These chubby Omen were not monsters during the era of the crucible of life; those horns were actually atavistic signs of excessive blessing. In other words, they were meant to be the noblest of subjects. Living in the Royal Capital Sewers with scrap weapons, they were already fierce.
Now, clad in black armor, fed well with meat and wine, and receiving guidance from Margit, their strong foundation was immediately apparent.
"Morgott is clever, utilizing these Omen. Give them a little favor, and they'll risk their lives for him."
Throne cursed; this was much faster than his own troop production. Moreover, it wasn't just Omen. The cavalry backing them up numbered a hundred, with eighteen on tall steeds, clearly Commanders. Throne had killed one such Commander before, and it had taken a lot of effort. Yet this legion, which should have been decimated during the 'Hero Hunt', was still alive and well. No wonder the Golden Nobles didn't dare to cause an uproar openly.
No matter how much they loathed these 'lowly ones', the blades in their hands were no toys. Throne thought for a bit and set a small goal for himself: at least kill half of them!
With Rya leading the way, Throne quietly returned to Volcano Manor. However, this low-key yet luxurious castle was completely deserted; the mistress of the manor, Tanith, was nowhere to be found. In just a few days, a thick layer of dust had settled on the tables. Rya brushed her hand across one, leaving finger marks.
She had wiped every table here; one could say she was the only maid in this massive manor. Now that the knights were gone and the Tarnished gentlemen had left, the once-bustling manor had become incredibly desolate. The girl felt a bit downcast. She looked at the figure by the window; this man was the culprit, but she couldn't bring herself to hate him.
A hypocritical dream must eventually be exposed. This manor only served a man-eating serpent. Rya didn't understand Rykard's ideals, let alone the Supreme Blasphemy. She only felt she had nearly become an accomplice, tricking good people into coming here as snacks. If she had done it, her sins would be irredeemable. Even as a victim herself, she would have had to apologize with her life.
"The Nights Cavalry is moving too slowly."
Throne gazed toward the entrance of the manor, seeing dark shadows searching around. The Nights Cavalry was a mixed bag. Its core consisted of the heroes who had joined Morgott in a counter-attack during the Defense of Leyndell. According to Ranni, during that war, Leyndell was leaderless, and the nobles stood by, waiting for a new master.
As for the slaughter and destruction brought by the war, they didn't give a damn. Even Godrick, who was highly anticipated, fled in disgrace disguised as a woman. In that moment of crisis, it was Morgott who stepped forward.
"They seem very cautious."
Melina also walked to the window to look out. Only then did she see the vanguard, spreading out slowly like a field of black wheat.
"Careless people don't survive this long. They probably heard that Moongrum is leading an army north and are afraid of an ambush."
Melina glanced at the man, knowing he and the Lunar Princess were plotting against others again. Even she knew why. Caria is too close to the volcano. Who knows if there are secret passages connecting them?
The Nights Cavalry only has a few hundred people; if they go in too deep and their retreat is cut off, they'll be in trouble.
"Do they dare to come?"
"Don't underestimate Morgott. He is also extremely determined. Once he's sure there are no Carian ambushes, he'll cut the Gordian knot. The longer it drags on, the more dangerous it becomes."
"Is this also part of your plan?"
"Yeah. If Morgott plays it safe, I'm finished."
Throne needed to push him. If Morgott stayed cautious, how could Throne strike?
"Besides, Rykard's cooperating perfectly—pulling his forces back. Morgott's going to have a headache."
Throne understood the moment he arrived at Volcano Manor. Rykard was planning something big. Otherwise, he'd have abandoned the Man-Serpents and war machines, hiding deep in the volcano. Instead, he'd set up an Empty Fort Strategy, leaving Morgott in a bind.
"He already lost once at Mt. Gelmir. The Golden Nobles are waiting to mock him again."
"For both pride and politics, he'll hunt Rykard to the end—or at least crush him into the depths."
Throne could relate to Morgott's frustration. He glanced at Rya, who stood dazed.
"Don't just stand there. Take me to the armory first, then the hidden room. I'll wait for them to walk right in."
Margit stared at the abandoned Volcano Manor, a headache brewing. The best-case scenario was gone. If Rykard had turned into a mindless monster, they could've laid siege here. Even if they didn't kill him, a heavy blow would've been enough. But Leyndell's undercurrents were churning, and Margit was in a rush to head north and take command of the Haligtree Army. He didn't even know what was inside Volcano Manor. Some Gelmir Knights had surrendered, but they clung to their knightly code, refusing to spill secrets. No one had ventured into the interior yet.
