Chapter 115: The Holy Interrogation of the Pink Demon

From the folds of her robes, Eldara produced a scroll engraved with the emblem of Silvermoon City. Her fingertips brushed across its surface, and a series of elven runes began to form, glowing with a faint, ethereal light.

Once the message was inscribed, she handed the scroll to the most agile Elf Ranger under her command.

“Take the secret path through the western mountains,” Eldara’s voice was as level and unforgiving as a frozen plain, devoid of any discernible emotion. “Return to Silvermoon City at full speed and present this to Her Majesty the Queen in person.”

She continued, “Inform Her Majesty that the undead are the masterminds behind the theft. Request that she mobilize the Royal Mage Corps to blockade the exit of the Frost Trail.”

“Yes, Commander!”

The Ranger saluted with grim solemnity. He accepted the scroll, and in the next instant, his form seemed to dissolve into the swirling wind and snow, vanishing without a trace.

Half a day later, the party’s pace slowed to a crawl.

The world had been bleached of all color, leaving only a suffocating, pure white that stretched from heaven to earth. The magnificent mountains loomed before them like an impassable barrier of despair, a silent declaration that this was a forbidden zone for the living.

The air was so bone-chilling it felt as if it could freeze a person’s very soul. Every exhaled breath condensed into a cloud of fine ice crystals the moment it left their lips.

While the skeletal warhorses were immune to the cold, the snow had become so thick it submerged half their legs, severely hindering their progress.

“Everyone dismount. We proceed on foot.”

Eldara vaulted from her mount, her command short and forceful. The knights under her command moved as one; the sound of metal and leather rubbing together merged into a single, muffled thud, after which an unnerving silence fell over the unit.

The moment her boots sank into the deep snow, however, Su Wan seemed to come alive. She spread her arms wide, as if to embrace the world of ice and snow. The ambient elemental energy, invisible to others, surged toward her in a frantic torrent, bringing a healthy, rosy flush to her fair cheeks. The oppressive cold around Celeste and the others even seemed to lessen slightly in her presence.

‘An Ice Mage on a snow map is basically a god,’Celeste mused, secretly clicking her tongue in amazement as she watched the shimmering halo of magic coalesce around Su Wan.’It’s like getting a home-field advantage buff that stacks infinitely. She’s not just in her element; she is the element.’

Just then, a white shadow slid out from behind a snowdrift up ahead. It was the Ranger who had been sent to scout. He made a series of silent hand signals to Eldara.

Enemy sighted. Mountain pass, five hundred meters ahead.

Approximately three hundred hostiles. Formation scattered. State: exhausted.

The scarlet flames in Eldara’s eye sockets flickered violently. She silently mouthed a single, chilling word.

“Oh? Did we just stumble on a welcome-to-the-zone loot drop?” Celeste’s spirits lifted instantly.

She hunched over, following the main force as they crept silently toward a higher snow slope. Peeking over the ridge, she took in the scene at the mountain pass below.

A long, straggling line of undead was stumbling out from the narrow passage between two peaks. The formation was stretched thin; skeletal soldiers were covered in icicles, their movements slow and stiff, their bones grinding together with a teeth-gritting creak. The ghouls and necromancers interspersed among the ranks looked equally listless and drained. The journey across the Frost Trail had clearly taken a heavy toll on these undead constructs.

They never expected that in this forbidden zone for the living, a place they considered absolutely safe, an elite force born to hunt them had already laid a death trap.

The moment the silent order was given, Eldara was the first to charge.

Her figure tore through the wind and snow, carving a pitch-black trajectory of death through the pure white world. The Silent Watch Knights behind her moved in perfect, terrifying unison. They were shadows of death surging through the blizzard, their armored feet making no sound on the thick snow as they descended to devour the exhausted enemy.

A black tide, moving with unstoppable force, crashed violently into the loose, unsuspecting lines of the undead.

