Chapter 388: Defend the Frostgrave Fortress (8)

[Ruvian’s POV]

Despite being ordered to remain inside the eastern observation keep, Ruvian and Calyra had already slipped beyond Frostgrave Fortress.

Instead, the two of them were now suspended high above the northern field, several hundred meters in the air while frigid winds tore violently around them.

Far below, Frostgrave Fortress stretched across the northern land like an immense stone bulwark, its towers crowded with soldiers making final preparations for the coming stampede.

Beyond it sprawled the northern wilderness.

From this height, Ruvian could clearly make out the dark patches scattered across the northern plains where the Nightbloom Spawners had taken root.

Calyra remained beside him, a translucent blue [Magic Barrier] spread beneath their feet like a floating platform, supporting both of them high above the plains.

Her white hair lashed wildly behind her in the wind before she turned her gaze toward Ruvian. "So you believe those plant Voidspawns appeared because of a demon?"

She paused for a moment, her eyes narrowing faintly.

"A demon similar to Mamveth?"

Ruvian gave a slight nod.

He had already told Calyra most of what had happened on Vazrun Island, including Julian’s possession, Mamveth’s appearance, and the brutal clash that followed.

He had also explained what he suspected about Frostgrave.

The mutated Nightbloom Spawners. The strange mental affliction spreading through the soldiers. And most importantly, the traces of Dark Mana he had sensed within those creatures.

"Yeah," Ruvian said, keeping his gaze fixed on the northern horizon. "That’s why we should prepare for the worst."

His expression gradually turned grim.

"A Supreme Demon is absurdly powerful."

Calyra’s brows drew together.

She had already heard enough about Mamveth from Ruvian to understand the weight behind those words.

Even while severely restricted, Mamveth had still been powerful enough to force Ophelia Dumblelore, an Archmage, to fight in earnest.

And that had not even been the demon’s true body.

From what Ruvian understood after his encounter with Mamveth, Supreme Demons currently lacked proper vessels within the human world.

Without one, they could not fully descend.

Mamveth had circumvented that limitation by possessing Julian’s body, gradually turning him into a vessel capable of bearing more of its power.

But Ruvian doubted every Supreme Demon would employ the same method. Depending on their nature and abilities, they could operate through entirely different means.

That was what unsettled him; he understood how Mamveth worked now, but when it came to the others, he knew almost nothing.

Ruvian narrowed his eyes at the dense ranks of soldiers moving below.

"If there really is another Supreme Demon involved, I don’t think we should assume it’ll use the same methods as Mamveth."

Calyra glanced toward him.

"You think it might use something other than a human vessel?"

"Perhaps. Or maybe its vessel isn’t even human."

The wind howled between them.

"Such as?"

"Voidspawn could be a possibility as well."

"I see. That crossed my mind too."

Before either of them could say anything more, movement below finally drew Ruvian’s attention.

The northern gate of Frostgrave Fortress began to open; heavy chains groaned within the walls as the massive ironbound doors slowly parted, revealing row after row of soldiers already assembled behind them.

"They’re moving," Calyra said.

Ruvian lowered his gaze.

The preemptive strike force was finally marching out.

At the head of the formation rode Captain Zarrick Droys, his armored figure easy to distinguish even from this height, while several mounted officers followed close behind.

Scoutmaster Givard Best advanced beside them with his own unit, leading Frostgrave’s scouts and pathfinders toward the northern plains. Behind them, several hundred soldiers marched in disciplined formation.

A moment later, Captain Zarrick abruptly raised one arm.

The entire formation slowed at once.

*****

[Captain Zarrick’s POV]

Holding their positions, the soldiers immediately turned toward Captain Zarrick, hundreds of eyes fixed squarely on him as they awaited his command. The field fell eerily quiet despite the wind sweeping across the plains.

Zarrick allowed the silence to linger before slowly lowering his raised arm.

"Listen! Our first objective is to cut down the number of those damned plants before nightfall," he declared, his voice carrying clearly across the formation.

His gaze swept across the gathered soldiers before his jaw clenched.

"No, forget that. We’re going to rip every last one of those hideous bastards out of the ground!"

Several soldiers tightened their grips around their weapons. Zarrick pulled firmly on the reins and turned his horse sideways, making sure every man within sight could see him.

"Every Nightbloom we destroy here means fewer Voidspawns reaching Frostgrave once night falls, so don’t underestimate a single one of those damned things."

Drawing in a slow breath, Zarrick glanced back toward the distant fortress behind them.

"We have faced things like this before, so don’t lose your nerve. I’m standing here with you, and more importantly, Frostgrave is the only thing standing between those creatures and Valcavein City. If this fortress falls, the people behind us will be the ones paying the price. Their homes, their families, and their lives depend on what we do here today, understand!?"

The soldiers answered with a thunderous roar, their voices rolling across the plains. Zarrick’s stern expression remained unchanged, but the corner of his mouth nearly curled upward.

Good.

That was exactly the response he wanted.

He slowly raised his sword again, letting the polished blade catch the sunlight as he held it high above his head for everyone to see.

From where they stood, he must have looked every bit like the fearless commander Frostgrave needed, a man willing to stand at the front and risk his life for everyone behind those walls.

How touching.

’Ha! They really do eat up speeches like that.’

Zarrick kept his expression firm as another wave of cheers swept through the formation, yet beneath that disciplined facade, his thoughts had already wandered far beyond the battlefield before him.

If he returned after personally leading the force that eradicated every Nightbloom Spawner before the stampede even began, there would be no denying the scale of his contribution.

The citizens would speak of it, the soldiers would spread the tale, and sooner or later, word would reach other regions as well.

Perhaps even Lord Evrard himself would have no choice but to acknowledge what Zarrick had achieved... and if fortune truly favored him, perhaps even consider him worthy of Lady Calyra’s hand in marriage.

Just imagining it brought the faintest glint of satisfaction into his eyes.

For years, Zarrick had served beneath men with greater titles, stronger bloodlines, and names that carried far beyond his own, no matter how much effort he poured into his service.

This, however, was different.

This was the kind of opportunity that rarely came twice, and all he had to do was seize it before anyone else could snatch the glory from his grasp.

Suppressing the smug smile threatening to break through, Zarrick lowered his sword toward the northern plains and let his features settle once more into the firm, righteous expression expected of a commander.

"For Frostgrave!" he roared.

The soldiers answered almost at once, their voices crashing across the field in one thunderous cry.

"For Frostgrave!"

With that, Captain Zarrick spurred his horse forward and led the charge.

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[Chapter 388: Defend the Frostgrave Fortress (8)

Plot Points = 297,000