Chapter 341 - 248: The Demon’s Appearance

Strictly speaking, Mier and his men were not qualified to be seated; they should have been standing guard at the perimeter with the other Knights. However, they were the ones who had conquered Black Stone Castle and captured its leader, the Lion Hunter Knight. No one was about to nitpick while their star was burning so brightly.

As Liya took her seat, the Lord—clad in exquisite Leather Armor and fine Deer Hide Hunting Boots, one hand resting on the hilt of his Treasure Sword—stood guard beside her.

The scene was reminiscent of a millennium ago, when the Dawn Sword Saint Desco stood guard beside Empress Cersei Wei, facing down her many Ministers.

Once everyone had finally arrived, a burly, imposing man clad in heavy Gilded Plate Armor and a Red Cloak strode to the center of the great hall.

He had short blond hair and a resolute face, yet his smile was as warm as a spring breeze. He seemed to perpetually exude an air of convincing charisma.

"I know that two factions in this room are at odds with each other, and that countless lives have been lost and much blood has been shed here because of it."

His voice was deep and solemn. He scanned the room before continuing.

"The King’s command is for both sides to cease hostilities. However, I have no intention of forcing this, as I know it would accomplish nothing but to stoke your fury."

"So, are you asking us to let bygones be bygones and live happily ever after in peace and harmony?"

Fulina spoke, her tone dripping with scorn.

However, the Lord noticed that she had used a respectful title when addressing the burly, middle-aged man in the center of the hall, a towering figure well over two blades in height.

Before Levi could even begin to speculate on the man’s identity, Fulina spoke again, providing the answer.

"Even if you were once my teacher, you cannot stop me from rescuing my sister and taking back what belongs to her daughter."

"Fulina, I have no intention of stopping this war, for I know this conflict is irreconcilable." A hint of resignation crossed the man’s face.

"Then why are you here?" Fulina pressed, her tone aggressive.

"This meeting isn’t about living in harmony," Lancelot stressed, before continuing, "it’s for the sake of all of Debei!"

"We are all facing the same threat."

"If you’re talking about the Lizardmen from the White Bone Fortress to the south, then you can go back to enjoying your retirement in the Cloud Tower," Fulina said. "Once I’ve dealt with my sister’s situation, I’ll lead my army south and take care of those Half-Beastmen myself."

"It is far more serious than that, Fulina," Lancelot sighed. "This is a power that does not negotiate. It commands an army that devours all flesh and soul."

"Do you know why Damon hasn’t shown up yet?"

"Because he’s locked in a desperate battle with this army at the White Bone Fortress. He’s losing, retreating at every turn. That’s why he sent a plea for help to the Royal Court."

He stepped closer, fixing his gaze on his former Swordsmanship student. "You know how proud Damon, that Rogue Knight, is. He would never ask for outside help unless the situation were unimaginably dire."

"He said in his letter that if the White Bone Fortress falls, the enemy will scour every living creature from the Southern Territory within half a month. By then, the disaster will have become an ineradicable blight."

Fulina’s brow furrowed. She knew a great deal about the younger brother of the Old Duke of the South. She knew Lancelot was not given to fearmongering.

But it was impossible to persuade her with words alone. Her gaze shifted to Cross, seated below.

"So this is the solution the Southern Territory came up with? You find a negotiator, get us to agree to a truce, and then once it’s all over, you go back to holding your fortress?"

"Lady Fulina, no words can erase the conflict between our sides, but I can prove Lord Lancelot is not a negotiator I hired," Cross said, rising from his chair and moving to the center of the hall. "In fact, ever since you began your campaign south, Damon had already deployed his forces at Black Stone Castle. But a message crow arrived from the White Bone Fortress, forcing him to move his main army south again."

"To this day, we have only received messages from him through a Communication Magic Stone."

"And the content of those messages is utterly bone-chilling!"

"Therefore, if Lady Fulina is willing to agree to a truce, we are prepared to release Lady Onaya as a sign of our sincerity." Marquis Cross sniffled. His stamina had declined with age, and after spending half a day in the frigid Water Prison, he had inevitably caught a chill.

"How is my mother?" Liya couldn’t help but ask.

"Please do not worry. Other than her restricted freedom, Lady Onaya is still living in her former residence, attended by her personal servants," Marquis Cross said, glancing at the Lion Hunter Knight beside the young lady.

This allowed Liya to breathe a sigh of relief.

Cross continued.

"You may think we are using Lady Onaya as a hostage. You may even curse me as a despicable coward. But if it achieves a truce, then I will gladly be that despicable coward."

"Whatever comes next, be it a court-martial or worse, I will not shrink from it."

At that moment, he bore no resemblance to Cross the famous general, but rather looked like a humble old man, pleading.

The true reason for Marquis Cross’s behavior stemmed from a conversation he’d had before sunset.

Lancelot, commander of the Griffin Knight Order, had met with him privately. The contents of their conversation, which took place over a single cup of tea, had sent a chill down the spine of even this old veteran of countless campaigns.

Both men knew that neither of them could persuade Fulina alone, which is why they had coordinated their efforts beforehand.

Fortunately, as commander of the Griffin Knight Order and Fulina’s former teacher, Lancelot had not been barred from entering the Water Prison, which had allowed the two men to meet.

"Fulina, I have something to show you. Once you have seen it, you will understand everything." Lancelot went to the last empty seat at the high table, sat down, and clapped his hands. "Bring it in."

CLANK, CLANK~

Following a series of sharp, metallic sounds, all eyes turned to the hall’s entrance.

A Griffin Knight, a man nearly as large as Lancelot himself, was walking in slowly, a heavy iron chest on his back.

The sound of chains rattling against metal came from within.

He stopped seven or eight blades’ distance from Fulina’s group, took a deep breath, and slowly set down the chest. Then he began to pull out three thick locking pins.

Then, with a wary expression, he moved behind the chest. He grabbed hold of a chain and gave the chest a hard kick!

ROAR!

A piercing shriek echoed through the castle hall as a blood-red figure scrambled out of the chest and charged madly toward Liya.

Liya’s face went pale with fright. She stood frozen, until a towering figure stepped in front of her.

"Fuck, what kind of Undead thing is this?"

The Lord swore, kicking the creature and sending it flying back.

He hadn’t even dared to use much force, afraid he might kick it to pieces.

It all happened so fast that by the time anyone could react, the blood-red figure had already slammed into the Griffin Knight. The tremendous force sent both of them to the floor, rolling together in a heap.

The creature instantly changed its target and began attacking the Griffin Knight on the ground.

"So hungry... Flesh! Flesh! I want to eat flesh!"

It shrieked in a crazed, yet recognizable, common tongue.

Though the speech was guttural and clumsy, everyone present understood.

The terrified Griffin Knight scrambled and grappled with the creature. Finally, unable to watch any longer, the Count of Monvert strode forward and kicked it away. This gave the Griffin Knight the chance to get up and quickly pin the creature to the ground.

Only then did the assembled nobles get a clear look at it.

The creature snarling and struggling on the floor had dark crimson skin, like a flayed man. Thick, red, ox-like horns grew from its temples. Its face was demonic, with savage, protruding fangs.

Its hands and feet ended in sharp claws, and a long tail thrashed behind it.

It was about 1.7 blades tall and thin-framed, yet the burly Griffin Knight—a man of two full blades in height—was clearly using all his strength to hold it down, his forehead already slick with sweat.

"It’s a Demon!" Leiden cried out, drawing sideways glances from the others.