"Your Highness, we've searched the perimeter. No one."
"Scouts confirmed the manor's abandoned."
"The Carian Army's camped below the Grand Lift of Dectus. No sign of movement."
Funeral Steeds came and went, gathering intel. Margit said nothing, his gaze fixed on the castle. Caria's cooperating but holding back. Why? Have their elites already infiltrated, trying to lure me into complacency? He'd only read about the Ancient Great Serpent in books. Did the monster have intelligence—a gluttonous beast or a cunning schemer?
"Your Highness, advance or retreat?"
An exceptionally tall Nights Cavalryman approached, his Glaive nearly three meters long. Like Erickson, he was a Commander of the Nights Cavalry, one of the highest-ranking members in a legion of only five hundred.
"Eamon, what's your suggestion?"
"Retreat. My gut says something's wrong here. We'd be better off returning to Leyndell to make an example of a few troublemakers. The rumors are getting out of hand."
His voice was steel, matching his needle-like beard. Margit stayed silent. His instincts screamed the same, but doubt gnawed at him. The Great Serpent, known for gluttony; the Primeval Sorcerer; the Death Eater… If it's a coincidence, it's too perfect. And the blood at the village ruins—how do you explain that? It couldn't just be some passerby caught in the crossfire.
"Advance. Resolve this volcano business quickly, then head north. Tell every unit to stay sharp. Who knows what's waiting inside."
It sounded reckless, but it was like Leyndell all over again—when the nobles watched coldly, and he led a ragtag army of citizens and criminals against the demigod coalition. Some things had to be done.
"Yes!"
Eamon saluted and left without hesitation. Since that day, he'd long since set his life aside. The thunder of footsteps rose as the army marched toward the castle. Margit stood in the wind, unafraid of a bloody battle. His only fear was that Rykard wouldn't show. Iron boots trampled through the manor. Every room was kicked open, every corner searched. Mud streaked the carpets, but not a soul remained. The place had been stripped bare. Margit stood in the main hall, looking up at Rykard's portrait on the wall, his eyes filled with an expression of disbelief. An in-law, a demigod with a great rune, actually wanted to blaspheme the golden order. It was almost unimaginable. When he was struggling to survive in the foul sewers of the Royal Capital, this man was still enjoying wealth and honor. With high status and no worries about survival, why blaspheme and change the order that gave him everything? This demigod, who had suffered so much yet still chose to love, could not understand. He felt an extreme rage. Compared to an opponent, he hated a traitor more—a traitor who was supposed to protect the golden order!
"Your Highness, we found a secret passage leading directly to the interior of the volcano, and we've encountered resistance."
A Nights Cavalryman came to report, his face under his helmet showing some confusion. At this moment, His Highness was filled with killing intent, even more intense than during the Defense of Leyndell.
"Found any other clues?"
Margit wasn't in a hurry to give chase. After suspecting Rykard was related to the Death Eater, the more he thought about it, the more suspicious it became. How many people are in that organization? Is Rykard really the leader?
"A rough search yielded no clues, but there are traces of a retreat into the volcano."
Did he flee? Right, let's see if he's avoiding my edge or intentionally luring me to chase.
"I see. Eamon, take a hundred men to guard the retreat. The rest follow me. We must find a way to kill it, or at least deal it a heavy blow."
Margit was only a projection; he wasn't arrogant enough to think he could solo Rykard. No matter. If I can't solo him, we'll swarm him!... With the chubby Omen as the vanguard, the dark legion began to advance underground. In the attic at the top of the manor, Throne was looking down at everything. This was a secret room, with the entrance through the third-floor ceiling. The Nights Cavalry had come in such a hurry that their search hadn't been thorough enough to dig three feet deep.
"Finally starting to move. As expected, they don't dare delay."
Throne cracked his neck. Morgott would soon discover that the interior of the volcano wasn't so simple. There was lava everywhere and tunnels going in all directions, which was very unfavorable for deploying troops. But the Nights Cavalry was so elite that they certainly couldn't be stopped by just those Man-Serpents and war machines. Follow them, or continue to wait? Throne hesitated for a moment, calculating Rykard's tactics. He couldn't hold the front, so he would definitely hide in the depths, and Morgott, being only one step away, wouldn't be satisfied.
"Wait a bit, then find a way to hinder them. We can't let them decide the winner instantly."
