Chapter 10: Year-End Sacrifice
December 31st, the last day of the year, night.
Amidst the falling snow, a massive stone platform was erected in the main square of Moldavia. This bluish-gray stone platform was enormous, with a depression in the center and many strange patterns carved upon it, resembling an altar. Over a dozen knights in gleaming armor patrolled back and forth around it, black-bordered golden banners stood on either side, and several torches blazed fiercely around the square.
That afternoon, the knights had received instructions from their lord and, adhering to long-standing tradition, quickly built this massive stone platform during the night. They lit oil torches around it that were difficult to extinguish, illuminating the entire square brilliantly.
Around the venue, many citizens wearing thick cotton coats stood in a circle around the great platform. They gathered together, loudly chatting about recent amusing events, and more often than not, exchanging blessings and complaints about the year's harvest and labor.
The new year was about to begin.
This year, Moldavia was exceptionally different from previous years. It wasn't the passing of the old lord and the ascension of the young new lord, nor was it the Black Tide being larger than in years past—the biggest difference was the new lord's formidable strength.
And it was strength far greater than anyone had imagined.
In mid-October, the old lord had died for unknown reasons, and a group of unfamiliar knights, led by a fat man, had captured the main city and occupied the Lord's Manor. They declared a curfew and martial law, dispatched many wandering warriors to patrol the streets, and refused to allow dragon-cart merchant caravans to trade freely in the market, all while displaying an exceptionally fierce attitude.
How could the generally well-governed, simple, kind, and amiable residents of the Northern Lands tolerate such a thing? Just as many people had prepared their household knives and iron shovels, ready to teach these strangers a lesson, the new lord—whom many older residents had watched grow up—returned.
To be honest, no one knew how this new lord had dealt with those dozens of Silver-rank knights, because it happened so quickly. From the loud crash at the city gate to the collapse of the Lord's Manor, the interval was no more than three hours. Many people had merely finished breakfast when they were astonished to find that the group of unfamiliar knights who had just moved in had all been dealt with—along with a Gold-rank warrior who had come from who knows where.
The new lord, named Joshua, forcefully declared his succession to the title of Count, becoming the new lord of this land. Naturally, no one objected. Who would complain about having a leader who was too strong? For the straightforward people of the Northern Lands, having sufficient strength was the most important thing. After all, as long as it wasn't some fool like the previous one, who ruled was all the same—so why not let the strongest do it?
"I heard that if it weren't for Lord Joshua, the Black Forest Fortress would have been breached by the Black Tide."
Among the crowd, a middle-aged man dressed like a hunter stroked his greasy, thick beard and spoke with a fisherman beside him. He looked somewhat emotional: "My son and his family live in Ore Town, not far from the fortress. If the fortress had fallen and magical beasts flooded into the territory, I don't know what we would have done."
"Without the lord, we would have just waited to die."
The fisherman shook his head, seeming taciturn. He glanced at the stone platform and muttered, "I wonder what it will be this year..."
"I think it should be a bear beast or a great ice snake. The Black Tide just erupted recently, and most of the monsters that don't hibernate are dead. There are probably only a few hibernating bears and snakes left in the forest that survived."
Sensing that the person beside him wasn't in the mood to talk, the hunter shrugged and muttered to himself, "I wonder how many lucky ones will get a piece."
It wasn't just these two; everyone was discussing excitedly. But suddenly, the noise in the square naturally decreased, faded, and fell into silence.
Feeling an inexplicable sense of oppression, the hunter frowned. He sensed a pressure coming from afar. Looking up, he saw a red dot streaking through the falling snow in the distant night sky, trailing a long crimson band of light. The pressure emanating from this dot was greater and denser than any magical beast he had ever encountered, making it hard to breathe, yet strangely, it didn't feel threatening.
"What..."
Before he could finish his instinctive question, the hunter saw the distant dot suddenly accelerate, appearing at the edge of the city as if teleporting, and then above the square. A gust of bloody wind swept through, and a strong smell of blood filled everyone's nostrils. A massive black shadow slowly descended, accompanied by a red glow of Battle Qi. This scene jolted a large portion of the citizens, who had been stunned by the earlier pressure, back to their senses.
"Boom, boom, boom..."
Only then did the sonic boom slowly arrive from afar.
Dispelling the Battle Qi that surged around him, repelling gravity, the black-haired warrior hovered in mid-air. In his right hand, he held the silver-haired girl; on his back, he carried the massive, headless body of a wyvern; and in his left hand, he held the wyvern's head, its eyes still wide open in anger. The warrior slowly descended under the astonished gaze of the crowd in the square.
Seeing this, the people below were silent for a moment, then quickly erupted into huge exclamations and cheers:
"Gods, what is that on the lord's back and in his hand?!"
