Black Hearted Mage

Chapter 379: War of Annihilation 9

Kaisas cut into the golden, crispy bread, steam rising in the morning air. He deftly used wooden tongs to place a few thin slices of sizzling, oily bacon between the loaves, the fat seeping through the grain of the bread. Just as he was about to enjoy this simple yet delicious breakfast, he heard the clattering of footsteps behind him.

The fat, shiny dog ​​immediately stood up from its cushion, its round belly swaying with the movement. It dropped three roasted, fragrant geese into its magic steel bowl, its mouth wide open, almost reaching its ears, its black eyes gleaming with a cunning gleam.

"Bread, you're really good," Caesars raised his eyebrows, the aroma of bread mixed with the salty aroma of cured meat lingering in his nose, "You've actually learned to eat alone!"

The fat dog whined from the depths of his throat, his wet nose twitching constantly, his eyes moving back and forth between the bread in Caesars' hand and the roast goose in the food bowl, his stubby tail sweeping a fan-shaped mark on the ground, obviously protesting against his owner for not preparing breakfast for him.

"Bread, do you know what this is?" Caesars pointed at the bowl with the still-steaming bread. The morning light shone on the golden, crispy skin of the roast goose, and the fat slowly dripped down its body.

“Big Bird!”

The fat dog suddenly raised its neck and made a strange sound between that of a human and a monster, and its thick jaw shook in waves with the sound.

"They are fat geese," Caesars took a bite of bread, and the crispy crust made a "crunching" sound. He smiled as he chewed, "They are almost as fat as you, and they can't fly!" As he said that, he reached out and poked the fat dog's round belly, and it immediately made a "howl" sound of grievance.

"Bread, eat it while it's hot. This roast goose won't taste good if it gets cold!" Caesars urged. The golden and crispy goose skin was still sizzling with oil, and the rich aroma of meat was wafting in the morning mist.

The fat dog, ears drooping, approached. Suddenly, it lowered its head, opened its bloody mouth, revealing sharp white fangs, and snatched up the entire roast goose in one gulp. The way it ate resembled a reincarnated hungry ghost, its sharp canines crunching the goose bones, chewing the skin and flesh to pieces, and thick grease dripped from the corners of its mouth onto the ground. This creature was not picky at all, even the toughest leg bones were chewed and swallowed with a "crunch bang" sound. In a blink of an eye, only a few drops of grease remained on the ground.

As the man and the dog devoured their meal, the rustling sound of leather armor rustled in the distance. Vivian, clad in dark red leather armor, approached, the dagger at her waist swaying gently with each step. Her cold gaze swept across the breakfast scene, finally fixing a firm gaze on the fat dog with its greasy mouth.

"Fat dog," Vivian's voice was as cold as ice. "I heard you sneaked into Holy Seal City last night?" She placed her slender fingers on the hilt of her sword. "And you burned over three hundred archers to death in one go?"

The fat dog, who was busy chewing the last piece of goose meat, suddenly froze, a whimpering sound coming from its throat. It shrank its neck and rubbed it back, its greasy tail tucked tightly between its hind legs. It didn't even dare to chew its favorite bone, like a child who had done something wrong.

Seeing this, Vivian sneered, "What are you afraid of? Go to Holy Seal City every day from now on!" She leaned over and grabbed the fat dog's ears, saying word by word, "Remember, next time, set a few more fires in the city. Burn it thoroughly!"

The fat dog opened its bloody mouth, snorting excitedly, saliva dripping from its fangs to the ground. Its small, mung-bean-sized eyes gleamed with greed, its mind filled with the fragrant delicacies and glittering gold and silver treasures of the Holy Seal City.

This obese dog, as big as a bull, displayed a cunning intelligence belying its bloated appearance. Like a giant mole, it dug furiously outside the city walls, its thick claws stirring up clouds of dust. Every few steps, it paused to gauge its direction with its nose, ensuring it was heading towards the city's wealthiest areas. As mounds of earth rose outside the city walls, the defenders of Holy Seal City watched with horror as the walls trembled slightly, unable to determine where the behemoth had dug.

From sunrise to dusk, the fat dog dug non-stop, except for occasionally nibbling on some dried meat to replenish his energy. His fur was covered in mud, and gravel was embedded in the cracks between his claws, but he was still full of energy.

At this moment, Caesars was spreading a yellowed animal hide map on the grass. The fat dog came over and carefully rubbed the edge of the map with its wet nose, carefully identifying the markings on it.

