Chapter 115: art 10)
Uhe pyers' aimless, tactless chase of the allied soldiers on the periphery.
The tiefling army had long formed a tight attaation, seizing the breach created by the pyers like an impossibly sharp bde, pierg straight into the three thousand allied forces.
Medrosh charged at the forefront of the formation, his armor spttered with blood, and hardly anyone dared approach him.
He raised his blood-stained greatsword high.
【el Divine Power: Maerror】
A dark radiance immediately enveloped the surroundings.
Medrosh eled the darkest emotions, gathering and releasing them in a coercive magical aura, a unique ability of the Oathbreaker.
Allied soldiers were shrouded in darkness, dropping their armor and fleeing in instinctive terror.
"No, stay back!"
"Ah—"
"Run!"
"He's a devil, an ination of the devil!"
Blood spttered onto his face, and Medrosh's lips curled slightly: "The ination of the devil, huh."
It seemed to stir some memories within him.
He was silent for a moment, then spoke calmly, "Since you all wish me to be one, so be it."
Medrosh strode forward, swinging his blood-soaked greatsword, raining down crimson light uo the Oathbreaker’s Bloodied Holy Ssh.
Amidst the shrill screams, the lives of the allied soldiers were ruthlessly reaped by death.
The soldiers fled in all dires as if avoiding a demon. Even his own tieflings found their leader terrifying, only managing to release a few arrows from behind him.
Damacus quickly approached, worriedly asking, "Captain, are you... alright?"
"I'm fine."
"Never better."
As he spoke, Medrosh raised his greatswain.
【el Divine Power: trol Undead】
Corpses slowly began to rise, retrieving their dismembered limbs, a faint light flickering in their hollow eye sockets, as they lu their former rades with low growls.
"No—"
"Oh gods—"
"He really is a devil!"
"That devil resurrected them! He trol the undead!"
Seeing their former rades turned into undead, familiar faow full of hunger for flesh, pletely shattered the allied soldiers' morale. They fled in all dires, not wanting to end up the same.
Medrosh slowly lowered his blood-stained greatsword.
"The effect isn’t bad."
In his pitch-bck eyes without irises, a faint glow flickered. His ram-like horns were covered in blood, making him look like a true demon of the underworld.
trolling undead was an ability he had never used before, but Medrosh now felt ation.
Since he was dragon spawn, thehis…
It didn't matter anymore.
Medrosh gnced around, only to find that even his own rades—their eyes harbored a hint of fear.
But he pretended not to see, simply calmly, "Advance."
With the undead as their vanguard, the tieflings soon chased the g, fleeing allied soldiers all the way to the Bosk family’s a.
pared to the ander, André Bosk seemed more like a frontline warrior, having charged into battle alo the start, leaving all heavy and duties to his noble subordinates.
Those pampered nobles, watg the undead approach, were struck with overwhelming fear. One even fainted on the spot.
In their eyes, war was often a refined art, not brutal sughter.
The orders from the Bosk family were also clear—there was no need for desperate fighting, only to preserve their forces.
But now, with the enemy sughtering their way to their doorstep, things had far exceeded their expectations.
Baron Matthew's voice trembled: "W-what should we do?"
Vist Luton whispered, "Perhaps... we should surrender?"
"But I doubt they'll respect the sacred noble agreements."
"They’re dragon spawn, after all."
The undead advanced with low growls, while the tieflings held their ons in steady readiness.
Medrosh calmly stepped forward a few paces, pointing his sword at the a from afar:
"Surrender, and you will not be killed."
His voice wasn’t loud but rang out clearly.
The tent fell silent, followed by the sound of restless shuffling.
Baron Matthew, uo withstand the immense pressure any longer, stumbled out from the back, leaping onto his horse.
"You damned devils!"
"Go to hell!"
He cursed as he spurred his horse, fleeing as fast as he could.
Medrosh said nothing more, merely watg the fleeing noble coldly as he raised his swlowing with are light.
【 of Madness】
A twisted, jagged appeared on Baron Matthew's head, and madness filled his eyes.
He lost trol and fell from his horse, thrashing wildly on the ground.
Medrosh walked forward slowly, looking down at him.
"You truly have ce."
Baron Matthew rolled on the ground, screaming wildly, "One day, I’ll kill you all!"
"Ssh—"
With a swift cut, Baron Matthew’s frenzied body io the ground, dead.
The remaining nobles ient watched the bloody se, uo suppress a cry of horror.
But it was not over.
Medrosh pulled his blood-stained sword from the ground.
The corpse on the ground began tle, trembling as it rose, with a faint light in its hollow eyes—Baron Matthew had been transformed into an undead.
The nobles fell silent.
Medrosh drove the uo the front of the a aed calmly, "Surrender, and you will not be killed."
He paused.
"At least—I won’t turn you into something like this."
Soured from Vist Luton's brow as he finally succumbed to the pressure, colpsing to his knees, sobbing, "I surrender! I surrender! Please don’t turo an undead!"
"I surreoo! Just spare my life!"
"The Teman family will pay a ransom!"
"The Fat family requests cooperation."
"On behalf of the Chris family, I extend greetings to the Lord of Embers."
With Vist Luton as an example, the nobles ient all k, begging and weeping.
Medrosh gave a slight nod.
"Then, five me."
The tieflings bound the kneeling nobles.
Damacus approached carefully aed, "Captain... no, my lord, the allied forces on the right fnk have pletely colpsed, and the pyers are pursuing the remnants. Should we assist Lord Langpu in attag the enemy's tral forces from the fnk?"
Medrosh shook his head: "No, we’re retreating immediately."
Damacus was stunned: "But my lord, we—"
A glint of amusement appeared in Medrosh’s pitch-bck eyes: "Retreat at once. We have a grand ceremony for these o attend."
"Yes, my lord."
Though somewhat fused, Damacus followed the order, leading the terrified nobles baorth of the pass.
FAL