A cold light flashed from the runic sword in Eldara’s hand, and the entire front row of skeletal soldiers shattered into a cloud of broken bones.

It wasn’t until the bone fragments rained down upon them that the undead further back reacted with sluggish confusion. Enemies!

But it was far too late.

This was not a battle. It was a slaughter.

The knights were the most efficient harvesting machines imaginable. They swung their weapons in grim silence, each precise strike reaping a soul flame.

Selene roared, activating Immovable Mountain and charging directly into the densest part of the undead horde. A blinding eruption of Holy Light instantly crippled an entire section of their ranks.

From a high vantage point, Xia Lian continuously drew her longbow, Night Star Whisper. Each arrow flew silently, yet each one found its mark, accurately piercing the skulls of undead officers and extinguishing the soul fire within.

Su Wan’s Blizzard, now visibly larger and more ferocious than ever before, descended upon the battlefield. Countless ice blades howled in the wind, freezing the bodies of the undead while tearing their very souls apart.

“A frontal sneak attack! This completely bypasses the ‘Knight’s Code’ debuff. Perfect!” Carrying her staff and with nothing to do, Celeste felt she had achieved a new level of tactical enlightenment.

The undead commander, a high-ranking Necromancer, watched helplessly as his forces collapsed. The two points of soul fire in his pale skull flickered violently. He reached into his robes, pulled out a black amulet, and began chanting a spell, preparing to crush it.

“Trying to run?” a crisp, cheerful voice called out from the distance. “Did you ask for my permission first?”

The Necromancer subconsciously looked up.

A huge, shimmering pink beam of light filled his entire field of vision. The beam trailed gorgeous, ribbon-like special effects as it followed an entirely unreasonable and bizarre trajectory, smashing precisely into his face.

What the hell is that?! was the last thought that flashed through the Necromancer’s mind.

The next moment, the pink beam of light slammed into him.

There was no pain.

There was only an extreme, overwhelming “warmth.”

A kind of “holiness” that made his very soul scream and tremble in agony. A massive, concentrated dose of life energy was subjecting his undead essence to the most terrifying purification imaginable.

“Ahhh—!”

The amulet in the Necromancer’s hand fell with a soft plop into the snow. The escape portal that had been about to form instantly collapsed. He clutched his head, emitting an inhuman, shrill scream as he rolled wildly in the snow.

Seeing this bizarre scene, even the battle-hardened knights subconsciously slowed their sword swings by half a beat.

Eldara’s figure materialized out of thin air behind the frantic Necromancer. She extended her slender, gauntleted fingers. Her fingertips, wreathed in pure death energy, tapped lightly on the back of his skull.

The screaming stopped abruptly. The soul fire in the Necromancer’s eye sockets froze solid.

The world was quiet again.

Eldara picked up the Necromancer by the back of his collar, dragging him like a broken sack of bones before tossing him into a snowdrift. Then, she extended her finger again, injecting another, completely opposite stream of death energy into him.

The soul fire in the Necromancer’s eye sockets shuddered violently, flickered a few times, and then stabilized.

He regained consciousness and opened his eyes, only to find an expressionless face hovering directly in front of him. And those two burning, scarlet eyes.

“Silent Watch… Eldara…” his voice trembled, fear rendering his thoughts incoherent.

“My patience is limited,” Eldara looked down at him, her voice devoid of any warmth. “Speak. Where is Mogras?”

Hearing the name “Mogras,” the Necromancer’s body shuddered violently. His soul fire contracted sharply, yet he managed to let out a hoarse, cold laugh. “Hmph… don’t think… you’ll get… any information from me…”

Before he could finish, Celeste strolled over, wearing a smile so kind it was utterly hair-raising.

“Commander, leave this tough nut to me,” she said sweetly. “My particular skillset is uniquely effective against those who refuse to talk.”

Eldara glanced at her, then silently took half a step back, giving her tacit permission.

