Black Hearted Mage

Chapter 366 Valkyrie

Time flew by, and in the blink of an eye, over a decade had already passed. Throughout these fleeting years, Bitterwater Farm had consistently provided Kaisus with a steady supply of soul energy. As for the methods used by the necromancers roaming the darkness to collect this soul energy, Kaisus never inquired, nor did he care—just as a farmer wouldn't care if his sickle was stained with blood before harvesting wheat.

Caesar also told the necromancers a lot of profound undead knowledge, but the more knowledge they learned, the more confused they became.

Meanwhile, the tragic news of the undead rampage within the Holy Roland Empire had already crossed its borders, spreading throughout the palace and the streets of the Roland Empire. Most horrifying of all, the black-robed wizard leading the undead army wore a diadem of the Church, a symbol of divine authority. The pure gold crown, gleaming coldly in the morning light, revealed the true identity of this undead leader—no need for speculation or verification.

Within the Saint Laurent Church, the upper echelons of the church now turn a blind eye to the nearby Bitterwater Farm. In the jewel-encrusted council chamber, cardinals fiercely debate the election of a new pope. The pampered church dignitaries, relying on the essence of blood to sustain their waning lives, their crystal cups reflecting the raging flames of the undead, yet they barely even bother to raise an eyelid. After all, the bloody nectar that promises eternal youth is far more worthy of their concern than the ethereal promise of faith.

The stoic Saint of the Saint Laurent Church, the old Patriarch Depero, and the elderly Barov and Lacio had long since quietly departed the Rose Castle and secretly returned to the Saint Laurent Empire. Their departures, like fallen leaves in autumn, went unnoticed, leaving behind only an empty meeting hall and a few unextinguished candles.

In the south of the Roland Empire, the sky was thick with dark clouds, the leaden-gray clouds so low that they seemed within reach. The chill of late autumn, mixed with the damp wind, heralded the arrival of the continuous rainy season.

At noon, a richly decorated carriage arrived, cloaked in dust, before finally stopping in front of Rose Castle. The carriage bore the Fire Maple City crest, but its hood was smeared with mud, evidently from a long journey. The driver, a burly man in his forties, appeared utterly awful—his cheekbones were bruised, the corners of his mouth cracked, and his right eye was swollen to the point of being nearly closed, evidently from a severe beating.

The gold mines outside Rose Castle have long been depleted, and the hustle and bustle of the past is long gone. Butler Sean is now quite free, spending his days brewing ale and basking in the sun at the castle gates, his pipe in his mouth. When he saw the lone noble carriage, he couldn't help but frown. The nobles of Fire Maple City were always accompanied by a large entourage, so why would there be only a scarred coachman? Sean subconsciously touched the dagger at his waist, a hint of vigilance flashing in his cloudy eyes.

The carved wooden door of the carriage was flung open, its silver-rimmed door slamming heavily against the carriage with a dull thud. A slender woman nimbly leaped from the carriage. Her dark red leather armor shone with a delicate sheen, and the two jewel-encrusted daggers at her waist swung gently with her movements. Her golden curls cascaded over her shoulders, swaying gently in the breeze. She raised her chin slightly, her azure eyes as sharp as a hawk's, fixed directly on Sean, who stood on the steps.

Her leather boots clattered against the stone steps, each step carrying an irresistible aura. "Clean a room for me and prepare a good lunch!" Her voice was soft, but it carried an unquestionable command, as if the request was a matter of course. Sean was momentarily speechless. This unexpected guest exuded a suffocating sense of oppression.

He gathered himself and bowed respectfully, "Madam, may I ask who you are? I want to report to the Earl!"

"I'm Vivian Barton." She waved her hand impatiently, the metal decorations on her leather armor jingling. "Now go prepare some tea. I'm a little thirsty!"

The moment the butler hesitated, a burst of hurried leather boots sounded in the castle. Vivian obviously didn't intend to wait for permission. She walked straight through the hall, her footsteps echoing in the empty corridor.

"Vivian Barton?" Sean muttered to himself. The name stirred a ripple in his mind, but he couldn't recall where he had heard it before. He turned hurriedly and walked quickly towards the living room, ordering the passing maid, "Hurry and prepare the best tea and snacks!"

