Not a single Ryanian could have anticipated that a lively wedding would turn into a life-or-death battlefield in the very next second.
When the devastating strike—which had been brewing who knew how long—came crashing down, the small villa where the Ryanians were staying was engulfed entirely in crimson light. For a brief instant, even the thunder in the sky was drowned out by the red glare.
Old William sighed. Without time to chat further with the young Alan, he raised his shield and leaped out the window.
Golden Holy Light condensed into a colossal shield, enveloping the entire villa within.
At the sight of this shield of Holy Light, everyone ceased worrying.
The might of the Shield of the Empire was something even the Silvermoon Knight could scarcely shake, to say nothing of mere orcs.
The sheer weight of this shield was enough to set anyone's mind at ease... until the red light fell.
An indescribable tremor shuddered through the air, yet no sound of impact could be heard. It was as though a muffled bomb had let out a faint thump and fallen silent, only to unleash an utterly horrifying shockwave an instant later.
Gales howled, scouring away several layers of topsoil in the surroundings.
When the dust finally settled, the shield of Holy Light lay shattered, and the small villa was riddled with cracks, teetering on the verge of collapse.
The Shield of the Empire had ultimately failed to fully block the full power of that horrific blow, but the villa fared far better than the apocalyptic scene all around.
Fortunately, everyone inside the villa was an elite combatant; before the structure could collapse, they had already evacuated to safety.
Old William, his face pale, stared at the massive orc before him, his expression turning exceedingly grim.
It was a terrifying orc standing over three meters tall, his skin an all-encompassing crimson, wielding a greataxe in each hand. Weapons an ordinary man would have to swing with two hands were handled like playthings in his grasp, wielded as one-handed axes.
The Orc King, Logar—there was no second orc who looked like this.
Why had he suddenly appeared, attacking the Ryanians with such brazen disregard?
Did that lich really dare risk the reputation he had painstakingly built for so long just to screw over the Ryanians? Just to assassinate the Ryan Emperor?
It seemed like a massive gamble, but in truth it made no sense at all; they could leave at any moment. If the Ryanians could install a teleportation array on a ship, scaling it down into a portable, single-use teleportation circle was hardly a technical hurdle.
Alan flashed to the young emperor's side and urged, "Your Majesty, please leave first. I will go ask that lich what on earth he is doing."
The young emperor cast a glance at Alan. Rather than heed his words, he looked out into the distance.
Deep within the thunder-riven night, countless dark figures appeared to be closing in at high speed.
"Your Majesty!"
Alan started to plead again, only to realize that several Ryanian paladins had already stepped forward, subtly hemming him in.
The young emperor scrutinized Alan for a few moments, then said, "Alan, do you truly know nothing of this?"
Seeing this posture, Alan couldn't help a wry smile. Stepping back a few paces of his own accord, he asked in return, "Your Majesty, if I say I know nothing, would you believe me?"
The young emperor gave no answer, but the other Ryanians already had. From the very beginning, Alan had not been trusted; now, he was naturally the prime suspect.
Yet the Orc King cared nothing for internal Ryanian squabbles. He drew back the axe in his left hand and hurled it forward with tremendous force.
His explosive power sent the greataxe spinning at blinding speed, screaming shrilly through the air, aimed straight at the emperor.
The Shield of the Empire, Old William, had yet to catch his breath, but he still raised his shield to intercept the axe for his emperor.
The tremendous impact forced Old William back several meters. Though this strike was far weaker than the previous one, Old William had depleted too much Holy Light and still struggled to hold his ground.
Spinning away, the greataxe was deflected dozens of meters.
Seeing this opening, the other Ryanian paladins charged toward the Orc King, aiming to swarm him while he held only a single axe.
Yet to everyone's shock, the Orc King merely held aloft the axe in his right hand, and the one that had just gone flying flashed back into existence right before him.
This was a pair of artifacts. Even if one axe had been bought by Ryan, it could still be summoned across thousands of li through the other. The Ryanians, however, had no inkling of this.
Caught off guard, the two paladins who had charged in were forced back by a wild flurry of swings from both axes, sustaining light injuries.
Yet the moment their feet hit the ground, healing spells washed over them, along with a cascade of support spells—Warding Bond, Blade Ward, and more—making both paladins glow like lightbulbs.
This was the Ryanians' signature combination: paladins paired with clerics of light equaled invincibility.
Bolstered by this array of spells, the two legendary paladins launched a pincer attack from left and right. One swung a greatsword of light as thick as a pillar, while the other wielded a five-meter lance of Holy Light, showing not the slightest fear toward the towering three-meter-tall orc.
The Orc King roared and bellowed, barely suppressing the two paladins as his stamina continuously drained.
"Despicable white-haired dogs! You're no warriors at all! Come on out, all of you! What are you still watching the show for?!"
