Chapter 304: The Hypocritical Minor God (Second Release!)

PS: The northern barbarians revere four gods, each person deeply venerates one of the four Chaos Gods. It doesn't mean that a tribe primarily worshipping the god of terror lacks sorcerers.

When Egil and several dozen Skarlings Chaos warriors stepped into the village now reduced to ruins, a message arrived from the scouts on the front line.

Amidst the storm and biting wind, a raider horseman rode swiftly on a warhorse, a string of human heads dangling behind him, many faces frozen in a moment of extreme terror, still bleeding.

"My king! Our fleet has surrounded this island. No living person will escape, nor will any messages leave this place," the scout reported to Egil.

"And the battle?" Egil's voice was calm. The king's axe thirsted for blood, but such feeble southerners hardly satisfied Egil.

"All the southerners still resisting on the island have retreated into a temple," the scout continued. "It is the Lady of the Lake temple on the island of Landri."

"The Lady of the Lake temple?" Egil asked, puzzled.

The King of Skarlings had raided the south many times, but he always despised the southerners' inferior beliefs, so he had never bothered to learn about their faiths.

"Allow me to explain, father," his adopted son, the Chaos sorcerer Chakoy, took over. He spoke calmly to Egil: "The Lady of the Lake is considered a symbol and paragon of knighthood... About a thousand years ago, a lord from Bastonne named Arthur received the goddess's blessing in a time of defeat..."

As they traveled, Chakoy detailed the faith of the Lady of the Lake. Egil felt only disdain and disgust. The chosen champion of terror disdainfully remarked, "A hypocritical minor god, weak and corrupt, favoring losers, not at all as inscrutable and progressive as the true gods of the north, merely satisfied with her meager dominion. Such a deity is destined for destruction."

On the island, only the guards inside the Lady of the Lake temple continued to resist. Raiders used a makeshift battering ram to smash the wooden temple doors, which began to crack under the assault. Egil could even hear helpless prayers and crying inside.

This only intensified his contempt for these lowly southerners.

Soon, the temple doors were breached, and hundreds of barbarian raiders stormed inside for a frenzied slaughter. No one was spared. A priestess of the lake goddess tried to use protective spells to shield the civilians but was felled by an axe, her blood staining her white gown red.

Surrounded by his Crimson Guard, Egil approached the fallen priestess, looking down at her with scorn.

"You will be cursed! Wretched barbarian!" the priestess spat venomously as she lay dying. "You desecrate the Lady's sanctuary; you will be cursed by her, your head will be taken by a noble Grail Knight and become a trophy of the Lady."

"Ha! Hahaha!" Egil laughed heartily, his laughter cruel and bloody. He was not angered; instead, the chosen champion of terror's face twisted into a grimace of enjoyment. He signaled his men not to kill the priestess immediately but to let her witness the temple's tragic fate.

The once-clean temple was now covered in blood. All the serfs and freemen who had taken refuge there were brutally slaughtered. The barbarian warriors laughed heartily as they decapitated heads from bodies, cut down the guards, and tore apart refugees hiding inside.

"Before you die, you will understand that your death is not meaningless. The great Blood God will feast on your blood and heart. Soon, the will of the gods will walk upon the land of Bretonnia, the force of Chaos will sweep across the world, your proud legions will be massacred, and in the end, the great Terror will chop down your Lady of the Lake with his brass axe, her head and her pride falling to the ground together," Egil spoke slowly, his towering frame casting a shadow that blocked out the sun. "Now, you know the truth."

With that, the hellaxe fell, and the unblinking head of the priestess rolled down the temple steps, coming to rest beside the statue within.

Like a tidal wave, the barbarian warriors flooded the entire temple.

Egil stepped on the priestess's head, looking up with satisfaction at the gift he offered to Terror—a feast of blood.

The chosen champion of terror then noticed something displeasing in the center of the temple, a statue depicting the Lady of the Lake weeping for humanity.

The statue seemed to possess a spirit, as Egil felt as if cold eyes were staring directly at him through the statue. Irrationally irritated, he swung his axe in anger, and the statue of the Lady of the Lake was split in two, shattering on the ground.

As Egil had anticipated, nothing happened.

This undoubtedly confirmed the superiority of the northern gods. Egil roared, "Blood for the Blood God! Skulls for the Skull Throne!"

"Blood for the Blood God! Skulls for the Skull Throne!!!" All around, amidst endless smoke and ruins, the barbarian troops bellowed, their voices thunderous, as if proclaiming the arrival of the northern wrath.

Meanwhile, the Chaos sorcerer Chakoy used magic to divine the location of the woman destined to bear a successor for the chosen champion of terror.

This woman was hiding in a cave on a cliff by the coast of the island of Landri. Egil immediately ordered one of his most reliable Chaos champions, Kovind the Fierce, to lead his guard to the cave.

About an hour later, Kovind the Fierce returned with a young and beautiful woman. She possessed a fair appearance and a captivating aura. The moment Egil saw her, he realized she was the woman foretold in the prophecy of terror to bear his son. "Who are you?"

"Hengist..." The woman approached Egil calmly amidst the Chaos warriors. "I too received a prophecy, the gods intended for us to meet."