His pace quickened, until he practically trotted towards the spiral staircase on the side of the hall. His boots made a dense, clattering sound as they pounded the ancient stone steps. By the time he reached the small attic on the top floor of the castle, panting, beads of sweat had already formed on his forehead.

"My Lord Marquis," he knocked lightly on the wooden door, his voice trembling slightly due to his rapid breathing, "There is an rude guest in the castle. Her name is Vivian Barton, and she is rampaging..."

Before he could finish his words, the oak door to the attic flung open. Marquis Caesars didn't even wait for Sean to finish his words before rushing out at full speed, a look of rare eagerness on his face. The massive, fat dog following behind him was even more eager, its bulk pushing Sean to the side, nearly knocking him off balance.

Caesars hurried to the living room and saw the legendary Duchess lazily reclining on a leather sofa, her shiny black leather boots casually placed on the coffee table, a blade of grass still clinging to the toe. Her slender fingers gracefully held a crystal teacup, the fragrant aroma of tea filling the air, framing her stunning face, exactly as he remembered it.

"Duke, you finally woke up!"

Caesars knelt on one knee, his voice trembling with excitement. He carefully examined the legendary figure before him—her cascading golden hair, her deep blue eyes, even the teardrop mole in the corner of her right eye was positioned exactly as it was in the statue in the cemetery. This Duchess, who had slept for over seven thousand years, was none other than his ancestor's most prized student.

The Duchess set down her teacup, its crystal base clattering against the coffee table. "Caesars, you need to expedite your task," she said in a voice as cool as an icy spring. "The teacher is ready to return."

"Didn't they say it would take a thousand years?" Caesars raised his head suddenly, his pupils shrinking suddenly, "Is the ancestor planning to return early?"

"A thousand years in the Abyss." The Duchess's red lips curled slightly, revealing a meaningful smile. "The flow of time there is different from that of Roland Continent. Now that the teacher has mastered the laws of time, he will distort the space-time channel when he returns. Two years—" She held up two slender fingers. "In two years at most, the teacher will set foot on the land of Roland Continent."

Before Caesars could digest this shocking news, there was a sudden, muffled thud at his feet. The fat, dark red dog, always lazy, had suddenly rushed over and was now excitedly scratching at the carpet with its paws, its chubby body jumping up and down in the living room like a ball.

Caesars frowned, staring at the frantic fat dog in front of him. It was lolling its tongue and rolling back and forth on the living room floor like a mad stray dog.

"You dead dog, why are you so happy?" Caesars kicked the fat dog's bloated belly with the tip of his boot, with a hint of disgust in his tone.

The fat dog rolled over and climbed up, its grin almost reaching its ears, revealing its jagged fangs. Its scarlet eyes flashed with a strange light, and a gurgling sound came from its throat.

"I'm going to see my master!" The fat dog suddenly spoke in human language, his voice hoarse and unpleasant, as harsh as sandpaper. The saliva it sprayed when it spoke splashed on Caesar's trouser legs.

Caesars subconsciously took a half step back, his face darkening: "I'm not your master?"

The fat dog sneered, its thick tail slapping the ground, raising a cloud of dust. It slowly raised its front paws and waved them as if to shoo away flies, its nonchalant look like that of an arrogant noble dismissing a servant.

"This lava dog was originally dead. In his lifetime, he was a lord of the lava plane in the abyss. It was the teacher who resurrected him. Your strength is far inferior to its own, and its following you is only temporary!"

The Duchess, wearing dark red leather armor, looked at the fat dog, weighing over a thousand pounds, and said a few words calmly. Caesars was astonished. He had no idea how resurrection could be achieved after death. What he had obtained was a lava dog egg.

Caesars gazed at the nearby Emerald River. Somewhere beneath the earth, a thick black liquid surged, its stench filling the caverns. The mission to destroy the Church of Saint Laurent was largely accomplished. Now only the final and most dangerous step remained: clearing the demonic blood and remains secretly sealed by the church. The black water, as thick as pitch, swirled in the stone pools, causing even the elven elders to shudder at the mere mention of it.

"You damn dog, you have to get the devil's blood!" Kaisas turned and said to the fat figure beside him.

