Chapter 113: Betrayal

Arrows flew wildly through the air. Smoke choked the sky, flames raged unchecked, and the army of Wind Orchid City was annihilated to the last man.

Only the occasional knight managed to stumble out alive by sheer luck. But scattered and isolated, they were no match for the waiting forces and were quickly hacked down in a flurry of blades.

The scene was utterly horrifying—paired with the screams and the roaring inferno, it resembled the depths of hell.

At last, Unova staggered out with Moan slung over his back. When he saw the Nightfall Domain soldiers standing ready outside, he gave a bitter smile and tossed Moan onto the ground.

"As expected of a third-tier knight—there isn’t even a trace of burn marks from the flames," Phield couldn’t help but marvel. Unova still had his armor and weapons; only his mount was gone. Moan, too, had been well protected, with no obvious burns.

"A demi-human Divine Chosen... what a grand display. No wonder you managed to take Agim’s villa," Moan sneered, forcing himself up from the ground. Behind him, the fire still blazed fiercely, but the soldiers’ screams had already faded into silence.

Most of the troops had marched through the night and were exhausted to begin with. Trapped in a sea of fire, they had no strength left to flee. The battle had ended in utter disaster.

The only consolation was that all his incriminating evidence had turned to ash in the flames.

Moan laughed bitterly. "It’s my fault. My greed destroyed everyone. At first, I only wanted my family to live better lives—to see my son become a knight, to marry my daughter into a good household. But it spiraled out of control."

Unova didn’t understand what Moan was rambling about and merely shook his head.

"It’s too late to say that now."

"Yes. So I’ll atone with my death. Perhaps I can take one or two of you with me!" Moan burst into manic laughter. "You demi-humans are nothing but freaks born of beasts and men, destined to be erased from this world! When Lord Adrian returns, he’ll slaughter every last one of you!"

"I surrender."

Unova calmly set down his weapon, removed his armor, and dropped to his knees with a fawning expression. In a tone like reciting a hymn, he declared, "From this day forward, you are my queen, and I am your knight. I will charge into battle for you, even at the cost of my life—until eternity."

"Huh? You’re not going to resist?"

Ashina was stunned. She had expected Unova to fight desperately. Every human knight she had encountered before had been stubborn to the end. Yet she did not relax in the slightest—her fingers still pinched an arrow, ready to strike at any moment.

"What are you saying?" Moan was dumbfounded. His eyes bulged as he turned his head in disbelief, spittle flying from his mouth. "You’re betraying Lord Adrian! Where is your damned knightly honor?!"

With that, Moan snatched up a longsword from the ground and roared, "So what if we die? Humans will never bow to mongrel creatures! Get up!"

Unova remained unmoved.

"Then I’ll cut you down first, you traitor!"

Enraged, Moan swung his sword—but Unova easily seized it. With a single slash, surging magic burst forth in a shrill explosion, cleaving Moan into three pieces.

"My Queen, he was a trusted minister of the Baron of Wind Orchid City. I killed him—please believe me. It was love at first sight for me," Unova spat at the corpse, his face full of flattery. "I can bring you greater benefits. Name anyone you wish dead, and I will kill them."

"Ruthless. I admire ruthless people the most. Unfortunately, ruthlessness has little to do with intelligence—and nothing to do with fate," Phield nodded thoughtfully, then leaned close to Ashina and whispered, "Extract anything of value from him. Then kill him immediately."

One ruthless person in Nightfall Domain is enough—and that’s me.

Compared to Unova, Phield actually preferred Moan. Greedy, yes—but loyal.

Perhaps from different positions, people see entirely different landscapes.

Phield was waging a military gamble. The fewer variables, the better.

"Yes, my lord. I despise betrayal as well. He’s like a vile rat," Ashina agreed firmly. She nodded slightly, then said in a flat voice meant to deceive, "Tell us what you know. If it’s valuable, I might consider taking you in."

...

In Mountain Spring Village, Phield felt his nose itch.

"Achoo—"

Opening his eyes, he saw a snow-white, delicate toe right before him. His gaze instinctively shifted aside, only to see a pale calf like polished jade and a long black dress adorned with crimson ornaments.

Rosalia carried herself like an elegant, proud princess—though what she was doing at the moment was rather bizarre.

She sat on the bedside cabinet, hugging her leg, poking Phield’s nose with her toes.

"What the hell are you doing?" Phield sat up, speechless, and tapped Rosalia lightly on the head. He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. "One of these days I’m going to get athlete’s foot in my lungs. Your lord will die young."

"I’m very clean, you know. Not dirty at all. Even though I’m Corrupted, I’m spotless—hmph." Rosalia waved her hand dismissively, then revealed a mischievous expression. "I don’t mind if you’re dirty. Next time I’ll lick your feet."

What the hell? That’s so perverted.

Phield rubbed his temples, consoling himself: Corrupted beings are just silly like this. Don’t take it seriously.

"Pfft—just kidding."

Sure enough, three seconds later, Rosalia’s eyes cleared, and she looked far more normal. Her usual arrogant aura receded, replaced by a sly grin.

"Want to play Tiger Chess? Lose a round, take off one piece of clothing."

Tiger Chess was a common "asymmetric competitive game." Simply put, the black pieces could capture the white pieces, while the white pieces could surround and trap the black. In Phield’s original world, there were similar games.

Phield looked Rosalia up and down. Her beautiful black dress seemed exceptionally precious—lightweight and exquisite.

This was the first time Rosalia had ever asked someone else to play. In the past, she always played alone, and when bored she even flicked the pieces around like marbles. One glance was enough to tell she was a complete amateur.

"You’re only wearing one piece, right?" Phield asked.

Rosalia blinked playfully. "This dress is formed from divine power and bloodlines. It’s tightly wrapped and doesn’t hinder combat. You sneak peeks sometimes, don’t you? You can’t see anything good anyway."

"No wonder." Phield wiped cold sweat from his brow. "Ah—no, I never sneak peeks. I admire openly and honestly."

"Hmph. I’m generous. Even if it’s just one piece."

"Fine. You said it." Phield hurriedly put on his marching coat and outer robe, sneering confidently. "You’re going to lose badly. My nickname is Chess Saint."

He thought to himself: I’m a cunning human who knows how to play. There’s no way I’ll lose to a clueless Rosalia.

Besides, counting my pants and socks, I’ve got at least a dozen layers. She’s got one. This is a guaranteed win.

"Oh? I’m looking forward to you winning." Rosalia blinked, smiling in a way that seemed... oddly indulgent.