Chapter 289: Kill that Serie
Upon learning that the "Hero" he sent out had failed, Legate flew into a rage.
"Trash! A bunch of trash!!"
Deep within the Imperial Palace of the Southern Unified Empire, the Emperor's roar nearly blew the roof off the hall.
His face was ashen, veins bulging on his forehead, as he clutched the newly arrived encrypted magical message.
His "Hero"—the one he had placed the highest hopes on, the ultimate killer possessing clone talents and the enhancement of the Holy Sword—had failed so easily.
Even the Holy Sword had fallen into the enemy's hands!
This was supposed to be his strongest trump card. With the talent to create clones paired with the Holy Sword's duplication effect, one person was practically an army.
More importantly, the wielder didn't need to enter the battlefield personally. He could send a constant stream of clones to wage a war of attrition.
Coupled with the mana support provided by the Holy Sword, no mage or warrior should have been his match.
"Your Majesty, please quell your anger!" Friedrich immediately tried to comfort him, his voice also full of astonishment. "The strength of Serie and that Rhodes truly far exceeded our estimates. To instantly locate the main body several kilometers away... that should be beyond the range of detection magic."
"Estimates? I don't want estimates! I want results!!!"
Legate slammed the intelligence report onto the floor.
Subjected to the violent impact, the mana on the surface of the magical message began to fluctuate, and the entire scroll dissolved into blue fragments and vanished.
Legate's roar continued. "That guy was a one-man army! With the mana supply and anti-magic effects of the Holy Sword, even by sheer attrition, he should have been able to grind them to death!"
"And the result? He couldn't even last a day—no! Not even half a day! Utterly useless!!!"
His chest heaved violently, flames of rage burning in his eyes.
This result was tantamount to a slap in the face of his ambitious plans.
Especially considering the enormous price he paid to cultivate this so-called "Hero," sacrificing ninety-nine powerful mages until only this one remained. And this was the result he got?
He simply could not accept it.
"Your Majesty, that Lord Hero is already dead," Friedrich said with his head bowed.
The man had Friedrich's highest-level restrictive magic inside him. The moment he was killed by Serie, Friedrich had sensed it.
"Dead is dead. Just trash in the end!" Legate waved his hand in disgust.
"I should wield the Holy Sword myself instead of placing hope on these useless fools!"
Clearly, the failure had made His Majesty abandon the plan of cultivating a Holy Sword wielder.
Just then, Friedrich seemed to think of something. He looked up hurriedly, worry on his face. "Your Majesty, is the magic on the Holy Sword still active? The sword forged with the Empire's blood and sweat must not fall into enemy hands! Your bloodline connection with it..."
If the Holy Sword, forged with the strength of the entire nation, fell into enemy hands so easily, it would truly be a joke.
Legate took a deep breath, forcibly suppressing his churning emotions, and sensed the faint connection with the distant Holy Sword within his body.
The magic he imbued into the sword was an improved version of the one on The Light of Ersten. Thus, he could sense that the Bloodline Magic was still active, and the teleportation circle could be activated at any time.
"The connection is still there," Legate said coldly. "I can recall it at any time."
"Your Majesty! Please recall the Holy Sword immediately!" Friedrich advised urgently. "Delay invites trouble! That Rhodes... I feel there is something strange about him. The longer the Holy Sword stays in his hands, the stronger my unease becomes!"
However, Legate fell silent.
He stared at the mark on the map representing the vanguard legion's camp, his gaze shifting uncertainly.
He could summon the sword anytime, but he was unwilling to admit the failure of this assassination. It meant he temporarily had no way to deal with Serie and Rhodes.
His ambition, his pride—neither could accept this!
No!
I absolutely cannot let it end like this!
A ruthless expression replaced his previous rage.
"There is no need," he spoke slowly. "Pass my order. The Vanguard Legion is to launch a full-scale attack! At all costs, kill Serie and that Rhodes!"
"Your Majesty!!!" Friedrich turned pale with shock.
From beginning to end, he was the one who least wanted things to reach this stage.
"Once the army moves, there is no turning back." He had to steel himself to dissuade the Emperor. "This is the Empire's most elite legion. Even if we win, it will be a pyrrhic victory! With our vitality severely damaged, our subsequent plans..."
"My decision is final!" Legate interrupted him roughly, giving him no chance to continue. "As long as Serie dies, as long as this biggest obstacle is removed, any price is worth it!"
"Without her support, the Kingdom of Ersten is nothing but a mob. Execute the order!"
Seeing the unquestionable look in the Emperor's eyes, Friedrich shut his mouth.
When had His Majesty become so paranoid and deaf to all persuasion?
Friedrich didn't know.
He only knew that as a teacher and a subject, he should not contradict him repeatedly.
His previous objections had already incurred the Emperor's displeasure. If not for their past teacher-student bond, Legate might have thrown him into prison long ago.
Finally, Friedrich lowered his head deeply, hiding the helplessness in his eyes, and answered with a trembling voice, "As you command."
A cold order, accelerated by magic, was quickly transmitted to the Empire's vanguard legion.
Upon receiving the order from His Majesty, the Legion Commander did not hesitate. He quickly ordered the entire army to pounce toward Rhodes and Serie.
Simultaneously, he summoned the hundreds of Court Mages within the legion. These people would be the main force of the upcoming battle, the ones who could help him kill Serie.
The Commander informed the mages of His Majesty's order without hesitation.
At the thought of engaging and killing the legendary Elven Saint, the world's oldest mage, the breathing of all the mages grew heavier.
But soon, it was replaced by undisguised killing intent.
As long as they killed her—killed the oldest and strongest mage—their names would be etched into human history forever.
This was an achievement all mages craved.
Although achieving it by such means was somewhat dishonorable, who asked Serie to stand in their way?
They would simply have to make her a stepping stone for their glory.
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