The fat dog lazily sprawled on the white stone pavement, its wiry muscles heaving with each breath. Hearing its master's call, it slowly raised its massive head, two streams of sparking air emanating from its nostrils, its thick tail slapping the ground in an arrogant rhythm. Its small, green eyes swiveled cunningly, and its front paws sporadically patted the ground—a familiar movement that immediately convinced Caesars that this fellow was bargaining again.

"Listen," Kaisas rubbed his swollen temples, "as long as you deal with this black water, one hundred ox legs pickled with a secret recipe will be yours." He counted the remaining food in his space ring and said, "You greedy dog, you've eaten up the food in two storage rings this year. If you keep going like this, I'll have to take on mercenary missions to feed you!"

Upon hearing this, the fat dog immediately perked up its ears, its tongue drooping beside its fangs. It had indeed become increasingly difficult to keep an eye on lately: as its size had increased, its appetite had doubled. If it weren't for Caesar's modest wealth, feeding the fat dog would have been a real challenge. It not only ate regular meat, but also large quantities of magical beast flesh, fire crystals, fire magic cores... and sometimes even drank several bottles of fine wine...

"Ow..."

The fat dog suddenly stood up, its two-meter-tall body standing straight, then lay flat on the ground, gently tapping the ground with its front paws, sending a circle of sparks flying. This gesture indicated that the deal was done, but the guy's five claws were spread apart, and Caesars certainly understood the meaning.

"Okay, add five more bottles of ale!"

When the fat dog heard Caesars talking about the homemade beer of Rose Castle, he rolled his eyes and snorted in dissatisfaction.

"Five bottles of rum will do, you picky dog!"

A hum of joy came out of the fat dog's nostrils, along with a few sparks.

After the Duchess enjoyed a hearty lunch, she ordered her maid to prepare hot water for her bath. Meanwhile, Caesars received urgent news from Fire Maple City. It turned out that after leaving the mausoleum, the Duchess had first traveled to Barton Castle within the territory. Earl Barton, stripped of his title and fiefdom for his crimes, had uttered some offensive remark to the Duchess, only to be slapped dead by Vivian, leaving him no chance to beg for mercy.

To track down Caesars, Vivian traveled from the Earldom of Barton in a luxurious carriage straight to Fire Maple City. Upon arrival, she unhesitatingly entered the heavily guarded imperial palace grounds. When the palace guards routinely inquired about her purpose, Vivian flew into a rage, shouting, "You bunch of rubbish, you dare to stop me? You're blind!"

The Duchess displayed a terrifying display of strength. Her figure moved through the palace like a ghost, leaving over five hundred elite guards, unable to even draw their weapons, struck with resounding blows, each one falling to the ground, completely incapacitated. Alarm bells rang throughout the palace, their rapid peals echoing through the air. Even the Emperor's personal guards were urgently dispatched, but the result was the same: these warriors, known as the Empire's strongest, stood no chance against the Duchess.

Finally, the most powerful spy chief in the palace was forced to step forward. This man, normally feared by the courtiers, was like the other guards, unable to withstand even a single blow before Vivian casually slapped him to the ground, unable to rise again. No one in the palace could stop the enraged Duchess.

"You—get off right here! With your cowardly look, I can send you to see the late emperor with just one slap in the face!"

Duchess Vivian shouted sharply, her dark red leather armor glistening in the light. Her leather boots crushed the smooth marble steps, and her leather-gloved fingers stabbed straight at the throne. The old emperor's withered fingers gripped the gilded armrests, but he couldn't stop the trembling that ripped through his body. The jewel-encrusted crown tilted against his silver hair, threatening to fall.

"Your legs are weak?"

The Duchess suddenly laughed heartily, and in two steps, she rushed up the steps. She shoved aside the court steward who tried to stop her, and with her right hand, she grasped the Emperor's embroidered collar. With a snap, the sable fur cloak tore in two in her hand, and the withered old man was thrown aside like a torn sack.

Several white-haired nobles instinctively reached for their swords, but froze the moment the Duchess glanced over. She flung her scarlet cloak onto the throne and plopped down on it.

"A bunch of trash!"

She slapped the night pearl inlaid in the armrest and shattered it. The flying fragments startled the Chancellor of Finance and made him fall to the ground.