sodanisla and is raising an army to seek justice for Princess Yelena!" Gru immediately stopped, hearing Deming's long sigh. As an ancient race, the elves were divided into tribes. The previous Elf King was the chieftain of the largest tribe, the Moon Elves, and Yelena was originally a princess of the Moon Elves. After she married Gru, Gru...Lu ascended to the throne of the Elf King, and thus abandoned this title. Unexpectedly, the Moon Elf race now uses the pretext of seeking justice for the princess to launch a rebellion. “That Saen,” Gru said bitterly, “he’s been unhappy about me inheriting his father’s position for a long time, and now he’s finally got his chance.” “This matter hasn’t been leaked,” Deming’s voice rang out sadly. “Saen, that child, he acted too quickly.” Gru’s expression shifted. “High Priest, are you saying Saen is colluding with Sandru?” “There’s no mistake,” Deming replied. “Under these circumstances, we can only temporarily put aside the pursuit of Sandru and focus all our efforts on dealing with the current crisis. Sandru is no simple man; every step he takes is carefully considered. He wouldn’t have started collecting the artifacts if he wasn’t absolutely certain.” “That’s true, but…” Gru smiled coldly. “Sandru ultimately underestimated me. What can that Saen do? Even if we delay him, Sandru won’t get very far. With my tracking skills, even if Sandru is alone, let alone with two others, he won’t escape.” “I have no doubt about Your Majesty’s abilities. I only hope that Your Majesty can consider the future of the Elven race and try to minimize casualties.” "High Priest, rest assured." Gru looked around and smiled easily. "I don't know where to bow either. I'll go out and prepare. Farewell." After saying this, the Elf King walked to the door, then turned back and said, "My child will need the High Priest's continued care. I will return with his mother to see him. I will also bring Sandru's dead head as a gift from his father to my child." With that, he opened the temple door and strode out. "Oh... Chieftain, please don't do this, ah... I'm going to die... hehe..." Lewd sounds echoed in the room. Loya, naked and with her hair disheveled, lay sprawled on the huge wooden bed. A similarly naked man was on top of her. His lower body arched high and then thrust downwards forcefully. The man's face was buried between Loya's breasts, his long blue hair brushing against Loya's chest as his head swayed from side to side, the itchy sensation causing Loya's delicate body to writhe like a snake. Hearing Loya's barely suppressed laughter, the man finally raised his head. His once imposing face was now plastered with a lewd smile, his bloodshot eyes blazing with undisguised lust. "Loya, you little vixen, how come I never realized you were so wanton?" he said, continuing his thrusting while simultaneously lowering his head to suckle Loya's erect, bright red nipple with relish. "Ah...mm...mm..." Loya's seductive moans rang out again, her quick eyes glancing towards the door. Just then, the door creaked open. Sandru, dressed in black, quietly entered, his eyes meeting Loya's, a smile immediately spreading across his face. "Lord Saen is satisfied with Loya, isn't he?" "That's wonderful," the man who had been working hard straightened up upon hearing Sandru's magnetic voice, slowing his thrusting. "Brother, you rescued my sister for me, and even let me and Loya... Heh, I really don't know how to thank you enough." "Chief, there's no need for such formalities. It's my honor to serve you. As for Loya, she's certainly happy to serve you, the future Elf King." Seeing the other man's smug expression, Sandru's smile widened. Reaching the bedside, he gently caressed Loya's soft breasts, feeling the elasticity of her skin, and said, "I just received news that Gru has returned to Sodanesla. He's no ordinary man. Lord Saen will likely have to work quite hard to seize the Elven throne." "Gru… Hmph!" Hearing Gru's name, Saen's eyes flashed with venom. "The Elven King's throne should have been mine, but the old man was too biased. How could he pass the throne to his son-in-law instead of his son? Those guys in the tribe only knew how to blindly support the princess. Now, the princess has returned, half-dead. Let's see what they have to say then." With a thrust inside Loya, Saen continued, "Now no one dares to oppose my attack on Sodanesla. We Moon Elves are the most powerful race. That brat Gru has only been Elven King for a few years, and then he's been gone for ten. He's no match for us. When the time comes, I'll show him what I'm capable of, hmph!" As if venting his pent-up resentment, Saen took a breath, forcefully lifting Loya's legs high and launching a fierce assault on her exposed, exposed vulva. His long, thick penis, glistening with Loya's vaginal fluids, moved in and out of her wet vagina without resistance, each