The Golden Lord has a perverted SSS-rank summoning system! Chapter 162: Only your Lord needs to die!

Aerick could clearly sense the power of that potion.

It wasn’t sothing ordinary, nor was it sothing that could ever fall into the hands of an ordinary person.

In that mont, now calr, he finally picked up on the auras of everyone around him.

Doran, Alice, Evelyn, and Ethan.

He was surrounded by three third-stage warriors and a third-stage mage...

He had already lost this battle, even if he managed to kill Ethan.

"Why?" he asked, his voice hoarse and broken with pain.

"Because I am a greedy man. I recognize your talent, and also your son’s talent."

Ethan spoke coldly, his narrowed eyes fixed on Aerick’s.

"Don’t force to break down those gates and conquer Windre with blood."

"Drink this potion, heal yourself, and swear eternal loyalty to ."

Aerick hesitated.

He didn’t want that.

He didn’t want to beco a re servant.

Power coiled in his fist, tightening, ready to snatch the potion from Ethan’s hand and smash it against the ground in one final act of defiance.

It was at that mont that the voice of reason struck him.

Well, the voice of his wife.

"AERICK! BY THE NINE, IF YOU DON’T ACCEPT THIS, I’LL SLIT MY OWN THROAT RIGHT HERE!" The woman roared, her words fracturing as thick tears stread down her cheeks. "Think of our little Luke... he deserves better!"

Aerick froze.

His teeth clenched so hard his jaw ached, and then, slowly, he moved.

He grabbed the potion.

He pulled off the lid with a sharp click.

Without hesitation, he tipped it into his mouth.

The liquid rushed cold down his throat, and in the next mont, an absurd healing power spread through his body, rging with the healing spell Alice was casting on him from a distance.

The open wound in his stomach closed quickly, torn flesh drawing itself back together.

Drained of strength, he collapsed forward, arms trembling as his hands sank into the damp earth.

Aerick’s wife seed on the verge of jumping for joy at the sight of the hole in her husband’s belly vanishing, replaced by clear skin, almost free of the marks of age.

"What are you waiting for? Swear your loyalty to , Aerick Windre."

Ethan’s voice echoed, cold and firm, and Aerick shuddered, lowering his head.

"I, Aerick Windre, before the Nine, swear my eternal loyalty to Ethan Goldenveil! May his eternal glory fall upon us all!"

Aerick’s roar rolled across the stones, and his n on the wall, even without aning to, fell to their knees.

"Good. Prepare your people, for soon they will be integrated into Goldenveil."

"Integrated?" Aerick’s eyes widened.

Wasn’t Ethan just looking for a vassal to pay him tribute?

"You’ll understand when you arrive in Goldenveil." Ethan smiled, a sharp, enigmatic curl of his lips. "Twenty of my guards will stay to accompany you. I’ll deal with Silverbrook now and will be back before dawn."

Aerick shuddered, his eyes dropping to the ground as Ethan casually turned his back on him.

"Why do you trust ? Why turn your back on a man you know wants to kill you?"

"You couldn’t kill , even if you wanted to. And you wouldn’t kill , even if you wanted to or could."

Ethan spoke as he pulled a second item from his inventory.

"Because now, you owe your life."

He tossed it across the open ground: a golden pill, the last Rank S talent enhancent pill.

He didn’t do it for no reason, nor just to win Aerick over.

He did it because the mont Aerick accepted him as his lord, Ethan could see his loyalty.

Eighty points.

A naturally loyal man, even to an enemy. A man who would gladly die for his Lord.

Ethan made a few quick arrangents, selected twenty guards, and then left, leaving Aerick alone on the ground, staring at the pill resting in the palm of his hand.

Now, he owed his life to Ethan...

Aerick brought the pill to his mouth and swallowed it, feeling the change in his talent at once, like a warm wave coursing through his veins.

At that mont, with steady eyes, he stood up.

He looked at his wife, and then smiled.

Aerick needed to rest a little, but first, he needed to prepare his people for the journey to Goldenveil.

***

anwhile, Ethan and his army quickened their pace toward Silverbrook.

All along the way, the young Lord received Alice’s care and recovery spells, along with a few stamina potions that burned bitter down his throat.

By the ti they drew close to Silverbrook, so adventurers had already fled through the back of Windre, running straight to warn the neighboring city of the attack.

When Ethan reached the palisades of Silverbrook, the defenders were already in position, staring him down with steely gazes.

Their Lord, atop the wall, was worthy of every ounce of contempt Ethan harbored for him.

Even at that mont, his belly was exposed.

Such arrogance.

He didn’t even have the decency to equip armor and prepare himself.

"You? Who the hell are you? Get out of here! Better yet, get out and leave one of those two whores by your side for !"

The Lord of Silverbrook roared, his enormous belly swaying grotesquely as he took a step forward.

Ethan’s eyes grew cold at those words, and he turned to Alice.

"Darling, make yourself at ho."

Alice smiled, extending a single finger.

A fireball blood at its tip, growing to over two ters in diater before tearing through the air with a flaming roar, the heat warping everything in its path.

Realizing the danger, Lord Silverbrook leaped from the wall, hiding behind the more than five hundred soldiers he had stationed in front of the fortification.

From children to the elderly, no one escaped.

When Alice’s fireball smashed through the gates in a deafening explosion, three figures burst from the flas.

Evelyn’s axe crashed to the ground with a heavy thud, killing two outright and knocking down five more.

Doran’s sword shattered a shield and opened another man’s throat, and with a powerful aura slash, he cut down three more in an arc of steel and light, thin red lines spraying from the wound.

In the next mont, more than two hundred and eighty Goldenveil soldiers stord the city, their solid formation crashing into Silverbrook’s crumbling ranks.

Soon, screams of pain and despair filled the air, mingling with the clang of clashing blades, the ground painted red by the blood trickling between the stones.

Ethan ignored it all, his eyes fixed solely on Lord Silverbrook.

"People of Silverbrook, you must not flee, for we have co here as liberators, not butchers! Lower your swords! Only your Lord needs to die!"

Ethan’s voice tore through the chaos as he cut a path toward Silverbrook.