Lich for Hire

Chapter 225: The Battle Begins

"You're saying the elven gods sent you to help me?" Ambrose felt like he'd just heard the biggest joke in the world.

He was a lich.

A pile of rotting bones had nothing in common with elves. If anything, he had more in common with the drow-spider hybrids lurking in the Umbral Depths.

"Catherine, are you feeling alright?" Ambrose asked.

Could some evil god have possessed her? He was starting to suspect that some evil god had taken an interest in her and was feeding her hallucinations. But illusions didn't work well on elves, and Catherine didn't look confused or bewitched at all.

Catherine showed no sign of joking. "I received a divine blessing. You know that."

At the mention of that, Ambrose's soul turned green with envy.

Back then, he'd practically ground his teeth in hatred. He had lived for centuries and had never seen such a useful blessing, nor met such a generous god.

Even though the God of Alchemy was technically his master, all his blessings had come with price tags.

Catherine shook her head. "My blessing prevents me from being harmed while bathed in moonlight. Don't you think that's strange? It does fit the domain of the Goddess of the Moon, but I keep feeling like this blessing is meant for this exact situation. Look at the moon tonight—even in the desert, you don't usually see one this large. It's like it's afraid it won't illuminate the land clearly enough."Ambrose glanced up at the sky. Sure enough, the moon was absurdly large, as if it might come crashing down at any moment.

"But that still doesn't make sense," Ambrose said. "Why would the elven gods want you to help me? If they wanted to give me something, they could just tell me directly."

Despite himself, he began praying to the gods. What was the proper prayer again?

He silently recited a few hymns to Choralan, but nothing happened. Finally, he said, "You're probably overthinking it. If the elven gods wanted you to help me, they'd just say so. No need to be this roundabout. Aren't you their favorite chosen?"

Catherine shook her head, her tone unusually firm. "I'm not the little girl I used to be. The gods must have noticed that too. That's why they're no longer giving me clear, direct revelations like before. They're testing me, hoping I can make a mature decision."

"Clear and direct? How direct?" Ambrose asked.

Catherine thought for a moment. "Like… talking with a friend."

Ambrose stared at her.

Divine revelations were never clear and direct. Ninety percent of the time they were riddles, because only by making believers interpret them could gods maintain their air of mystery. For a moment, Ambrose couldn't tell whether Catherine herself was special, or whether the elven gods simply treated her differently.

"Forget it. No point arguing about that," he said. "You want to help me, and you think that's a ‘mature decision'? You're tied to the Court of the Silver Moon. In this timeline, you're still the Queen of the Elves. Even if you were to step down, everything you say and do represents your people."

Of course, Ambrose wanted her help. But after spending time together, he had come to regard Catherine as something like a friend. He didn't want this naïve elf to end up branded a traitor to her own race.

Catherine replied, "In the past, I would have thought helping you would harm the Court of the Silver Moon. After all, Lyon is an ally of the elves. But recently… I've been thinking." She paused, then continued, "The mana addiction crisis was only resolved with your help. We didn't even dare let our supposed ally, Lyon, know about the issue because we were afraid they might take the opportunity to invade the Court of the Silver Moon."

She looked at him, her expression serious. "The people of Lyon are, first and foremost, followers of the Lord of Dawn. Nothing about their doctrine particularly pertains to war. So why do we now associate Lyon with conquest?"

Ambrose frowned. He could understand her logic. This wasn't just Catherine's personal impression. Indeed, something was wrong.

When had the Lord of Dawn's followers become the common enemy of the entire continent?

The elves weren't the only ones wary of them. Even the druids of the Emerald Dreamwood had raised a barrier across the entire forest to guard against a potential Lyon invasion.

Lyon's reputation had changed, and it had happened under the gaze of the Lord of Dawn himself.

That was not normal. Not at all.

Ambrose recalled what the spirit of Arthur Lyon had once said: that he had slain the Dragon Tyrant for the sake of all races on the continent. If that was true, how had the kingdom he founded become everyone's enemy?

There had to be something behind this. Perhaps the historian Heki Stone might have an answer.

"So you think there's a problem with Lyon, and you're planning to stand against them?" Ambrose asked.

"It's not that simple," Catherine said. "But at the very least, I shouldn't stand on Lyon's side unconditionally." She hesitated, then added, "If possible, I'll help you without revealing my identity. But even if there's a risk of exposure… I can accept that now."

Ambrose looked at her for a long moment. "Thank you."

For a brief second, he felt a hint of regret. Maybe he shouldn't have woven a future for her in which she became an overworked office worker. In that vision, Catherine had cried quite miserably.

When the time came… maybe he'd give her a vacation.

He was just about to share that "good news" with her when both of them turned at the same time toward the far edge of the desert.

