Chapter 107: Hatred until death

Rosalia wiped the drool from the corner of her mouth and said gently, "This young lady’s stomach is empty. You all look... rather delicious."

"Who goes there?" The knights drew their swords in alarm.

"A... woman? Who are you!"

Felix’s pupils contracted sharply. He was not dazzled by beauty. In a land ravaged by war, when a breathtaking woman strolled out smiling sweetly, it was never a good sign. More often than not, it meant she was a Divine Chosen.

"Ahem... blood sacrifice... ah, I forgot for a moment. Oh! Blood Sacrifice: Corruption. This young lady is going to chop you all to pieces."

Rosalia gave a sickly smile. The Greatsword of Gluttony flashed out from behind her, the demonic eye embedded in its blade flickering with a ferocious, terror-laced gleam.

"Run! It’s a Divine Chosen!"

The knights felt their hearts leap into their throats.

"Damn it! Why is there an enemy Divine Chosen here!"

Divine Chosen were exceedingly rare, deployed only at the sharpest edge of the blade—breaking formations, carrying out decapitation strikes, or defending fortresses. Encountering one outside a desolate little village in the middle of nowhere was practically impossible.

"Run. Run. It tastes better when you run."

Rosalia’s crimson tongue slid across her lips. Her gaze sharpened as surging divine power erupted from her body. She hurled the Greatsword of Gluttony forward. In an instant, it tore through space itself and blasted a knight—who had just mounted his horse—cleanly in half at the waist.

"It’s not over yet, human-flavored food."

She recalled the greatsword. The chains coiling around its blade lashed out again, dragging two more knights back toward her.

"Splurt—"

Their terrified screams were cut short as Rosalia casually tore them into pieces with a single motion. A torrent of life force poured into her.

"A Divine Chosen of the Shadow World Sect... this terrifying..."

Felix’s pupils trembled violently. He snapped his whip into a blur, driving his warhorse into a desperate gallop.

Though they still had thirty knights, not one of them harbored the slightest will to resist. All they could do was lower their heads and flee.

Screams and the sickening bursts of torn flesh echoed by his ears. Felix had already lost control of his bladder. But then—he saw it.

The mountain path leading downhill.

Once they reached the plains below, the terrain would favor their horses. If he could find the allied forces and call for reinforcements, he might survive.

Then Felix froze.

Ahead stood a wall—an improvised barricade formed from chevaux-de-frise, roadblocks, and ropes, all lashed together and piled across the mountain exit.

"Fuck! The road’s blocked!"

Memory struck him like lightning. Before launching the assault, Phield had sealed off the retreat. Felix had laughed at the time.

Now it had trapped him instead.

"Phield! I will never share the same sky with you!"

The three remaining knights were equally despairing, their curses hoarse and hysterical.

"Heh heh heh."

Rosalia was nearly laughing herself breathless. Of course she knew exactly why. In a blur, she flashed forward and cut down the remaining knights in a single sweep.

"I—I’ve long wanted to join the Shadow World Sect!" Felix collapsed to his knees, tears and snot streaming down his face as he crawled forward, begging for mercy.

Rosalia could not be bothered with words. The chains shot out and savagely twisted, snapping all four of his limbs. Corrupted divine power immediately began ravaging his soul. His agonized howls echoed through the mountains.

"AAAAAA—!"

The sun sank behind the peaks. The Battle of Mountain Spring Village came to an end. Corpses lay everywhere.

Moonlight washed over the fluttering banners. The soldiers of Nightfall Domain’s First Army did not rest. Cart after cart of rebel bodies was hauled out and piled upon the open ground beyond the village.

"Where did the overseer go? Why hasn’t there been any sign of him? Those uninjured, come with me to search."

Phield stepped out from the house, once again shouldering his greatsword, and asked the question despite knowing the answer.

Killing a fool was easy.

But the man had backing. He was also a military adviser to the Imperial Army. Acting openly was impossible—it would be treason.

Phield disliked convoluted theatrics. Yet if someone in the army betrayed him and exposed the truth, the matter would spiral beyond control. Letting Rosalia act in secret had been the safest option.

With torches in hand, they descended the mountain and soon found the missing cavalry.

More precisely—fragments of cavalry "heroes."

"What... what did they go through?" The newly conscripted soldiers were pale with fear. Staring at the scattered remains, their legs trembled as they kept glancing around. At the slightest rustle, they looked ready to bolt.

"Should we run?" someone whispered.

"Bah. Good riddance." Sam burst into laughter, utterly satisfied, and casually relieved himself on the spot.

Some of the more thick-skinned Nightfall Domain soldiers eagerly searched the area by torchlight for scattered valuables.

Phield showed neither anger nor joy. Stroking his chin, he said, "Search the surroundings carefully. See if there are any other discoveries."

"My lord, we found the overseer’s horses—in the forest."

Soon, a ten-man squad returned, leading the cavalry’s warhorses, their faces filled with disbelief.

"Thirty warhorses. Not one missing." The squad leader’s eyes were wide.

