Gareth reached up to touch his neck—and imdiately panicked.
His armor had been crafted with utmost care by the bone dragon clan. It was top-tier enchanted armor that was close to the level of an artifact.
But his helt was sothing he had cobbled together himself, buckled on as re decoration. Even the glow of the soulfire within was purely costic. It had originally been ant as a disguise so that he could pass for a death knight while away from ho.
But that last Sacred Slash had been so violent that its shockwave had blown the helt clean off.
Flustered, Gareth hurriedly reattached the helt. The fight had been fierce, and there weren't any spectators nearby, but if anyone had seen him clearly, if word spread that he was a headless knight, his wife would inevitably find out.
He'd have to weld the helt directly onto his neck. There was no room for mistakes.
Watching Gareth panic, Ambrose couldn't help but feel embarrassed about hiding the truth from him.
Though Black Rose hadn't provided much detail, it was clear enough that she had likely tead up with Gareth's wife to hunt down her runaway husband. Otherwise, it was impossible for her to know so much about the paladins' movents.
For all he knew, the two of them might be watching Gareth even now.
Marriage truly was a grave, one so deep that even the undead wanted to escape it.
Ambrose then turned his gaze back toward the Iron Slag. By now, it had been completely annihilated by the shockwaves from the battle, reduced to ruins that matched the prophecy perfectly.
The first prophecy had co true, though Ambrose had originally assud the tavern would be destroyed when the bone dragon caught her husband in the act.
Instead, it had been wrecked by the clash between Gareth and Starfall.
In that case, had he also misunderstood the prophecy regarding his severed head?
Lost in thought, Ambrose hauled the dying Starfall out of the crater.
Though Starfall had nearly burned through his entire lifespan, years of relentless training had left his body just strong enough to cling to life. He had, however, lost all ability to resist. This was perfect. Living paladins were valuable, whereas dead ones could only be sold for their souls.
Ambrose deftly stripped Starfall of all his equipnt and stuffed it into his extradinsional storage pouch. But when he removed the silver-white helt from Starfall's head, his hands were instantly scorched. Smoke rose from his skin.
Ignoring the pain, Ambrose used a Mage Hand to lift the helt free. After examining it, he exclaid in delight, "Incredible holy power. What a treasure!"
He didn't yet know that this was a replica of the Crown of Dawn, but he could clearly sense the divine force within it. This was unquestionably an item worth a fortune.
He stored it away without hesitation, then turned to Starfall and said, "Well? If you want to avoid needless casualties, why not cooperate and persuade your companions to surrender?"
That earlier eruption of holy light must have alerted the other paladins. Ambrose could feel them racing toward the scene. Gareth was powerful, but if the fighting continued, half of Alkhemia might be destroyed, and those lunatics would seize the chance to stir up trouble.
Starfall was so weak he could not even move a finger, yet upon hearing Ambrose's words, he still replied with unwavering resolve, "We... have never feared death... The holy light... will guide us... to the divine realm."
"Tch. I knew you'd say that."
No sooner had Ambrose spoken than several more flares of holy light appeared at the far end of the long street. Starfall's companions had arrived.
All nine paladins who remained had shown up.
Ambrose bound and sealed Starfall several tis over, then cast a portal to send him straight back to the castle. He was deposited into a cage that Ambrose had prepared long in advance.
By then, the nine paladins were already shouting invocations to the holy light as they charged toward Ambrose and Gareth.
The soulfire in Ambrose's eyes condensed into pinpricks as he shouted to Gareth, "End this quickly. Finish them off before the alchemists lose patience."
Gareth fastened his warped helt back into place. "Cover . Don't let anyone see."
Ambrose coughed. Should he tell Gareth about the fact that his wife already knew?
Still, he complied, casting a spell that sealed off the entire district and completely cut it off from external perception.
Celestial steeds were astonishingly fast. Though the paladins had been several hundred ters away, they arrived in the blink of an eye. The paladins' swords were already blazing with holy light, poised to annihilate Gareth.
Then they realized far too late just how naive they were.
Gareth slamd his fist into the ground. The terrifying force shattered the earth, sending shockwaves and flying debris surging forward with overwhelming montum.
The nine paladins imdiately adjusted their formation, their holy light rging into a massive shield that barely blocked the attack.
They were unhard, but their charge was slowed.
Gareth's punch had not truly been an attack. Dark magic flowed from Gareth's fist into the earth as he inscribed an enormous magic circle.
Before the paladins' stunned eyes, a magnificently built giant eight-legged horse leapt out of the circle.
Gareth sprang high and landed astride it in midair. The mount was enormous enough to bear his four-ter-tall fra. When its hooves struck the ground, each step felt like an earthquake.
Gray smoke billowed from the beast's nostrils. Its eyes burned with raging soulfire. Its dark olive-colored body was covered in dense dragon scales: this was clearly an undead mount custom-made for him by the bone dragon clan.
After all, what was a Dullahan without a steed?
Ambrose watched with naked envy. Being supported by a rich patron really was amazing. His entire fortune might not be enough to pay for such a mount.
Gareth pulled the reins and said excitedly, "It's been a long ti since you got to stretch your legs, huh? Let's warm up a little today!"
His chained blade snapped taut, transforming into a knight's lance more than ten ters long. This was Gareth's true weapon. The chain-blade had been nothing but a disguise—he had been afraid his wife might recognize him.
There was no ti to play pretend any longer.
The eight-legged giant horse reared up, all eight limbs pounding in unison as it charged toward the paladins.
The ground shook like a landslide. Gareth and his mount together weighed over a thousand tons, enough to smash straight through Alkhemia's city walls.
As they charged, both rider and steed were wreathed in dark magic, leaving only corruption and destruction in their wake.
Chains of protection, divine blessings, shields, guardian auras—no matter how many defensive miracles the paladins layered upon themselves, none of it ant anything before the charging Gareth.
Ambrose watched as all nine paladins were sent flying by a single charge. They collapsed upon hitting the ground, unable to stand back up. Every one of them suffered full-body fractures. The holy light on their bodies had dimd, and even their armor had been heavily corroded by dark magic. It rusted like scrap iron.
It made Ambrose's heart ache. Those sets of armor, stripped and sold, would have been worth a fortune. The Dullahan really had no sense of economy.
Still, Gareth had held back. He knew Ambrose wanted them alive, so he had restrained himself during the charge. All nine paladins were crippled, but all of them had survived.
That, at least, was so consolation. Yet Ambrose felt sowhat puzzled.
Why hadn't these remaining paladins burned their lifespan to forcibly strengthen themselves?
Even ordinary mortals could sacrifice life for strength. Surely they knew how as well.
Or were there specific conditions required?
Ambrose shook his head and pushed his curiosity aside. A scholar's habits were ill-suited to the mont. The paladins were dealt with. Now ca the real priority—it was ti to negotiate with Alkhemia.
Was that wish-granting machine they guarded so closely truly as miraculous as rumored?
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