Throne didn't rush out immediately. He nodded to Melina: "Follow them and report the situation to me."
"Okay."
Melina was about to vanish when her hand was caught.
"Be careful. There are masters everywhere; they might notice you."
Melina lowered her head and quietly pulled her hand away.
"Don't worry, I know what to do."
With those words, she vanished. In this battle, even if she couldn't be the claws, she would be the eyes and ears—not for the Lunar Princess, but for Throne. Once Melina left, only Throne and Rya remained in the room. In the silence, there was only the thundering sound of footsteps. The Nights Cavalry made the manor tremble. The entrance was a bit too small for the chubby Omen. Throne wasn't in the mood for small talk, so he closed his eyes to rest. After sitting for a while, he felt a pair of delicate hands pressing on his temples, gently rubbing.
"Rya, what are you doing? Use this time to get some rest."
"I... I can't sleep. I saw Miss Melina often helping you relax, so I learned how to do it. This is all I can do; it makes me feel a bit better."
Rya's voice was soft, barely audible. She had no power, but she could help with these small, insignificant things. Hmm, she's a good girl. Throne nodded, thinking his luck was really good. The people he met were all strong, at least mentally. He had never met a fool who just laid down and relied on others. Even if their power was small, even if they could only provide a tiny bit of help, they would do it consciously. This might not mean much, but it could make those risking their lives feel more at ease.
"It seems I am very lucky."
"What did you say?"
"Nothing." Throne smiled. Suddenly, the floor shook violently, as if giant waves were crashing against it. The battle between the two demigods had begun. Rykard would not retreat. Morgott would not flee. At the end, it was either death or victory; there was no third path. This was perhaps the first battle between lords since The Shattering. But this time—The oriole is behind. Inside the manor, lava churned. Rock walls crumbled. A river of lava passed through the middle, splitting the battlefield in two. Yet, whether it was the Golems, the Man-Serpents, or the Great Sin Prisoners pushed to the front, none could stop the charge of the Nights Cavalry. Clatter, clatter, clatter! The black Funeral Steeds ignored the scalding lava, galloping across and carrying the knights to the other side. They climbed steep cliffs and landed steadily on the ground. Clang! Ballistae forced the knights back continuously. These weapons, originally meant for Throne, were now coming in handy. The knights gripped their shields tightly and soon halted their retreat. More and more soldiers climbed up, their pitch-black armor looking incredibly menacing. Along the way, people were constantly hit by arrows and fell into the scalding lava, but the overall trend was a continuous advance. They did not fear death.
"Form ranks! Advance steadily!"
A roar echoed. With those dozen or so powerful Nights Cavalrymen as the spearhead, the ballistae couldn't even scratch them. When dozens of Abductor Virgin Golems came spinning toward them, they threw their shields aside.
"Kill!!"
Iron clashed with iron. The Nights Cavalrymen in front were like boulders. They used various weapons to stop the steel charge head-on. Those sharp circular saws and cleavers cut down several Omen soldiers, but once their momentum was gone, they became lambs to the slaughter. Bang—Flails dented the steel. Omen soldiers carrying large axes swarmed forward, chopping them into parts like firewood. Ballistae from behind pinned them to the ground, then more shields were raised to block the bolts.
"Third squad, follow me! Take the high ground! Everyone else, split up and strike!" Commander Erickson roared. He swept away bolts with his greatsword and knocked over and trampled Man-Serpents with his greatshield. His momentum was unstoppable. He charged onto the high ground, shattered a Ballista with one sword strike, and fought to the death with dozens of Man-Serpents surrounding him. As the battle raged, sounds of fighting came from behind. He turned his head to see the lava churning as several massive creatures emerged from it, dragging soldiers crossing the river into the magma. Magma Wyrms? They had been hidden there all along? The timing was perfect, tearing the attacking formation in half. About a hundred people were still on the other side. This Praetor is quite interesting. The Commander didn't even look back, only leading his troops up the blood-stained stairs. Their only goal was the temple at the highest point. Meanwhile, the other Nights Cavalrymen led their subordinates into the dilapidated town and deep caves. Behind them, golden incantations appeared in the air. A condensed golden greatsword slammed into the lava river, blasting through scales like rotten wood. Magma Wyrm flesh sizzled as the blade carved through them. The king in the tattered cloak stood motionless on the shore. His eyes tracked the carnage without warmth. The Night's Cavalry had never matched the Haligtree's discipline or the Redmane's precision. Since Leyndell fell, they'd clung to a single truth.