Page 157

Chapter 157: The Knight's Submission

"Awooo—"

With a harrowing wail, the lion spirit was consumed in the inferno.

The lion spirit wasn’t merely a tool of offense and defense—it was the embodiment of the Lionheart Knights’ collective will.

As the spirit was destroyed, a mental shock reverberated through the knights, leaving them with splitting headaches. Some even trembled as they tried to hold their shields.

Cassius hadn’t even unleashed a full-power breath. By merely amplifying the elemental reactions within his flames, this fiery attack consumed almost no energy.

"Boom—"

The breath, initially spread in a conical shape, soon condensed into a blazing pillar of fire.

The flames shifted from dark red to orange, then yellow, and finally an intense, blinding white.

The silver shields glowed red-hot, transmitting unbearable heat even to their scorching handles.

"Damn it!"

A Lionheart Knight couldn’t hold on and dropped his shield.

He was immediately engulfed in flames, turning to ash.

Under the white-hot pillar, the massive shield formation melted, liquefied silver dripping and flowing.

"Ahh!"

"I’m burning alive!"

"Damn it, it’s melting!"

"Fire! It’s everywhere!"

Agonizing screams echoed through the Lionheart Knights’ formation.

Some knights burned alive, others suffocated from the searing smoke, and some were engulfed in molten silver, frozen into struggling statues.

Fried barely maintained his protective aura, desperately resisting the fiery onslaught.

"The 'Hellish calamity' truly lives up to his name—this is hell on earth."

He gazed up at the heavens, where the radiant white flames descended like divine retribution. Around him, his comrades died in torment, their cries echoing endlessly.

Yet amidst the carnage, a strange calm washed over Fried’s face—perhaps the tranquility of impending death.

"How could we ever win? Even someone like Tarik couldn’t defeat this monster."

"If... if it were Tarik, what would he do?"

Fried lowered his head as memories consumed him.

He realized he had never truly been that kind of person.

Loyalty, bravery, justice—these qualities had never resonated with someone as naturally cold and indifferent as himself.

Indeed, he was not the illustrious "White Lion Knight." He hadn’t single-handedly defeated hundreds of enemy heroes. Even as one of the Lionheart Knights’ captains, he had never followed in that fallen knight’s footsteps. He had only been clumsily imitating Tarik.

"Why am I not dead yet?"

The red dragon in the sky halted his fiery assault, his golden eyes scanning the charred battlefield.

"To those who have endured my flames, I admire your resilience."

His voice boomed across the land, full of majesty.

"Submit to me. Serve the Ember Kingdom, and I shall grant you great power and long life!"

"Refuse, and death will be your only fate!"

The surviving Lionheart Knights glared up at the dragon, defiance burning in their eyes.

As the Bosk Duchy’s most elite knights, they were nobles raised with the finest training, bound by sacred oaths. They embodied not just their individual honor but also that of their families.

To become the minions of an evil dragon was not only a personal disgrace but also a stain upon their families.

"You delusional monster!"

Vice-Captain Jaden staggered to his feet, sword trembling in his grip, and fired a beam of guiding light at the dragon.

He knew the attack was futile, but as a knight, it was his final act of defiance—an embodiment of the courage to charge an invincible foe.

As expected, the light dissipated before reaching its target.

A fireball descended immediately after, reducing Jaden to ashes.

"Such courage. But your strength is unworthy of it."

Cassius remarked coldly.

The remaining knights, witnessing Jaden’s death, were undeterred. Their anger only grew.

"Evil dragon, your tyranny will end!"

"My death is not the end—there will always be resistance!"

"For the Bosk Duchy! For Duke Leo!"

These knights, ever loyal to the Bosk family, saw dying to such a formidable foe as a badge of honor. Faced with certain death, they embraced the role of doomed heroes, recklessly charging at the red dragon like Quixotic figures tilting at windmills.

"Boom! Boom! Boom!"

One by one, fireballs rained down from the dragon’s maw, striking the knights with pinpoint accuracy.

Flesh burned, firelight flickered across the plains, and anguished cries echoed as the Lionheart Knights fell one by one.

Soon, only one remained—the "Black Lion Knight," Fried.

Unlike the other noble knights, Fried, raised in a monastery, had no family. His only kin-like bond had been with Tarik.

Moments ago, he too had tried to charge like his comrades, fulfilling his final duty as a Lionheart Knight.

Yet, he couldn’t compel his body to march toward certain death.

Such was his nature—indifferent to loyalty, honor, and the knightly code.

For his entire life, Fried had followed Tarik’s lead, never living for himself.

"I am not Tarik. I’m not even a true Lionheart Knight."

"I am merely myself."

"A selfish, opportunistic coward."

Fried whispered these words to himself.

The massive red dragon landed with a thunderous crash, shaking the ground and cracking the earth.

Cassius towered over Fried, his golden eyes gleaming with amusement. He had seen through the knight’s inner turmoil and indecision, finding it entertaining.

Without unnecessary words, the dragon simply declared:

"Submit or die."

"I..."

"Submit."

Fried gritted his teeth and bowed his head.

Like a fateful decision, the once-proud "Black Lion Knight" surrendered to the dragon, yielding to his former enemy.

The pocket watch engraved with the mark of Heironeous, God of Valor, fell to the ground, gathering dust. It seemed it had never truly belonged to Fried—not for a single moment.

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