"Hengist? That's not your original name. You have golden hair and blue eyes, you were once a noble of this kingdom," Egil spoke calmly. "Tell me your original name."

"My original name was... Elizabeth, but that doesn't matter anymore. Now, I am but a fallen one." The woman, though trembling before Egil's imposing stature and fearsome aura, managed to maintain her composure. "You need me, right?"

"I do not need you, but I need a son."

...

In the lands of Bretonnia, in the southern region under the rule of Earl Glamorgan:

In the early hours, the sky was dim, and in the bedroom of the Earl's castle, Ryan was holding Olica, the dark elf, who slept soundly in his arms. Her face flushed, she wrapped her arms around Ryan's neck, resting on his chest.

"Ryan~ Ryan~ wake up~" A gentle voice echoed in the mind of the Lady's chosen champion.

Ryan woke from his sleep, slightly uncomfortable from being roused at dawn, yet the Earl quickly got up: "My Lady?"

"Ryan, come quickly, come to my tower. There is trouble in the north," the voice of the Lady of the Lake urged urgently.

"I'm on my way!" Ryan got out of bed, dressed quickly, and Olica, still sleepy, rubbed her eyes. "Master? What's wrong?"

"There's a prophecy; you rest, Olica," Ryan said affectionately, kissing the dark elf on the lips.

"Mmm." After a brief kiss with Ryan, Olica continued to rest while Ryan, now fully dressed, hurriedly made his way to the tower of the Lady of the Lake.

When Ryan arrived at the Lady's tower, the Lady of the Lake, Lilith, and the lake witch Morgiana were already there. Seeing Ryan approach, Morgiana looked worriedly at him, evidently having been just as suddenly awoken by the Lady of the Lake.

"What's the matter, my Lady?" Ryan approached the Lady of the Lake, asking in confusion.

The Lady of the Lake, wearing a rose black tulle embroidered gown, breathed a sigh of relief upon seeing Ryan: "Ryan, something terrible has happened. The Skarlings tribe from the north has moved south, they have overrun the island of Landri, slaughtering its inhabitants and destroying my temple!"

A large map was spread out on a table in the room, and the Lady's delicate finger pointed to a group of islands in the northwest of the Lyonnesse Principality.

"Barbarians, the Skarlings..." Ryan narrowed his eyes.

Having once been a knight of Nordland, he was familiar with these northern tribes, but the timing was peculiar. The barbarians usually launched raids in the autumn and winter, ceasing their pillaging as spring began in March and returning to the northern wastelands.

Despite being called the northern wastelands, the area does enjoy a warm period of one to one and a half months each year, the only chance for the northern barbarians to cultivate land and replenish their livestock.

Yet now, in April, it was strange for the barbarians to head south.

"Lyonnesse is currently weak; serfs have taken over Barrimont Castle in the north, and the principality's limited forces are spread thin, stationed everywhere to quell rebellions. Here lies the problem: Lyonnesse once seized a great deal of territory from Mousilon, it has the longest coastline of all the duchies in Bretonnia, and also faces the cursed city of Mousilon to the south. The Duke of Dalheid is facing a shortage of troops. Now with

 the northern barbarians' invasion, my Lady, we must assemble a sufficient number of knights to break the Skarlings' berserkers," Ryan explained to the Lady of the Lake.

"I know, I've already sent dreams to Grand Master Uther, commanding him to lead a contingent of Grail Knights and call for reinforcements to aid Lyonnesse, and urged Dalheid to organize troops to confront the Skarlings tribe," the Lady of the Lake nodded, pointing at the capital of the Kingdom of Knights, Couronne, where Grand Master Uther was stationed.

Couronne was indeed much closer to the Principality of Lyonnesse. Ryan had no objections; in fact, he lacked a pretext to intervene in this affair. If the King did not command, or Dalheid did not request assistance, Ryan could not interfere.

"Ryan, there's no need for you to act on the northern issue for now," the Lady of the Lake thought for a moment before shaking her head.

Ryan was her chosen champion, but the Lady of the Lake could not rely on him for everything.

"Understood."

"But be prepared, mobilize your domain, my champion. I have a feeling," the Lady of the Lake said uncertainly: "Perhaps... this invasion doesn't seem normal. Uther is the Grand Master of the Grail Knights, a swordsman who could rival the Imperial Bannerlord, Ludwig; he should be able to handle the situation."

"But if even Uther cannot resolve the issue, my champion, then you will be needed," the Lady of the Lake turned to Morgiana: "Morgiana, send a message to Anara, have her move with Uther."

"Yes!" Morgiana and the Lady of the Lake walked down to the third floor, Ryan remained on the fourth floor looking at the map.

The Lady of the Lake followed Morgiana down the stairs.

During the descent, the Lady of the Lake casually remarked, "You seem very happy these days, Morgiana."

Her tone carried an indescribable oddness.

At the same time, her gaze was fixed directly on Morgiana's abdomen.

Morgiana blushed, unable to lift her head: "I... my Lady..."

"Many things will happen today, let Ryan leave."

"Yes... yes."

The lake witch's flushed face nearly buried itself in her bosom.

Updated!

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