Chapter 43: A Generous Helping Hand

Within the dream, inside the towering walls of Highrock City.

The Nightwraith Legion was locked in a fierce and bloody battle with demons.

The original "Ancient Battle of Highrock" contained no script for demons or heretics. Without a doubt, these sickening monsters had been specially summoned from the depths of the dreamscape by the mastermind behind the scenes in an attempt to block their approach to the ritual site.

This only served to inflame the legionnaires' fighting spirit even more: We are about to plunge our sharp blades straight into the heart of this damned place!

However, what brought them an even greater sense of profound reassurance was having Lord Ryan supporting them from within their ranks.

Ryan possessed exceptionally powerful divine life magic, capable of allowing injured imperial soldiers to swiftly recover their combat capabilities. This feat alone was enough to earn him the deep respect of everyone present.

At the same time, he would occasionally toss out a few strange spells that produced miraculous effects upon the battlefield.

For instance, when a rage-fiend charged forward, he would cast a frost spell into the pool of blood beneath its feet, turning it to ice and causing the fiend to slip midway through its charge. Or, when a metamorph swung its barbed whip or cast a spell, he would suddenly shoot out a mage hand, grab the creature's slender leg, and flip it crashing to the ground.

None of these spells possessed any direct lethal damage, yet time and again they successfully turned the tide of battle at crucial turning points. Consequently, the legionnaires developed an instinctive trust in him, and even began running over on their own accord to ask him, "What should we do next?"

Judge-Advocate Parrott watched the scene unfold in secret, his heart filled with silent astonishment.

He was an expert in tactical battle array command, but his expertise was strictly limited to face-to-face positional warfare. He was completely clueless about how a legion should coordinate with a mage, so he simply handed the decision-making authority entirely over to Ryan, concentrating solely on assistant command.

The Nightwraith Legion carved their way straight from the city interior to the gates of the High Keep, only to find that the drawbridge had been raised in advance.

In other words, they would either have to fill the defensive moat with earth and stones or bridge the gap using long siege ladders—and both options would evidently consume a significant amount of time. Once again, all eyes turned to Ryan for assistance.

"Wait a moment, let me prepare a spell," Ryan said. "Hand me a sword."

Everyone instantly felt a sense of relief. Another spell? That makes things easy.

Judge-Advocate Parrott eagerly brought forward a longsword. Ryan took it in his hand and pointed it lightly forward.

The drawbridge dropped with a heavy crash.

The legionnaires swarmed forward, only to see that the two anchor cables retracting the drawbridge had both been cleanly snapped.

How did he pull that off?

Never mind that—charge in first and figure it out later!

Ryan was the last to step into the castle hall, where he saw the legionnaires engaged in a fierce encirclement of a gigantic devil.

The devil here was clearly merely a projection, continuously spewing forth massive fireballs accompanied by foul language capable of inducing splitting headaches.

The warriors endured the pervasive mental onslaught, running and dodging the fireballs raining down from above. When they could no longer evade, they raised their shields over their heads, gritting their teeth and taking the explosions head-on at the cost of injury.

As Ryan stepped into the hall, he heard the arch-devil roar:

"You damned mortals! I am going to devour every last one of your souls!"

"Ryan!" Judge-Advocate Parrott quickly asked for instructions, "This devil is impervious to swords and spears!"

"A devil's projection cannot be killed," Ryan said with a frown. "Generally speaking, the only way is to banish it back to the Hells using its true name."

"Vile mortals!" The arch-devil spat a scorching torrent of flame toward Ryan and Parrott, but the two men nimbly stepped behind a pillar and easily avoided it. "You will never guess my true name!"

"Judging by its lack of intelligence, we can rule out the vast majority of arch-devils," Ryan explained behind the pillar to Parrott. "Devils are usually very smart, and there are only a few stupid ones. Let me think..."

The still-howling arch-devil instantly cut off its voice, hurriedly clamping its mouth shut and stopping even its foul-mouthed chants.

"Forget it, let's try them one by one," Ryan said loudly from behind the shelter of the pillar. "Kutisik Alosel Polagria, I banish you!"

The arch-devil remained silent, doggedly summoning a rain of meteoric fire that battered the surrounding Nightwraith soldiers in agony.

"Trofiel Razmian Trugriffin, I banish you!" Ryan continued his probe, calling out names.

