The abominable yeti sensed the danger of the incoming strike as well. Gathering its power in an instant, dense crystals of ice formed deep within its throat, blasting the tiefling paladin with a wave of bone-chilling cold.
"Cold Breath!"
Yet Mezrolash pushed forward into the bitter gale, gripping his sword with both hands and cleaving downward with vicious force.
The yeti jerked its head aside, causing the blade to strike one of the massive curled horns flanking its skull, slowly carving into the bone. But with immense brute strength, the beast pushed against the blade, violently shaking its horns from side to side to keep Mezrolash from focusing his power.
The Aura of Protection around Mezrolash flickered, barely holding off the encroaching chill.
Blood poured endlessly from the yeti's severed forearm while Mezrolash's body was slowly freezing—a final, desperate struggle for life.
The two remained deadlocked, each straining with everything they had to kill the other.
Right then, everything changed.
*Boom!*
Several scorching fireballs slammed into the abominable yeti's back, blackening vast patches of its fur and throwing it off balance.
The searing heat plunged deep into flesh and bone, roasting its cold-blooded form.
In its weakened state, the yeti let out an agonized howl and reflexively released its grip, hurling the tiefling aside.
Whirling around, it beat its chest furiously, trying to intimidate the vile ambusher.
Yet all that met its gaze was an earth-shattering inferno.
"Maximized Fire Breath!"
In an instant, the drifts of snow were flash-evaporated, leaving the bare earth hissing with plumes of white steam.
The once-ferocious abominable yeti remained standing, but its entire body was now a charred, unrecognizable silhouette radiating a putrid stench of burning.
As a gust of chilly wind brushed past, the ruined husk toppled straight over and collapsed into a pile of fine ash, swept up and scattered across the sky.
"Tsk, tsk. A monster vulnerable to fire."
Cassius folded his wings and landed, his claws stepping directly onto the smoldering remains.
Prompts refreshed across his interface:
[You have slain an abominable yeti (Challenge Rating 9). Gained 5,000 XP.]
[You have reached Level 6.]
Stealing a kill felt downright exhilarating—a formidable level-9 monster taken down in a single blow.
With the abominable yeti reduced to ashes, the remaining yetis scattered in panic, fleeing back toward the snow-capped mountains.
Yet despite the yetis' retreat, the tieflings remained on edge.
—For they now faced a red dragon, an entity far more powerful and unpredictable.
Even though it had just slain the abominable yeti for them, no one could tell whether this uninvited dragon was friend or foe—especially since red dragons were renowned for their cruelty and malice.
Sword and shield in hand, the tiefling warriors kept their guard up, nervously watching as the red dragon strode toward them. Yet none dared incur its wrath.
Leaning on his longsword for support, Mezrolash struggled to rise from the snow.
He did his best to stay composed as he took in the red dragon before him. Its massive frame stretched eight to nine meters long, corded with thick, powerful muscles and clad in bright scales that gleamed with a metallic sheen. Sulfurous heat drifted from its maw, as if an active volcano slumbered within its chest.
A mighty red dragon. Standing against it by force was impossible.
That was his definitive judgment.
Red dragons were infamous for their savagery; the slightest offense could send them into a rage, burying everything in flames.
Recently, the most infamous red dragon around the Storm Heights was the "Flying Flame," which had slaughtered the Eagle Guard.
And the enemy of one's enemy was a friend.
With that in mind, he commanded, "Lower your weapons."
Reluctant as they were, the tiefling warriors obeyed and cast aside their armaments.
Mezrolash sheathed his longsword at his hip and bowed with visible effort.
"Noble Lord Flying Flame, thank you for stepping in to rid us of our foe. Once we have settled, we will offer you a worthy reward to show our sincerity. Though may I ask... what brings your lordship to this place?"
Cassius eyed the tiefling before him. Instead of answering directly, he remarked with an amused tone, "You're the leader of the tiefling resistance? The fiendish spawn, the son of the Hells who supposedly devours three humans for every meal?"
Mezrolash's expression remained steady as he replied calmly, "Mere slander spread by House Lackman. I am sure you understand the arrogance and insolence of those bloodsucking vermin even better than I. That is just how House Lackman behaves—just as they brazenly encroached upon your territory."
Cassius looked down upon the tiefling and said, "A fine turn of phrase. But words alone and this laughable force of yours won't see you through an Anzeta winter."
Mezrolash replied respectfully, "Your lordship foresaw this, and so you came. Did you not?"
Cassius gave a slight shake of his head. "Truth be told, you matter very little to me. Only you hold any real value. The rest of these tieflings... might not even be worth a chest of silver coins."
Mezrolash said solemnly, "Yet I would gladly shed my last drop of blood and give my life for them."
Cassius narrowed his eyes. "I could help you stand against the armies of House Lackman."
"Yet your lordship is already at odds with them. That has nothing to do with us."
Cassius sneered and shook his head. "That doesn't stop me from deciding whether you live or die. If I were to sue for peace with House Lackman, disclose your location, and grant them military right of way through my lands... guess what happens next? Frankly speaking, you have no leverage to negotiate with me."
He went on, "Think about it. My Cinder Nest has room for tieflings as well. I can grant you sanctuary, help you endure the freezing cold, and even... protect you from the Eagle Guard's hunts."
Faced with such an alluring offer, Mezrolash's breath hitched slightly.
The light of his ideals had long been extinguished; his only remaining wish was to preserve his people.
And that opportunity now lay right before him.
Hesitating for a moment, the tiefling finally spoke in a measured voice, "Then, my lord... what is the price?"
Young yet weathered by harsh trials, the tiefling paladin knew that everything came at a cost. There was no such thing as a free lunch in this world—only senseless hatred that arrived unbidden.
Cassius leaned closer to the tiefling, his voice dropping like a devil's whisper: "Northwind Keep. I want you all to become my vassals and help me seize it."
Mezrolash lifted his gaze slightly and saw what looked like hellfire blazing within the red dragon's golden pupils.
He, too, had once yearned for the light and redemption, walking a path of mercy and justice. Even after breaking his oath, he had habitually clung to the tenets of an Oath of Redemption paladin, striving to remain true to himself.
Yet now, for survival—simply to live—he had to make this choice.
To become vassals to an evil dragon and conquer a city for him.
"Yes... Master. The tiefling tribe is willing to obey your will."
Mezrolash, the paladin who had once sworn to bend his knee only to the gods, bent his knees and knelt in submission.
Chapter 50