The darkness could not conceal what they sensed. The Lyon army had appeared on the horizon.

There was no more time for conversation. Ambrose opened up his private space and said, "Get inside. If I need you, I'll call for you."

Catherine nodded and stepped inside.

Ambrose then summoned and mounted Naomi in her time dragon form. They took to the sky.

To his surprise, the Silvermoon Knight did not follow them. No Lyon forces were skyborne. They all remained on the ground, advancing with the army.

"If it's like this, those Dwarven Ironguards are in for suffering…"

No sooner had he muttered that than a brilliant mass of holy light began to gather above the Lyon army.

At first, Ambrose thought the Silvermoon Knight was about to strike, and that he might trick him into wasting a blow. But instead, the light coalesced into the form of a silver-armored warrior.

A celestial warrior.

Nearly ten meters tall, the radiant giant looked almost lifelike despite being formed entirely from holy light. It even had facial expressions.

Starfall's three hundred slaves had been able to summon such a being through faith after only training for two days. Lyon's regular troops could naturally summon a far stronger celestial warrior.

The celestial warrior charged straight at the dwarves' defensive position.

Fortifications meant for human enemies were meaningless before a ten-meter giant. Walls, trenches—he stepped over them all with ease.

The blade of light in its hand swept across the ground, carving deep trenches in the earth. Stone, sand, and steel alike parted like butter under that radiant edge.

The celestial warrior advanced relentlessly, as if intent on cleaving the entire defensive line in two.

But the dwarves did not panic. After so many battles, they were already familiar with this tactic.

Dozens of warhammers were hurled through the air, crashing into the celestial warrior with immense force.

These hammers seemed blessed by the earth itself. When they struck the warrior, they exploded into sandstorm-like bursts of power. The barrage was enough to halt the giant's charge and cause cracks to spread across its form.

The celestial warrior lowered its body and swept its sword across the battlefield, tearing the defensive line apart.

But under the second wave of hammer strikes, it collapsed, dissolving into scattered motes of holy light.

Lyon had lost one celestial warrior. The dwarves had lost most of their defensive line and taken heavy casualties. By all appearances, Lyon had come out ahead. Its army, surging forward, must have thought so too.

What followed was a brutal melee.

The Dwarven Ironguards held the front lines, buying time for the spellcasters behind them.

Spells lit up the desert night like fireworks. Where that brilliance fell, flesh and blood followed.

Lyon, meanwhile, relied less on flashy magic. Most of their priests focused on empowering the frontline soldiers.

Guidance, Blessing, Chains of Protection, Shields of Sanctuary, Auras of Vitality… Holy light flooded the battlefield like a sea, enveloping every Lyon soldier until they shone so brightly it was hard to observe them directly.

Ambrose watched the battlefield from above. Despite not having any military training, he could tell that the dwarves were steadily being pushed back.

The defenders of Sweetdew City were elite, but too few in number. In terms of sheer military strength, they could not match Lyon.

Heavily armored paladins like walking fortresses formed Lyon's vanguard. Layers of divine buffs allowed them to withstand most spells, while their Sacred Slashes could cut through steel itself.

Combining offense and defense, they moved in perfect formation. They looked far more professional than did the dwarves.

Only the Dwarven Ironguards could still maintain their formation. The conscripted mercenaries behind them had already fallen into disarray, retreating under pressure from the Lyon legions.

Ambrose studied everything closely. This was his first time witnessing Lyon's full-scale attack.

In his previous exercise with the Silvermoon Knight, he had relied entirely on trickery to lure the paladins into traps. He had never seen them fight at full strength. Now that he had, his scalp was tingling. Lyon was like the Silvermoon Knight: overwhelming beyond reason. The Silvermoon Knight was absurdly powerful among legends, and Lyon absurdly powerful among the Nine Kingdoms.

At this rate, the dwarves would not be able to hold out for long. The dwarven legends would soon have to enter the battlefield themselves to stop Lyon's advance.

Ambrose circled the sky, searching for his one true opponent.

Soon, he felt a surge of danger rising from below.

A streak of silver moonlight shot up from within the Lyon army, racing toward the sky.

Ambrose's eyes widened. The old man wasn't striking at Sweetdew City—he was targeting Ambrose!

There was no time to hesitate. Ambrose urged Naomi to dodge, but to his shock, even the dragon couldn't outrun the incoming strike. The arc of moonlight locked onto him, curving mid-flight as if guided by his very presence.

"Damn it!"

Ambrose cursed and immediately opened his extradimensional space, grabbing Catherine and pulling her out.

She hadn't even had time to react. She was about to ask if he needed her help when Ambrose threw her straight into the path of the attack.

The blade of moonlight struck Catherine head-on.