Page 48

Medrolash quickly rose through the ranks, becoming a squad leader of the city guard in Northwind Fortress, charged with maintaining order and protecting the city.

During this time, he found a tiefling wife whom he loved, soon having a child of his own, and even purchased a loft in the city. Life seemed to be heading in a beautiful direction.

But one day, everything changed.

That day, he was dutifully investigating a series of disappearances in the city, unaware of the strange looks people cast at him, taking it as nothing unusual.

But then, the “Duke” gave a speech.

Those seemingly friendly human neighbors transformed overnight, raising torches and storming into his home, tying his wife and child to a pyre and burning them alive.

By the time he rushed to the scene, everything he had was reduced to ashes. His former comrades were slaughtering his kin as if they were cattle.

Medrolash, weeping, swung his silver sword and killed all the perpetrators present.

He became an Oathbreaker.

The blazing light of redemption within him had been extinguished, leaving only darkness. The harsh reality had shattered his innocent ideals.

“What a naive fool.”

He repeated the words.

Suddenly, an urgent horn sounded outside the cave.

Medrolash snapped back to reality, grabbed his longsword, and hurried out of the cave.

“What’s happening?”

The guard stationed at the camp entrance looked panicked: “It’s yetis! More than one yeti!”

“Awoooo—”

In the deadly cold, the yetis’ howls echoed across the remote mountains, sweeping down the hillside with the wind, filling the hearts of the gathered tieflings with dread.

These creatures could smell fresh blood from miles away and track it through the snowstorm.

Medrolash looked up and saw dozens of ghostly white figures surging down the slope like a wave.

“Everyone, prepare for battle!”

“Damacus, take them down!”

The tiefling warrior called Damacus nodded grimly, drawing his bowstring to its full length.

“Thwack—”

With a sharp whistle as it sliced through the air, an arrow embedded itself in the center of a yeti’s forehead, bringing it crashing down.

Behind him, several other tiefling warriors raised their bows and fired as well.

But they were shooting uphill through a snowstorm, and unlike their captain, they lacked the skill to reliably land their shots. Most arrows quickly sank into the snow.

Damacus fired several more arrows.

Seven shots, two hits—two more yetis fell.

In this harsh weather, the yetis moved through the snow like phantoms. Even for a skilled archer like Damacus, maintaining accuracy was impossible, and they couldn’t stop the yetis’ tidal onslaught.

“This isn’t working, Medrolash! The snow’s too thick!”

“I can’t see clearly!”

Damacus shouted, loosing another arrow that felled a yeti.

But the wave of yetis had closed to within a hundred meters of the camp.

If these hungry, bloodthirsty yetis were allowed to breach the nearly defenseless camp, it would be an unmitigated disaster.

“Follow me! We’ll engage them outside!”

Medrolash raised his sword, with over forty tieflings following behind him.

These tieflings were sparsely armed; some had no blades and could only brandish pitchforks and torches, but their eyes were unwavering.

They may have once been merchants, clerks, artists, but now, to protect the camp and their loved ones, they had to—and would—become warriors.

The yetis, observing the approaching tieflings, felt their primal craving for flesh intensify.

These creatures, over three meters tall, were covered in snowy white fur. Their massive, muscular bodies saw ordinary tieflings merely as exposed food.

Medrolash, leading from the front, charged toward a yeti.

But the yeti didn’t immediately attack. Instead, it stared at the tiefling with a sinister gaze.

“Chilling Gaze.”

Its small eyes glowed an eerie blue—an icy stare that could freeze its prey on the spot.

The gaze hit Medrolash, sending a bone-chilling cold through him, nearly freezing him in place.

“Damn monster.”

Medrolash cursed, using his robust body to endure the freezing cold as he extended a finger.

“Infernal Rebuke!”

Suddenly, the yeti was engulfed in hellish flames, letting out a pained wail.

The fire-averse creature’s fur caught the inextinguishable flames, causing it to frantically slap at its body.

“Die!”

With a fierce shout, Medrolash leaped several meters and slashed off the burning yeti’s head.

Another nearby yeti attempted to use its chilling gaze, but it no longer affected Medrolash.

“Sweeping Slash!”

Using his momentum, Medrolash drove his sword deep into another yeti’s shoulder.

“Aaargh!”

The yeti let out a cry of pain, instinctively slamming its broad palm down on the tiefling.

“Inflict Wounds!”

A dark green aura of decay spread from his sword, corroding and widening the wound on the yeti.

In the next moment, using this force, Medrolash tore off the yeti’s entire left shoulder along with its arm.

Blue blood splattered across the tiefling’s face, but his expression remained unflinching.

After taking down two yetis, he surveyed the battlefield, seeing that the tieflings were fully engaged with the yetis, several warriors already frozen into statues by the yetis’ chilling gaze.

Just as another tiefling began to be covered in ice, about to be frozen—

“Aura of Protection!”

A crimson glow surrounded Medrolash, shielding him and his allies from the yetis’ chilling gaze, preventing the other tiefling from freezing further.

He strode forward and drove his sword into a yeti’s heart.

“Awoooo—”

More yetis closed in, twelve in total, like a white wave converging from all sides, intent on killing the tiefling paladin first.

As the horde of yetis loomed, Medrolash maintained a calm expression and raised his sword high.

“Oathbreaker’s Divine Power...”

“Dreadful Aspect!”

Channeling his darkest emotions, the Oathbreaker unleashed a terrifying aura of magical intimidation.

A crimson light burst from his sword, spreading outward rapidly.

Every yeti around him saw their worst fears, falling into an inescapable terror, frozen in place.

To Medrolash, they were now nothing more than stationary targets.

“Sweeping Slash!”

His sword sliced across the throats of several yetis, blood splattering everywhere.

Within a few breaths, twelve towering beasts toppled backward, and not a single yeti around him remained standing.

“Huff, huff, huff...”

Kneeling and supporting himself on his sword, Medrolash gasped for breath.