"Stupid mortal! Stop trying to make me laugh!" The arch-devil let out a earth-shattering burst of wild laughter, causing the entire castle hall to seemingly tremble beneath the soundwaves. "You haven't the faintest idea what my true name is!"

"With laughter that gratingly ugly, I've guessed it!" Ryan laughed wildly in return. "Delibuch Kocsidalun Lalovliat! Get back down to your Hell!"

The arch-devil's laughter was cut short as abruptly as a duck seized by the throat. It attempted to unleash the most caustic and venomous evil sorcery to curse everyone present, but its form was thoroughly sucked into a sudden vortex, swiftly vanishing from the castle hall.

Immediately afterward, the entire dreamscape began to fracture piece by piece.

Awakening, Ryan slowly opened his eyes to find himself lying on the bed in his room.

Ellyrena stood leaning against the wall with her arms crossed, her eyes closed in feigned slumber; Beresahlia sat on the edge of the bed, her mouth chewing on something with a soft smacking sound.

"What are you eating?" Ryan asked.

"Oh, you're awake," Beresahlia turned her head. "I'm eating butter-fried oatmeal with fried shrimp. Want some?"

"How is the Nightwraith Legion?" Ryan had no interest in sharing her meal.

"It's over," Ellyrena said coldly from beside the door. "The heretics inside the castle have been executed. Also, the legion tribune was in cahoots with them and was put down by Beresahlia when he tried to assassinate you."

"Speaking of which, how did you know the tribune was an enemy traitor?" Beresahlia asked with lingering curiosity.

"It's not that difficult," Ryan sat up from the bed, speaking in a low voice. "Heretics don't launch a massive operation for no reason. Attacking the Imperial Legion constitutes a direct provocation against the Empire, and it requires sufficient benefits to make them willing to risk being purged afterward."

"Anyone capable of letting heretics hide within the legion encampment without being discovered has to be either an executive magistrate or a judge-advocate. Considering the judge-advocate was trapped inside the dreamscape, it was most likely one of the two magistrates who had defected to the heretics, hoping to use this opportunity to eliminate the other and seize sole command within the legion."

"A sound deduction," Ellyrena nodded slightly.

"So, regardless of whether the traitor was the legion commander or the tribune, they would worry that if the heretics were captured, they might rat them out," Beresahlia said with a smile. "You personally entered the dreamscape to disrupt the heretics' plans, and since they couldn't do anything to you inside the dream, they would naturally think of eliminating you in reality."

"Thus baiting the traitor into taking a desperate gamble and making a move," Ellyrena added.

Ryan did not reply, simply looking out the window and asking, "What time is it?"

"Evening," Beresahlia said. "The Nightwraith Legion is holding a victory celebration banquet in the castle hall. The legion commander came by earlier to check and see if you had woken up yet..."

Just then, another knock sounded from outside the door.

Ellyrena went to open it, revealing the legion commander once again returning to check on Ryan's condition, accompanied by legion soldiers carrying banquet food and fine wine.

"Lord Faher, you are finally awake," he said with glowing enthusiasm, acting like a completely different person compared to the cold indifference of their first meeting. "Not knowing when you would wake up, I had the kitchen keep the prepared delicacies and wine warm for you. Please enjoy."

"How is the legion?" Ryan asked.

"The gods protect us, most of the brothers are fine," the legion commander motioned for the soldiers to put down the food and leave the room. "Although some will never wake up again, at least the rest were saved because of it. We owe all of this to you for personally taking risks and providing life-saving support to the brothers trapped within the curse."

"Tell me, what about that traitorous tribune?" Ellyrena asked suddenly.

"Albert is no longer our tribune," the legion commander's expression darkened as he said solemnly. "I have packed up his corpse along with the heretics' bodies, plus the irrefutable evidence of their crimes we discovered in the basement, and sent the whole lot straight to the Imperial Capital. I trust His Majesty the Emperor will mete out a just and severe judgment upon him."

"Mm," Ryan nodded slightly, continuing, "With the tribune eliminated, the Nightwraith Legion belongs entirely to you alone now, doesn't it?"

"I do not take your meaning, Lord Faher," the legion commander put on his hearty, amicable smile once more.

"Never mind," Ryan slowly got out of bed. "Then, may I assume that I have earned your sincere friendship?"

"Of course," the legion commander smiled. "Myself, Claudius Pantoreus, and the Eighth Imperial 'Nightwraith' Legion shall forever remember this generous assistance of yours."