"Bread, you're digging in a straight line." Caesars used a branch to draw a mark on the map. "According to this direction, we should be able to reach the underground of the noble district." He patted the fat dog's muddy head. "Let's go to the Holy Seal City tonight and do some shopping. Now empty the dirt in the storage ring first, we'll need to put a lot of goodies in it later!"

In the afterglow of the setting sun, Caesars put away his map and squinted at the towering city walls in the distance. Smoke from the dinner stove was rising from the camp. Soon, it would be time for them to show their skills.

After a simple dinner, dusk quietly enveloped the earth. Caesars crouched down and followed the portly demon dog into the dark cave. The scent of damp earth greeted him, and a sneer curled his lips. Tonight, those pampered nobles of Holy Seal City were in for a rude awakening.

The tunnel stretched in a straight line, seemingly endless. After walking for over twenty minutes, Caesars paused at the end of the passage. He gathered a strand of black magic from his fingertips and etched a small hole in the earth above him. Several translucent magical tentacles emerged from the hole, swaying gently in the night like jellyfish tentacles. Through the perception of the tentacles, he confirmed that the exit lay in the back garden of a noble mansion—beneath the meticulously manicured flowers.

"Bread, we are in the nobleman's garden."

Caesars chuckled softly, the fat dog twirling excitedly at his feet. For a superbeast and a mage, plundering aristocratic mansions was child's play. They roamed the ornately carved mansions with impunity, snatching up every ounce of gold, silver, and treasure in their path, not to mention the delicacies in the storerooms.

The soul gem in Caesar's hand gradually glowed, a surge of collected soul energy. He would mercifully wave his hand to the trembling women and children, allowing them to live; but the nobles and guards were not so lucky. With each enemy he defeated, he remembered the ruthless Valkyrie of the Roland Empire—she would never show mercy to betrayers.

"Bread, stop it! Don't set the fire. We will be going into the city in a few days. If this place is burned down, where will we live?" Caesars shouted hurriedly, while reaching out to pat the fat dog's back and pinching the fat dog's big mouth with one hand. The high-level magic pattern on its body was emitting red light.

The fat dog, with its mouth pinched, hummed in dissatisfaction, but quickly blinked its round eyes and swung its tail to show its agreement. The light of the magic pattern on its back gradually dimmed.

"Come on, Bread! Let's go to the castle next door!"

A sly look flashed in Caesar's eyes, and he turned and rushed towards the door. The fat dog immediately became energetic and ran after him with all its four short legs, its flesh trembling as it ran.

As dawn broke in the east, Caesars had returned to the stream beside camp. The cool water washed over his dusty face and arms, washing away the fatigue of a night's travels. In a clearing not far away, a fat dog rolled excitedly on the ground, completely unconcerned that its freshly washed fur was now covered in dead leaves and dirt. Around its neck hung three or four newly looted storage rings, each stuffed to the brim—fragrant roast suckling pig, golden and crispy fried chicken, and a variety of exquisite snacks he couldn't name, enough to keep it gorging for a year or two.

The morning mist hadn't yet dissipated, but the aristocratic district of Holy Seal City was already in a state of panic. Those nobles who had narrowly escaped the looting frantically loaded their valuables onto carriages, while noblewomen, wrapped in gauze cloaks, glanced back in fear. They didn't even bother to count their possessions, leaving servants to strewn scattered jewels across the cobblestone courtyard. The shrewdest families had quietly left the city before dawn, leaving only their open gates swaying gently in the morning breeze.

A strange atmosphere enveloped the entire Holy Seal City. The defenders on the city walls remained awake all night, their armor gleaming coldly in the morning light, their gazes unsettled. The patrols in the Noble Quarter were twice as numerous as usual, yet the soldiers' spears were always unsteady. In stark contrast, the morning market was bustling with activity: the bread vendors were exceptionally enthusiastic, while the apprentices in the blacksmith shop huddled together, whispering to each other. A drunken old peasant even sang the Valkyrie's hymn in the street, earning angry glares from the patrols, but no one dared to intervene.

Caesars pushed his wet hair back, letting water drip down his neck and into his linen shirt. He sat under an ancient oak tree, his fingertips unconsciously stroking the rough lines of the bark.