"Ahem. Wild horses. You’re mistaken."

Phield coughed lightly, ignoring the saddles and reins, silently praising Rosalia.

These warhorses were extremely valuable. Three of them even carried faint traces of magical beast bloodlines.

An absolute windfall.

The squad leader immediately grinned. "Yes, yes. Wild horses. We captured them."

At the end of the mountain path, they found Felix. His body was... everywhere. Fortunately, his clothing had been luxurious enough that they could barely piece together a rough outline.

The roadblock below had also been split apart.

"The vile attacker has clearly fled. The overseer fought to his final breath. He was a brave warrior." Phield let out a long sigh, his face heavy with emotion. "Though we had our disagreements, we fought side by side. Search carefully. Gather all of his remains."

Arlya frowned and crouched to examine the scene. "This was a massacre. The killer was no ordinary person."

"Indeed. In the coming days, we will assist Lord Regin with the investigation. It will give us a few days to rest."

After wandering briefly, Phield ordered the soldiers to collect the supervisory unit’s belongings and dispatched someone to inform Lei Ying. Then they returned to Mountain Spring Village.

Conveniently enough, the rebels had even prepared roasted mountain goat for them.

Phield carved off a generous plate, sprinkled seasoning over it, and ate by the fire. The lazy comfort spread through his body, leaving him pleasantly languid.

"Phield, you can still sit there leisurely eating roast lamb?"

Arlya rushed over, grabbed him by the arm. "Assemble the army and leave immediately. Those knights were slaughtered without a sound. An enemy Divine Chosen must have done it. If she continues assassinating targets, I won’t be able to protect you."

"Thank you for your concern, but my troops are exhausted. If we move rashly and collide with the enemy, we’ll suffer heavy losses." Phield had not expected the cold dragon-blooded woman to show concern for him. "Let’s wait for Lord Regin. We still need to assist with the investigation."

"But—"

"Good daughter. Have a bite."

Phield speared a piece of roast lamb and held it to her lips.

"Ah—"

Arlya brushed her hair aside with a finger, leaned forward, and took a small bite. After chewing thoughtfully, she gave a serious evaluation. "It’s a bit overcooked. No—that’s not the point. Leave quickly. If you get assassinated, don’t blame me. I don’t have the ability to protect anyone."

Phield considered for a moment, then waved dismissively. "Rest easy, good daughter. I know what I’m doing."

"Sigh. I truly can’t do anything with you." Arlya pressed a hand to her forehead in resignation. "I’ll go cook. Do you want anything else?"

Since joining the army, Arlya had served as its cook, raising the quality of meals by several levels.

The army was full of rough men. None of them knew how to cook. What they produced barely qualified as pig feed.

"Bring me a bowl of tomato soup."

"Fine. You must finish all of it." As she pushed the door open, she added over her shoulder, "This concerns the honor of dragons."

"Honor? Hmph. This young lady doesn’t believe that for a second."

The moment Arlya left, Rosalia slipped out from the greatsword. Lifting her skirt, she spun twice as though dancing, then began wandering aimlessly about the room, glancing here and there.

"Looking for something?"

"No. I’m simply waiting. Waiting for my beloved pet to feed me and then kneel to lick the dust from my feet." She shot Phield a slightly sulky look and muttered, pouting, "Favoring one over the other. I’m not talking to you anymore. For thirty seconds."

"Hey—since when did I become your pet? And stop slandering me."

Phield could not help but laugh. Was she jealous?

"My apologies, dear Miss Rosalia. That was my fault."

He immediately speared a piece of lamb and offered it to her.

"That’s more like it."

Like a child, Rosalia leaned forward smugly and ate. But her expression quickly grew solemn. After a moment’s silence, she swallowed the meat.

"It’s quite good." She dabbed her mouth with a handkerchief, though there was no trace of satisfaction in her tone.

Phield noticed. Rising to his feet, he asked softly, "Don’t force yourself. Could it be... you can’t eat ordinary food?"

Aside from tea, he had never seen her consume anything else.

It seemed Rosalia could only obtain "food" by killing living beings.

"It’s not that. I just don’t want to eat it." She turned her head stubbornly, denying it. Then her voice softened. "Fine. Ordinary food tastes like chewing wax. That... will you be afraid of me? Like you would fear a demon?"

"If it’s a demon with curves in all the right places who acts spoiled toward me, what’s there to fear? I’d be delighted."

Phield laughed and reached out to pat her head in comfort.

"Hmph. How trustworthy are a noble’s words?" Rosalia seized his outstretched hand instead. Smiling with flirtatious eyes and a hint of playfulness, though her body trembled faintly, she radiated charm and quiet joy. "For the sake of your long service to me, this young lady will reluctantly believe you. But I don’t want my head patted."

"Very well..."

Seeing the faint disappointment on Phield’s face filled Rosalia with delight.

For once, she felt needed. She could guide another’s emotions—rather than being feared as a corrupted being, or respected only as a Divine Chosen, or treated as a mere tool.