Chapter 25: Queen of Roses, Bethalia

As consciousness flickered, fragments of past memories began to surface one after another.

Bethalia was a wicked woman.

Of course, the overall moral standard of the dark elf nobility was quite low; they did not even consider "honor" or "virtue" to be things worth pursuing, so naturally, Bethalia could not have been kind.

It should be noted that among the generations of dark elf queens, almost none had come to a peaceful end. The reason it is said "almost" is because there was indeed one queen who was already quite old when she ascended the throne and died in her sleep one night after a sudden heart attack, which is why historians consider her "the only dark elf queen to have died of natural causes."

In fact, she was simply lucky enough to die early. At the time, a court coup was actually brewing; the assassin sent to kill her was already on the way, and even the palace chef had been bribed, planning to find an opportunity to poison her meal.

If Bethalia learned anything from this dark court history, it was that "there are no rules at the table of power."

Throughout her life, she had experienced hundreds, if not thousands, of assassination attempts, the vast majority of which ended in failure. It was not because the assassins were not diligent or professional, but because Bethalia was well-versed in toxicology and witchcraft curses, and she remained vigilant and guarded against everyone around her.

She was like a vibrant rose, naturally growing with sharp thorns.

The assassination that finally succeeded employed a rather imaginative method.

After careful calculation and planning, the enemies secretly hollowed out the timber in a shipyard, stuffed it with treated kindling and explosives, and finally leased the completed ship to the dark elf royal court.

When the ship carrying the Rose Queen reached the waters near Salt Island, the assassins on board ignited the explosives.

Bethalia was severely wounded by the sudden blast. She killed the attacking assassins within the inferno, only to discover that the ship beneath her feet was rapidly disintegrating and sinking. She no longer had a chance to swim to land to seek treatment.

In the final moments of her life, she "carefully arranged" her master bedroom and ingested a special necromantic poison.

This unique toxin from the Rainforest Peninsula could imprison the soul within the corpse after death, preventing it from returning to the River of the Underworld.

If anyone were to dive into the shipwreck to attempt to confirm her death, they would be infected and controlled by the poison traps in the bedroom, eventually taking her corpse away to perform a lich transformation ritual.

Bethalia had made up her mind to become a lich. Even if she lost the joys and sorrows of the living, she would take revenge on the Temple of Light and the three great noble houses that had conspired to assassinate her!

She opened her eyes slowly.

The first sensation after becoming a lich was cold—intense cold.

It was the kind of cold one feels when shivering in a fierce sea breeze after being stripped of all clothing.

The second sensation was hunger—intense hunger.

It was as if a sleeping beauty who had slumbered for a thousand years suddenly awoke and her body desperately needed to replenish nutrients, but as an undead creature, a lich does not need to eat. This hunger was likely just the soul’s craving for magic.

The third sensation was strange—very strange.

A corpse has no eyes, so a lich cannot see the outside world. They must, immediately upon resurrection, construct a spell model of "undead vision" using their own magic and then fix it within their soul.

This spell cannot distinguish colors in the light, so the field of vision for a lich consists only of black and white; only the soul-fire of intelligent beings appears to them as red or even gold... hmm?

Bethalia, lying on the deck, looked up at the clear blue sky and uttered her first words since returning from the dead:

"How strange."

"There is nothing strange about it," Aeliana said, tossing a robe at her. "Get up and put this on."

Bethalia stood up and draped the robe over her body.

She had deep black, wavy hair and rose-red irises. She also had pointed ears, but her figure was significantly more voluptuous than Aeliana's, and her skin was a caramel-like chocolate color, exuding an alluring, bewitching aura.

"I thought I was dead," Bethalia said, clutching her chest and pouting at Aeliana as if aggrieved. "How am I suddenly alive again? And things here seem to have grown larger... Aeliana, do you know what is going on?"

Aeliana did not speak; she merely looked at Ren in silence, her gaze growing increasingly scornful and cold.

Of course, Ren would never admit that when he performed the flesh-revitalization ritual, he had, according to his own aesthetic and taste, slightly lengthened Aeliana's legs and slightly increased Bethalia's curves to make their existing assets more prominent.

"I will tell you," he said, skipping over Bethalia's question about her figure and speaking concisely. "This is the world a thousand years later. The brutal, evil White Walkers have returned, intending to drag the world back into the decaying embrace of the Old Gods."

"Bethalia, you are an ancient hero who fought against the White Walkers a millennium ago. The world needs you to raise your blade once more. Dedicate your power and knowledge to me!"

Bethalia stared at him blankly, then suddenly chuckled.

"That sounds like a bother. I refuse."

"You do not have the power to refuse," Ren said with an arrogant expression. "As an ancient hero resurrected by me, swearing loyalty to me is a duty you cannot shirk."

Bethalia’s face darkened. She realized, as expected, that her soul was indeed that of the undead, but it had been forcibly imprisoned within a living, active body by some extremely complex necromancy.

Not only that, but on the surface of her soul were near-countless runic patterns, designed specifically to ensure she could not act in any way that defied the will of the necromancer.

Aeliana looked coldly at this "old friend," seemingly attempting to find any trace of despair or frustration on her face.

"Very well," Bethalia confirmed, a sweet smile spreading across her face. "Since you resurrected me, serving you can be considered repaying the debt. What are we doing next?"

A lie.

Based on Aeliana's knowledge of Bethalia, she was certainly not the type to "repay kindness." Her display of submissive, soft behavior was merely because she had discovered she was a bird trapped in a cage, and she was trying to use feigned compliance to lull Ren into a false sense of security.

Of course, Aeliana had no intention of warning Ren.

"The Rainforest Peninsula is about to enter the rainy season," Ren said in a deep voice. "The Wild River will soon swell to the point of flooding, which will effectively slow the pace of the White Walkers' invasion."

"Once the rainy season passes, the frontline Dragon Peak City will inevitably be breached. How we organize the lizardman refugees within the city and migrate them across the mountains to Dragon Plain City in the north—that requires us to make full preparations during this rainy season."

"Do you intend to use my identity to request reinforcements and supplies from the dark elf royal court?" Bethalia twirled a lock of her hair with her finger, her expression indifferent. "That is fine. But I am an old hag who has been dead for a thousand years; I don't know if the current rulers of the kingdom will still heed my opinion."

"There is no longer a Dark Elf Kingdom," Aeliana said suddenly. "Seven hundred years ago, the Rose Dynasty you established collapsed entirely. The last queen was assassinated and died without issue. In the absence of a legal heir, the court affairs were handled by regents appointed by the Temple of Light."

"To this day, the dark elves have become accustomed to theocratic rule without an actual monarch. After each regent passes away, the Temple of Light oversees a drawing of lots, allowing the Red God to choose the next regent. Power is no longer passed down through the bloodline of the Rose family; it has been reduced to bread and salt distributed by the Temple of Light."

For a fleeting moment, Ren, Aeliana, and Daia all saw a flash of rage and hatred on Bethalia's face.

But her ability to manage her emotions was truly remarkable; almost immediately, she wore a brilliant smile again, her eyes curving as she said:

"Oh my, what are we to do then?"