From the east of Holy Seal City, the sound of galloping carriages echoed, stirring up dust on the road. These fleeing nobles were like sheep being driven by wolves, and their only destination, Saint Laurent—the capital city renowned for its high white walls—would soon become a crowded sheepfold. Caesars, thinking this, understood Vivian's intentions. He tilted his head back and drank a glass of ale, which shone amber in the morning sun.

The fat dog burped contentedly, swaying its chubby body as it leisurely strolled under the shade of a tree. It rolled over comfortably beside Caesars, revealing its furry belly. Caesars pulled a few pieces of hard cheese from his pack and, washing them down with the water in his leather pouch, quickly finished his breakfast. He unfolded the wrinkled map of Saint Laurent and traced his fingertips over the ink-stained occupied areas. Nearly half the territory had been hoisted under the flag of the Roland Empire. The vast, fertile fields surrounding Gasloo were now deserted, and the once-glorious Saint Laurent Empire now huddled on the shattered map.

Just as Caesars had predicted, as he and Fat Dog set fire and looted throughout Holy Seal City, panic spread like a plague through the streets. Every dawn, nobles, accompanied by their families, could be seen flooding toward the city gates. Even the defenders on the battlements dropped their spears and joined the throng fleeing toward the imperial capital. Trampled boots and scattered bundles paved the official road like a road sign leading to ruin.

As the sun rose on the tenth day, the heavy city gates were unexpectedly pushed open by civilians. The cavalry of the Roland Legion marched through the undefended city walls and, without a single bloodshed, gently plucked the final jewel from Saint Laurent's crown and placed it in a trophy box.

The Holy City, a city occupied by the Church for millennia, was now shrouded in unprecedented panic. When news reached the city of Roland's Legion, which had swept across half the city with overwhelming force, a deathly silence descended upon the city. The church bells ceased to ring, and the once devout believers in the streets hurried, their eyes filled with fear. No one could have imagined that a Valkyrie, dead for millennia, could be resurrected, sweeping across the Holy Roland Empire in a matter of months. Now, her army was at the gates. The Holy City's fall seemed inevitable.

The Empire's eagle-eyed assassins lurked like ghosts outside the Holy City. They silently sealed all exits, leaving only a cruel rule: Church members could enter, but those who emerged would be killed in a pool of blood. The paladins patrolling the city walls clenched their swords, unsure where the enemy lay. Fear spread like a plague, leaving even the most devout bishops tossing and turning in the night.

Meanwhile, far away in Fire Maple City, the old emperor was overcome with excitement, unable to sleep. The lights in his chambers burned throughout the night. Standing by the window, gazing at the gradually brightening sky in the east, he could already see the flags of the Roland Empire planted across every corner of the continent. The humiliation of being publicly slapped by the Valkyrie Vivian had long been forgotten—or rather, he had forced himself to forget. Vivian's sword had once slain two incompetent monarchs, and at the time, the House of Nobles and ministers were incredibly supportive of her, her prestige surpassing that of the entire imperial family.

Inside the Roland Legion's central tent, candlelight stretched the generals' figures into long shadows. High-ranking commanders and imperial officials gathered around a strategic sand table, heated arguments swirling. On the sand table, models of Saint Laurent City and the Holy City faced each other, symbolizing two distinct offensive directions.

"We must capture the Holy City first!" A veteran general, a veteran of hundreds of battles, slammed the table and said, "The core strength of the Church lies there. As long as we capture the Holy City, Saint Laurent City will fall without a fight!"

"Ridiculous!" a middle-aged man dressed as a civil servant immediately retorted, "The key is Saint Laurent City. To capture the thief, you must first capture the leader. Doesn't the general understand this principle?"

The argument intensified until a cold female voice broke the deadlock. Vivian, who had been sitting quietly nearby, slowly rose to her feet, her silver-gray leather armor gleaming coldly in the candlelight. "First, take the Holy City." Her voice was quiet, but it instantly quieted the entire tent. "This time, we'll surround the three city gates. Aside from civilians, we don't need to take any prisoners."

An intelligence officer wiped the sweat from his forehead and cautiously reminded, "Lady Vivian, there aren't many civilians in the Holy City."

The Valkyrie's lips curled up in an icy smile. "That's perfect. The Roland Empire doesn't need that city anyway, so we can destroy it together." As soon as she finished speaking, the temperature in the tent seemed to drop sharply. No one dared to object, because everyone knew that when the Valkyrie made a decision, any opposition would be pale and powerless.