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The Great Frost Yeti sensed the danger of this attack, so it quickly prepared, icy shards forming deep in its throat as an intense chill spread toward the tiefling paladin.

“Frost Breath!”

But Medrolash pushed forward through the biting wind, gripping his sword and slashing down hard.

The yeti tilted its head, and the blade struck one of its coiled horns, slowly slicing through. Yet, the yeti countered with tremendous strength, shaking its horns violently to prevent Medrolash from delivering a concentrated blow.

Medrolash’s protective aura flickered around him, barely holding back the creeping cold.

Blood poured from the yeti’s severed arm, and Medrolash’s body began to freeze; this was a fight for survival to the very end.

The two were locked in a deadly stalemate, each intent on destroying the other.

Then, unexpectedly, the situation changed.

“Boom!”

Several fiery blasts struck the yeti’s back, scorching its fur and destabilizing it.

The flames burned deep, searing the frigid blood in its veins.

Weak from the pain, the Great Frost Yeti let out an agonized howl, reflexively releasing the tiefling and flinging him aside.

It whirled around, beating its chest to intimidate the sneaky attacker.

What it saw, however, was a blazing inferno.

“Extreme Flame Breath!”

Instantly, the snow evaporated, and steam rose from the now-exposed ground.

The once-mighty yeti stood there, its body charred and emitting the scent of burnt flesh.

A slight breeze passed, and its body crumbled, scattering as ash into the wind.

“Tsk, weak against fire.”

Cassius folded his wings, landing squarely on the yeti’s remnants, now ash on the ground.

His status panel updated.

[You killed the Great Frost Yeti (Challenge Level 9), gaining 5000 XP.]

[Your level has increased to 6.]

The thrill of snatching a kill felt satisfying—a powerful Level 9 beast, downed with one blow.

As the Great Frost Yeti turned to dust, the other yetis scattered, retreating into the snowy mountains.

Although the yetis fled, the tieflings remained on edge.

– For now, they faced an even more powerful, unpredictable red dragon.

Although it had killed the Great Frost Yeti for them, none knew if this dragon was friend or foe, especially given the notorious cruelty of red dragons.

The tiefling warriors, swords and shields at the ready, eyed the dragon cautiously, tense but unwilling to provoke it.

Medrolash, supporting himself with his longsword, struggled to rise from the snow.

He tried to remain calm as he observed the red dragon before him—a massive creature, eight to nine meters long, muscular, its bright metallic scales glinting, and a sulfuric heat radiating from its mouth, like a volcano simmering within.

A powerful red dragon—impossible to defeat.

This was his final assessment.

Known for their brutality, red dragons were infamous for incinerating any who dared provoke them.

Recently, the most infamous red dragon in the Storm Highlands was none other than “Flying Flame,” the one who had slaughtered the Eagle Guards.

And the enemy of one’s enemy could indeed be a friend.

With this thought, he issued his command:

“Lay down your weapons.”

The tiefling warriors, though reluctant, obeyed, dropping their weapons.

Medrolash sheathed his sword and, with difficulty, bowed in respect.

“Honorable ‘Flying Flame,’ thank you for aiding us in defeating our enemy. When we’re able, we will provide you with sufficient compensation to show our sincerity.”

“But, if I may ask... what brings you here?”

Cassius gazed down at the tiefling, replying with an amused tone:

“Are you the leader of the tiefling rebels?”

“The so-called Hellspawn who supposedly feasts on three humans every meal?”

Medrolash’s expression remained unchanged as he replied coolly:

“Those are merely slanders from the Lackman family. Surely, you know well the arrogance of those bloodsucking parasites, who invade even your lands without restraint.”

Cassius looked down at the tiefling and said, “A fine response, but mere words and this pitiful army won’t help you survive Anzeta’s winter.”

Medrolash respectfully replied:

“You anticipated this; that’s why you’re here, is it not?”

Cassius shook his head lightly and said, “Honestly, you’re insignificant to me. You, perhaps, have a little value, but the rest of the tieflings may be worth less than a crate of silver.”

Medrolash spoke resolutely: “But I will fight to the death for them, offering my life if needed.”

Cassius narrowed his eyes and said, “I can assist you in resisting the Lackman family’s forces.”

“But you’re already their enemy; this has nothing to do with the tieflings.”

Cassius scoffed, shaking his head as he replied:

“But I can decide your fate. If I chose to negotiate with the Lackmans and disclose your location, granting them military access, can you imagine what would happen next?”

“Frankly, you lack the leverage to bargain with me.”

He continued:

“Consider this: the Embers Nest could also be a sanctuary for the tieflings.”

“I could offer protection, help you survive the winter, and... fend off the Eagle Guards hunting you.”

Confronted with this tempting offer, Medrolash’s breathing quickened slightly.

His idealism had long been extinguished; now, his only wish was to keep his people alive.

And that chance was standing right before him.

The tiefling hesitated briefly before speaking slowly:

“Then, my lord...”

“What is the price?”

This tiefling paladin, weathered despite his youth, understood well that everything came at a cost. There were no free meals in this world—only unexpected hatred.

Cassius leaned closer, his words like the whispers of a devil:

“Northwind Fortress.”

“I want you and your kin to become my followers and help me seize it.”

Medrolash lifted his head slightly, noting the inferno-like flames reflected in the dragon’s golden eyes.

Once, he had yearned for light and redemption, walking the path of kindness and justice. Even after breaking his oath, he still upheld his paladin’s code as much as possible, trying to retain his nature.

But now, for survival—for the most basic chance to live on—he had to make this choice.

To become a vassal to the dragon and help him capture the fortress.

“Yes, Master.”

“The tiefling tribe is willing to follow your will.”

Medrolash, the once-oathbound paladin who had sworn to kneel only to the divine, bent his knee in submission.