Following the Orc King's roar, thunderous crashes echoed from the darkness. A massive silhouette burst forth, wreathed in purplish-red flames!
A longblade burning with flames swept in a dazzling arc around the figure's flank; purple fire erupted from the dark silhouette, hurtling like an artillery shell toward the white-haired elder.
A young paladin beside him flashed in front of Old William, raising his shield against the flame-wreathed blade.
The moment Old William saw that purple fire, he opened his mouth to shout a warning. Alas, he was a step too late. The purple-flamed longblade punched through the young paladin's shield and ran straight through his torso.
The shield, blessed with Holy Light, proved as flimsy as paper; neither his enchanted armor nor more than a dozen defensive divine spells could withstand the blade.
"No!"
Old William's cry came only then, but the paladin could no longer hear clearly. He could not comprehend how he had failed to block even a single slash!
Accompanied by the rattling clash of chains, the purple-flamed longblade was yanked from his chest, and the towering silhouette was finally revealed to everyone's eyes.
It was a headless horseman clad in pitch-black heavy armor, mounted atop an eight-legged giant steed.
Gareth turned toward Old William and said with surprise, "Huh, I think I've seen you before. Many years ago, in Mercury City down in the Underdark..."
Having recognized the newcomer, Old William tossed the dying young paladin to a cleric and roared, "Retreat at once! Protect His Majesty and get him out of here! I will hold him off!"
Old William's hands were trembling, but not purely from fear. He had recognized who this headless horseman was—the undead hailed as the Ryan Empire's disgrace, the headless horseman who had once carved his way straight through the Ryan Empire single-handedly!
He knew this because his own ancestor had taken part in the campaign to besiege Gareth, only to die by the headless horseman's hand.
Every generation of the Garrisons had been paladins, and every generation regarded Gareth as their family's greatest foe.
And today was the second time Old William had ever seen this headless horseman. The previous occasion had been decades ago, when he ventured into the Underdark alongside the Silvermoon Knight to subjugate that formidable lich.
That lich had defied life and death, violating natural order by turning undead into true living beings. To Ryan, such profanity was utterly intolerable. Thus, the Silvermoon Knight led the empire's elite into the Underdark to put an end to him.
At first, all had gone smoothly. With the Silvermoon Knight leading the vanguard and Old William supporting, their coordination swept through the Underdark.
Later, to ensure the lich had nowhere to flee, Old William and the Silvermoon Knight split their forces to attack Mercury City from two directions.
On one side stood the Silvermoon Knight alone; on the other, Old William led thousands of elites, including the Silvermoon Knight's most prized pupil.
The Silvermoon Knight went up against the Undead Legion of the Underdark, whereas Old William's side encountered only one person—the headless horseman before him.
And with a single charge, he had ripped through the Ryanian army.
Old William had failed to react in time back then, his shield and body impaled together by the knight's longblade; the great Shield of the Empire couldn't even withstand a single strike.
Old William distinctly remembered the sensation of that purple-flamed blade piercing his chest; what had just happened felt like history repeating itself.
In the end, survivors cast teleportation magic to spirit the rest away, and only thus had Old William survived.
Ryan had suffered catastrophic losses in that battle. Not only was he gravely wounded, taking years to recover, but the Silvermoon Knight's prized pupil had died at this headless horseman's hands, trampled into paste beneath the eight-legged steed without the slightest chance to resist.
Meeting again at last, that nightmarish figure made Old William shudder all over.
Not just from fear, but from exhilaration.
Old William raised his shield, placing his aged body between Gareth and the emperor. He downed a vial of potion resembling a starry night sky. Immediately, his white hair turned dark, his withered frame straightened, and he transformed from an elder with one foot in the grave back to his prime in his thirties.
Behind him, the clerics of light layered countless spells upon him, making him feel several times stronger once more. Brilliant Holy Light flared from his shield, forming an iron wall of radiant light that surged toward Gareth.
Back then, he had possessed only a vigorous body without this formidable Holy Light; now, bolstered by the power of the Fountain of Youth, he had reclaimed his youth.
The family feud and the old blood debt—it was time to settle the score.
The iron wall of Holy Light surged toward Gareth, its radiance condensing into hundreds of lances resolved to impale Gareth's body.
Yet Gareth showed not the slightest inclination to dodge. Instead, he squeezed his mount's flanks and charged straight at the iron wall of Holy Light.
This time, rather than throwing his flaming longblade, he gripped the hilt firmly with both hands and slashed down with immense force against the radiant wall.
The purple flame was so dense it seemed to turn into darkness itself as it collided with the iron wall of Holy Light.
In a single instant, the iron wall of Holy Light, which concentrated all of Old William's might, was cleaved clean in two.
Old William stared at the dark aura slashing toward him, unable even to react.
Was Holy Light not supposed to counter dark magic?
Chapter 509