thrust withdrawing to the entrance before plunging in completely, the glans repeatedly striking her tender clitoris, causing Loya to cry out in pain. Seeing the impatience on Saen's face, Sandru silently opened the hem of his robe and thrust his penis into Loya's mouth. Saen was slightly taken aback, but seeing Loya only able to groan softly under Sandru's thrusts, saliva dripping from the corners of her mouth with each movement, Saen was momentarily stunned. His eyes gleamed with excitement as he shouted, "Alright, let's go together and fuck this slut to death!" With that, Saen's movements became even more ferocious. He cupped Loya's round buttocks in his hands, pressing her lower body even closer to his. Each time his penis reached its hilt, he used the force to rotate it a few times deep inside her, the glans rubbing and drilling against the soft flesh. Loya trembled all over, her juices gushing out in waves, soaking their joined bodies in a wet, messy state. Standing leisurely to the side, Sandru continued to playfully fondle Loya's breasts, his penis thrusting in and out of her mouth with abandon. Time passed quietly, and no one knew how much time had gone by, but this lewd union showed no sign of ending. Loya's body was covered in sweat, reflecting a seductive glow under the light. Her hands gripped the wet sheets beneath her, her round buttocks thrusting high back. Below her body, her breasts appeared larger due to their drooping shape, swaying back and forth with her movements, creating dazzling waves of flesh. Sandru's hands kneaded those lively breasts, occasionally flicking the round nipples with his fingers. Saen knelt behind Loya, his penis penetrating deep into her honeyed orifice from behind. With each powerful thrust, his abdomen slammed against her elastic buttocks, seemingly pulling him back effortlessly before another surge. Loya's body was held in place by Sandru in front, unable to avoid the impact from behind; each thrust of his penis was a solid penetration into her tight, soft passage. Due to the position, the friction between his penis and the walls of her orifice intensified, waves of increasingly intense pleasure crashing over Saen's lower body. His penis visibly swelled with blood, and his movements became increasingly frenzied. Standing opposite Saen, Sandru saw everything clearly, and his lower body movements suddenly intensified, pushing Loya's body backward, causing her buttocks to thrust back repeatedly. Loya, who had been intently sucking Sandru's penis, began to rotate her hips, instantly intensifying the stimulation of Saen's penis. "Oh...hoho..." With an extremely pleasurable cry, Saen finally ejaculated inside Loya. His lower body pressed tightly against Loya's buttocks, his penis deeply penetrating to the very end of her honeyed orifice. Streams of hot liquid poured onto her tender flower core, causing the soft flesh to contract and tremble in waves. After ejaculating, his limp penis slid weakly out of her vagina, and Saen, as if having exhausted all his strength, sat down on the bed. The bright red opening slowly began to close before his eyes, but streams of white, cloudy liquid continued to gush out. Seeing Sandru, who seemed completely unharmed, withdrew his penis from Loya's mouth and covered himself with his robe. Saen exclaimed sincerely, "Brother, you're really something! What, don't you want to have some fun?" Sandru smiled calmly and said, "I've never been very interested in this kind of thing, I'm just here to keep you entertained, sir. Oh, sir, why don't you let Loya help you clean up a bit more? She's very good at it." Loya, who was lying on the bed, turned around before he could even give the order, buried her head between Saen's legs, and skillfully sucked and licked the penis covered in their semen. Comfortably squinting his eyes, after Loya had completely cleaned his genitals and dressed, Saen lazily said, "Loya, you're amazing. Ah, you're truly a beauty." Loya gave him a charming look and said softly, "What am I? Her Majesty the Queen is the real beauty. Isn't that right, Master?" Glancing at Saen's strange expression after hearing Loya's words, Sandru said softly, "Her Majesty the Queen is known as one of the two most beautiful women on the continent. Naturally, you can't compare to her. But as her brother, Lord Saen certainly knows this better than we do. Do you need to say more?" Bowing deeply to Saen on the bed, Sandru added, "My lord must be tired. We need to discuss the military deployment tomorrow. I won't disturb you any longer." With that, he and Loya left the room. Walking behind...Loya turned and closed the door, still able to see Saen lost in thought on the bed. Turning around, she saw Sandru giving her a meaningful smile, and a smug smile immediately spread across Loya's face. [The End]

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