Chapter 124: Final Battle to Suppress the Rebellion(4)

Of course, if Charlotte formed the contract, she would just have to prepare herself to join the maid corps!

“Ahem… what strange things am I thinking about?”

Phield patted his head, clearing away the stray thoughts before letting out a long breath. Recently, every Divine Chosen he had encountered seemed to carry deep resentment, as if forming a contract with them was equivalent to asking for their lives.

“I…”

Charlotte clenched her fists. She desperately wanted to refuse, but that red-hot iron weapon was right beside her, radiating a terrifying aura. The moment she imagined what it might do, cold sweat immediately trickled down her back. Then she looked at Phield’s expressionless face. After struggling for a long time, she finally nodded meekly.

“I agree,” Charlotte said through gritted teeth. “But… but I also have a condition.”

“Alright. Let’s hear it.” Now that the matter was settled, Phield was curious about why she had been so determined to avoid being contracted.

“If… I mean if possible… please help me take revenge. And also restore my country.” Charlotte’s lips trembled as tears welled up again. She sat down on the ground and curled into a ball, hugging her knees as tears streamed down her face. “My people were all slaughtered by the heretics…”

She carried deep hatred within her heart. That was why she had wanted to find a powerful noble—someone capable of helping her avenge her people against the heretics.

“I see. That’s understandable.”

The hatred of a destroyed homeland could drive a person to give up everything.

Seeing her cry so hard that even snot bubbles appeared, Phield sighed sympathetically and handed her a handkerchief.

“Although I sympathize with your situation, I have to point out one thing. Even a powerful empire failed to stop the heretics’ advance. Which noble do you think could help you take revenge?”

“Uh…”

Charlotte’s crying stopped abruptly. She blinked in confusion and thought for a moment. The light in her eyes faded.

“Why does it feel even more depressing after you said that?”

“Historical tides don’t change because of individual will.”

Phield shrugged.

“Besides, even if a truly powerful noble stood before you—someone capable of defeating the heretics—why would he contract you? Influential nobles always contract the strongest members of their families. If he abandoned a sixth- or seventh-tier Divine Chosen to accept you instead, he’d be kicked out of power by his rivals the very next day.”

In this world, a person could only contract one Divine Chosen—and it had to be of the same race.

Therefore, those who stood at the top always contracted the most powerful ones available.

“I… I…”

Charlotte stammered for a long time. When she finally understood the reality of it, she stood there blankly.

“So the revenge I’ve been dreaming about… was just a bubble.”

A noble might be an idiot, but cruel reality would eventually filter them out. Anyone who stood at the top had to possess enough strength to support their position.

Although a Divine Chosen would never lack suitors, entering the core circle of the highest nobles required far more than first-tier strength.

“Don’t be so upset. The Sacred Griffin Empire borders the former Purple Gold Empire. Sooner or later the Empress will wage war against the heretics. You may still have a chance for revenge.” Phield thrust the lance into the soil and casually drew a grand vision in the air with his hand. “If you contribute more to Nightfall Domain, then in the future the soldiers of Nightfall Domain might kill one more enemy. Look at it that way—doesn’t it feel better?”

“…Yeah. It actually does.”

Charlotte broke into a tearful smile. She wiped her tears with the handkerchief and blew her nose loudly before handing the damp cloth back to Phield.

“Thanks. Here, take it back.”

“No need. You keep it.”

Phield’s mouth twitched slightly as he silently stepped back two paces.

Charlotte dusted off the dirt from her clothes and stood up, clearing her throat with a proud expression.

“Even though you’re only a baron, and your strength is pretty weak, I recognize you.”

“Hmph. I’m the most promising lord in the Northern Province. You can go ask around—it’s common knowledge.” Phield let out a long breath and raised his eyebrows.

“Really? That’s great then.” Charlotte looked as happy as a skylark spreading its wings. There was still dirt and tear marks on her face, and her grin made her look adorably foolish.

Phield silently thought to himself:

Well, considering I’m the only lord left in the Northern Province—every other lord is dead—they definitely won’t object.

Brushing aside his hair, Phield saw the appearance of a new Goddess Mark.

The mark emitted a soft golden glow, forming the gentle and kind illusion of a goddess. Then a stream of divine power flowed into Phield’s body.

Name: Charlotte Barreau

Rank: Tier One (Harvest Divine Chosen)

Class: Nature Priest

Divine Skill:

Song of Bountiful Harvest — By singing praise to farmland, crop yields are greatly increased, with a small chance of producing golden crops. Consuming these crops slightly increases strength, though the effect gradually diminishes with repeated consumption.

Divine Artifact:

Seed Pouch of Hope — Seeds stored within it will gradually improve their variety.

Legion Skill: None

Territorial Bonus: Within the lord’s domain, grasses (oats, wheat, rice) gain a ten percent increase in yield.

“Good. Nightfall Domain’s agriculture is finally settled.” Phield’s eyes lit up with excitement.

Don’t underestimate that mere ten percent increase. Combined with the divine skill and artifact, the production output would become terrifying—enough to support a far larger population.

Where some rejoiced, others worried.

…

Space tore open as the shadow and Perrier reappeared simultaneously. Neither had gained the upper hand.

Perrier wasted no words and immediately prepared to attack again, but the shadow flashed away and returned to the city.

Inside Nogaisk, within the lord’s hall, the rebel high command had already gathered.

The atmosphere was suffocatingly tense.

Men and women bound upon the altar cried and wailed loudly. The shadow flew back into the hall, glanced briefly at the wounded fighters, and said nothing. Instead, she raised her hand toward the altar and swung it down.

“Pfft!”

The men and women were instantly crushed into fragments by an invisible pressure. Their blood flowed along the grooves carved into the altar, slowly gathering and finally streaming into a dark golden chalice at its center.

Yet even with such a large amount of blood pouring in, the liquid within the chalice rose only slightly.

“This is the final batch.” A priest in luxurious robes knelt to the ground.

“Half of Itavon Province’s pure souls, and this is all it yields?” The shadow sounded displeased. She lifted the chalice and drained it in a single gulp.

Her form instantly became thirty percent more solid, now barely resembling the figure of a human woman. Her voice trembled with excitement.

“Still seventy percent more… we’re getting close… so close.”

“Rebirth is never easy. Otherwise resurrected people would be everywhere.” Eliza stepped out from the darkness, offering the shadow a gentle smile. “I hope you won’t forget our friendship. Whether lending you the Nirvana Holy Grail or stealing the Eye of Ancient Vows, we paid a price beyond measure.”

“Of course. I will remember your generosity and righteousness.” The shadow took out the Eye of Ancient Vows and watched as it slowly crumbled into dust. “Unfortunately, nothing lasts forever. What succeeded in Itavon Province cannot be replicated.”

For a mere shadow to hold out so long against the fifth-tier Divine Chosen Perrier—it was all thanks to the power of the Eye of Ancient Vows.

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