Chapter 228: The Agreement

"Even if mortals exert all their efforts, they might still not be a match for the Chaos armies. If necessary, Nagash could resurrect all the undead in this world, giving us a fighting chance," the Lady of the Lake said with her eyes closed. "So, my original plan was, if needed, I could sacrifice the interests of mortals to resurrect Nagash."

"That's a terrible idea," Ryan said, filled with disappointment. But he also felt helpless; even his father, the Emperor, had been forced to cooperate with the spirits of the dead after being resurrected: "But sometimes, that's just how things are... However, my lady..."

"Still calling me lady?!" The Lady of the Lake glared at Ryan unfavorably, putting down the Holy Grail and walking up to him.

"Er... Lady Lillith..." Ryan awkwardly said.

"It's Lillith!" The Lady of the Lake tapped Ryan's shoulder with her hand.

"Alright... Lillith, what I meant to say is, perhaps you don't need to seek help from the undead, especially not from Nagash. Nagash and the vampires he created are creatures of duplicity, known throughout history for countless betrayals. These despicable and untrustworthy creatures are not to be trusted," Ryan said, touching his chin, dismissing the Lady of the Lake's suggestion.

"But without them, mortal forces might not stand against the Chaos armies," the Lady of the Lake fixed her gaze on Ryan. "However, Ryan, after meeting you, I changed my mind. Your existence proves that we are not alone in fighting Chaos, right?"

Ryan didn't respond; he just nodded lightly.

"Great!" The clouds in the Lady of the Lake's eyes cleared, and she joyfully hugged him, planting a kiss on his face: "Indeed, you are the best gift the sub-space has given me. That fool, the White Wolf Ulric, had no idea how to use you."

"Don't be too pleased, my lady... Lillith. If you cannot create specific conditions for me, I also cannot summon reinforcements," Ryan lifted the Lady of the Lake onto himself, looking at her radiant beauty as if reminded of something, he teasingly said: "I heard from the woodland lord Dalina that on the nights of the new moon, Alaros would take his beloved falcon to patrol the woodland, hoping to meet the beautiful goddess Lillith again~"

The Champion's voice carried an indescribable tone.

"Ah!" The Lady of the Lake sighed helplessly, covering her face with her hand. Sitting on Ryan's lap, she shook her head in frustration: "I really don't know what to say about this, Alaros really... After waking up, he went around telling everyone about our meeting and how he saved me. Over time, almost all the wood elves knew about Alaros's relationship with me. At first, they thought Alaros was delusional, but as rumors wildly spread, you know, my champion, the Asrai usually remain hidden in the forest, leading long and dull lives. At night, gathering around a campfire and telling stories is one of their few pleasures."

"I can understand... Hahaha!" Ryan couldn't help but laugh out loud, his eyes squinting together, shamelessly covering his face and laughing loudly.

The Lady of the Lake felt very embarrassed but ended up laughing herself.

Indeed, in the long lives of the wood elves, apart from war and festivals, they rarely contact the outside world, making their lives quite dull. Ryan could imagine how the story of him and Alaros was endlessly modified by the wood elves around the campfire until it became something else entirely.

"Just as you imagined, Ryan, the story of Alaros and me was gradually twisted into a mess, with rumors of divine marriages, acts of gratitude leading to wild encounters in the woods, and even more salacious rumors spreading. Of course, all the wood elves knew it wasn't true; they were just using this as a way to mock Alaros's inappropriate desires," the Lady of the Lake sipped from her wine glass on the table: "Alaros never really understood my intention. After he chose to become Aleriel's chosen champion, he could no longer be mine."

"In the end, it's because you broke the agreement first. Before Alaros became the chosen champion of Queen Aleriel, you had already appointed me as your chosen champion," Ryan pointed out the Lady of the Lake's unethical actions.

"Now that I have you, I no longer need Alaros, my champion," the Lady of the Lake shook her head. "In every way, you are superior to Alaros. You can easily supply me with the energy to freely enter and exit the material world, possess great will and strength, and are the bane of Chaos corruption. With you and Tigris, it's enough."

"What's your opinion on Duke Berleon possibly hoarding Nagash's nine books?" Ryan changed the subject, his expression unchanged.

"Divine matters belong to the gods, and mortal affairs to mortals. It's not my place to intervene in matters beyond the king and Morgiana, but I will closely monitor the progress of this affair," the Lady of the Lake continued to arrange everything, her pink lips moving delicately: "Go ahead and do what you must, my champion. I am your solid backing."

"Then I need to unify the nation's power to face the possible third Chaos invasion soon, even if I wish to become... is that all right?" Ryan spoke seriously.

"Of course! Why do you think I came to the Old World? Why do I perform miracles here? Because I need an army loyal to me, I need my own power," the Lady of the Lake whispered: "Among the high elves, the most elite forces belong to their respective gods; the Swordmasters of Hoeth belong to Hoeth, the Phoenix Guard to Asuryan, the Handmaidens of the Everqueen to Isha, and the Dragon Princes of Caledor only believe in themselves. What I have are the Grail Knights."

"Go ahead, Ryan. Greater territories, higher titles are for you to strive for. I have paved the way for you and will support you until you achieve your goals," the Lady of the Lake whispered softly in Ryan's ear: "In the future, you will be the father of the new Asuryan... This is our agreement between you and me."

"I don't seem to have agreed..."

"You must agree! Because you are my champion!" The Lady of the Lake suddenly straddled Ryan, grabbing his collar, her aquamarine eyes full of dangerous aura, her immense divine power being released: "I have already given up my plan because of your arrival, what more do you want from me?"