Celeste squatted down and showed the Necromancer a perfect, eight-teeth-baring smile. “Hello there, Mr. Bones. I’d like to discuss something with you.”

She extended a finger, a faint pink light swirling around its tip. “I can let you re-experience that ‘warmth’ from just now.”

“However,” she explained with a grin, “it’ll only be one percent of the original dosage.”

“Once every three seconds. Continuously.”

“You see, this dosage won’t make your soul dissipate instantly, but it will allow you to clearly savor the joy of being filled with life energy. Isn’t that great?”

The Necromancer’s soul fire flickered wildly. It was a fear that came from the very marrow of his bones.

“You… you pink demon!”

“Hey, you can’t say it like that,” Celeste tilted her head. “This is called the ‘Infusion of Love and Truth.’ Want to try it?”

The pink light on her fingertip tapped lightly on the Necromancer’s forehead.

Sizzle—

“Ah…!”

A short, suppressed scream escaped him. It wasn’t the agony of simple pain, but a deeper, more fundamental torture. It was as if his entire soul were being soaked in boiling holy water, every thought and every fragment of consciousness repeatedly scorched, purified, and torn apart.

“Oh? It seems the dosage is just right,” Celeste nodded with satisfaction, her smile growing even sweeter. “Then let’s do it again, to consolidate the therapeutic effect.”

Sizzle—

Watching from the side, Selene felt her scalp tingle. She quietly leaned over to Xia Lian and whispered, “Xia Lian, don’t you think… my sister looks more like a villain than the actual villain right now?”

Xia Lian’s gaze drifted away, not daring to look directly at the “treatment” scene. She could only nod slightly, but very quickly.

Su Wan interjected out of nowhere, her tone flat. “Undead don’t count as people.”

“Don’t rush, there’s more,” Celeste said, preparing for the third “treatment” with great interest.

Sizzle—

“Ahhh! Stop! STOP! I’ll talk! I’ll say everything!”

The Necromancer’s mental defenses had completely collapsed. The consequences of betraying Lord Mogras were terrifying, but damn it, the torture he was currently enduring was somehow even more terrifying!

“That’s more like it,” Celeste retracted her finger, looking gratified. “See? A little bit of loving care can make a soul so honest.”

“Don’t worry,” she added brightly, “as long as you tell us everything you know, the Commander will give you the gentlest release.” She gestured with her thumb toward Eldara, who stood nearby.

Eldara nodded once. She said nothing, but the chilling promise of “I mean what I say” in her gaze carried more weight than any words.

The Necromancer’s soul fire contracted violently. Under the immediate fear of eternal torture, his pitiful loyalty crumbled into dust.

“It’s… it’s behind us!” he betrayed his superior without a moment’s hesitation. “Lord Mogras is right behind us! He has reassembled the most elite ‘Withered Legion’ of the Scar of Sorrow! He’s preparing to pass through the Frost Trail to personally head south and take charge of the situation!”

“We are just the vanguard, responsible for scouting the way and clearing obstacles!”

As soon as these words were spoken, the hearts of Celeste and the others tightened.

They hadn’t just run into an exhausted remnant force. They had stumbled upon the vanguard of the main undead invasion.

The real army was right behind them.

However, Eldara’s expression did not change in the slightest. There was no nervousness, no surprise. She quietly listened to the Necromancer’s wailing confession, the red light in her eyes only growing more intense.

“Withered Legion… very good.”

Her voice was a soft whisper, piercing with a bone-chilling cold.

“Saves me the trouble of looking for them.”

A hint of a curve finally appeared at the corners of her lips.

That was not a smile.

It was the cold, cruel, and pleased arc that only a hunter’s mouth makes when gazing upon prey that has just stepped into a perfectly laid trap.

Old grudges and new debts—right here, in this land of ice and snow, they would all be settled at once.

[Elysian’s Note:

Having a good time with the story?

Every single bit helps immensely:

Thanks a ton for making this journey possible!]