As the Lady of the Lake and the elven goddess of dreams and luck, Lillith's reserve of divine power was comparable to the elven main gods, even stronger than many human gods. Her divine majesty could shatter ancient beasts.

But it had no effect on Ryan.

"That's because your plan was flawed from the start! Lillith, I'm just pointing out your mistakes," Ryan held the Lady of the Lake's soft hands, speaking helplessly: "Whether or not I appeared, your plan was doomed to fail."

"I don't care, I chose you, and you chose me. It's the choice of fate, Ryan. This is our agreement," the Lady of the Lake pressed her finger against Ryan's chest, where the Grail emblem glowed, her divine fire burning brightly, illuminating her radiant beauty. "I have foreseen it, fate has bound us together, inseparable, and to part is to face destruction."

"Can I trust you, my lady?" Ryan finally got serious.

Indeed, as the Lady of the Lake said, their alliance seemed to be the most beneficial choice at the moment. She had shown her greatest sincerity, revealing her divine fire, representing the essence of a deity. If Ryan were a despicable person, with the Lady of the Lake's limited combat abilities, he could even seize Lillith's divine fire.

Moreover, Ryan knew he could not wait any longer.

Having been in this world for twenty-three years, he had risen from an adopted son of a lord to a baron. From the perspective of this world, his rise was meteoric, but he didn't have another twenty-three years!

...

This year, the winter in Brittany was especially cold, especially in the Duke of Connacht's territory. The land, ravaged by floods, now began a long and arduous reconstruction. The power of the vampire counts had been severely damaged in this war.

This thwarted the plan of the Red Duke, the great former Duke of Aquitaine, now a vampire leader, who had planned to emerge with his forces during the war between the Kingdom of Knights and the beastmen to reclaim his throne.

The Red Duke's plan was stopped by a mysterious visitor, who told him, just like your many wars before, you will face a painful defeat this time.

"You know who I am, Red Duke."

Yes, the Red Duke knew who he was. He was the most loyal servant of Nagash, the Lord of the Dead, the Lichemaster "Black" Arkhan.

Using his powerful necromancy, Arkhan awakened and enslaved the spirits of twelve Grail Knights. They were bound by Arkhan's necromancy, except for one Grail Knight's spirit who managed to break free and escape. The remaining eleven Grail Knight spirits were incorporated into the undead army, receiving a new title—the Black Grail Knights.

With his power, Arkhan had gained the trust of the Red Duke. On the high tower of Musillon Castle in the dead of winter, vampires and undead were discussing their next move.

Arkhan, wearing a huge crown and holding a massive staff of the dead with green necromantic flames, appeared as a venerable elder. Despite being undead and a skeletal frame, he was dressed in luxurious elven silk robes and exquisite rune armor.

In contrast, the Red Duke wore black and red full-body cursed plate armor, holding the ancestral sword passed down from the Dukes of Aquitaine. His sunken eye sockets, pale face, rotting nose, and protruding cheekbones all indicated he was a vampire.

Golden goblets filled with delicious young girl's blood, the Red Duke lifted his goblet and drank the blood in one gulp, savoring the wonderful sensation of the blood washing over his throat.

That was called happiness.

Absent-mindedly, the Red Duke looked at the goblet in his hand, seemingly remembering, countless years ago, when he was still human, when he was still a duke, he seemed to be pursuing something similar. Back then, he didn't rely on human blood to live. He was once a paragon of chivalry, he once...

"Clang!" The goblet filled with gems was fiercely smashed on the steps of the castle tower. The happiness hard-earned was filled with jealousy and rage. The Red Duke, sealed by the Lake Witch, spent centuries in impotent fury in a tomb. Now, he sought revenge against the kingdom.

The smashed goblet caught the attention of Arkhan, who was whispering with his adopted son, Mathieu Bard. The Lichemaster, ever polite, said, "Our most respected and trusted friend, my duke, what has displeased you? May I know?"

"Now, who do we kill?" The Red Duke, filled with rage, stood up ready to summon his army: "You say who, and we'll kill them!"

Bats fluttered their wings near the high tower, their sharp, unpleasant cries entering the tower. After taking over Musillon, the Red Duke once tried to make the castle as luxurious and magnificent as his previous abode. However, as time passed, the Red Duke lost interest in maintaining this false glory. Now these areas were overtaken by faded tapestries, rusted armor, and dense cobwebs.

"Patience, my friend," Arkhan gently shook his head, a small spell calming the Red Duke: "It's not yet time. Patience is a virtue and a necessary means to victory."

"When can we act?" The Red Duke asked impatiently: "I've waited long enough."

"Soon, my duke," Arkhan also descended the steps, observing the twisted and corrupt underbelly of bustling Musillon: "We need to wait until spring arrives, the ice melts. Otherwise, by ourselves, we ultimately cannot accomplish anything. The rule of the Lady of the Lake over this kingdom is deeply entrenched. The existence of the Grail Knights deters all hidden enemies, including us."

"Waiting till spring won't change the situation!" the Red Duke continued.

"It will... and we also need a collaborator," Arkhan said, looking up into the sky.

The sky, obscured by dark clouds, saw a huge zombie dragon soaring in.

Riding on the dragon's back was a bald man, bare-armed, holding an ancient cursed sword in one hand and a scythe in the other, his smooth head devoid of any hair, only trembling scalp, pale skin, and a pair of silver eyes.

Arkhan nodded lightly; all vampires were Nagash's kin, unable to resist Nagash, just as the Grail Knights wouldn't oppose the Lady of the Lake.

"Finally... Manfred von Carstein."

"The master needs your power."

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