"A dragon? Is that a dragon?"
"Is this year's Year-End Sacrifice using a dragon as an offering?!"
"No, it's just a wyvern, not a pure-blooded dragon, but that's still enough!" An experienced old adventurer quickly identified the owner of the huge head in the warrior's hand, his expression shocked: "It's an Ice Fang Wyvern! Gods, last year it was just an Armored Thorn Boar. Both were Silver-rank, but the difference is huge... Are we going to eat dragon meat this year?"
As Joshua slowly descended, he casually threw the massive dragon body from his back into the depression in the center of the platform. The frozen stiff meat collided with the stone, making a dull thud. Stepping onto the bluish-gray rock, the warrior looked around at the crowd below—a dense sea of people filled the square, almost half the city's population had come here.
A slight smile curled at the corner of his mouth, and Joshua showed a grin.
The Continent of Strife had many customs and festivals. Not to mention the Emperor's birthday and the founding day, the New Birth Festival in early spring, the Midsummer Night's Star Cluster Sacrifice, and the Autumn Harvest Carnival were all very famous holidays. All humans, and even elves and dwarves, would hold the same celebrations on the same day.
And the New Year was naturally one of them.
As a tradition passed down for a thousand years, as the lord, Joshua needed to hunt a high-rank magical beast during the New Year celebration to share with his knights and people. This symbolized that the human spirit of conquering nature would never be extinguished and demonstrated his own strength to protect his people.
Gold-rank magical beasts were rare and hard to come by, especially after the Black Tide. Even Joshua couldn't find any remaining Gold-rank magical beasts. But a Silver high-rank wyvern should be enough to prove his strength.
Amidst the noisy clamor of the square, Joshua remained silent. He stood on the stone platform, raised the dragon's head in his hand, and showed it to the crowd. The wyvern's unblinking, dead eyes seemed to startle some people, but then even louder cheers and praises erupted—even such a terrifying beast had died at the hands of their lord. While somewhat frightening, it unexpectedly brought a sense of reassurance, allowing them to tend their fields in peace.
Unlike the distant news of repelling the Black Tide and aiding Moldova, ordinary people who hadn't seen Joshua fight couldn't fully understand the warrior's strength, so they still harbored some doubts. But now, in front of this ferocious dragon head and body, any remaining doubts had completely vanished.
"No wonder he's a strongman who has repelled the Black Tide twice in a row..."
An adventurer carrying a large shield stood among the citizens. He looked at his calloused hands and sighed in a somewhat muffled voice: "Moldavia, Moldova—this year's two Black Tides in the Northern Lands were practically repelled by him. And now he can casually capture and kill a Silver high-rank wyvern. When will I ever reach that level..."
Not paying attention to the crowd's heated discussion, the warrior placed the dragon head, which was even larger than his own body, on the stone platform. To be honest, Joshua was very satisfied with the wyvern's expression. After the celebration ended, he planned to have it processed and then use it as a decoration in the future Lord's Manor hall.
After waiting a bit longer for the discussion to subside, Joshua took a step forward. He stood at the edge of the stone platform, looked down at the crowd, and then spoke loudly:
"People of Moldavia!"
The warrior's voice was not particularly loud, but it clearly reached everyone's ears, as if he were speaking right beside them. The crowd immediately fell silent, all eyes focused on the black-haired warrior.
"This year, the Black Tide has been fierce, and the territory has faced many challenges. But I am here, and I will protect this land!"
Joshua's voice was firm and powerful, carrying an undeniable authority: "This wyvern is my offering to you all, a symbol of my strength and my determination to protect you!"
"Eat well, celebrate well, and welcome the new year!"
As his voice fell, the crowd erupted into thunderous cheers. People raised their hands, shouting the lord's name, their faces filled with excitement and reverence.
Joshua smiled slightly, then turned and walked off the stone platform, leaving the crowd to begin the distribution of the wyvern meat.
In the distance, within the Lord's Manor, Countess Verdani and the blonde swordsman Brandon stood by a window, watching the scene in the square.
"He really knows how to win people's hearts," Verdani said with a light laugh, her eyes sparkling with admiration.
"Indeed," Brandon nodded, his expression thoughtful. "But this is just a small return. I feel it's not enough at all, and I can't let you prepare a return gift alone."
Taking the small box from Verdani's hand, Brandon recalled the warrior reciting those long-lost sacred words before the Space-Time Gate. He muttered to himself, "Even if it's just for further recognition from the Order Twin Blades, I should send a grand gift... Alright, once I return to the Imperial Capital, I'll start preparing immediately."
"I think, compared to a gift, he would rather have a fight with you."
Hearing this, the countess covered her mouth and chuckled softly. She gazed tenderly at the blonde swordsman, her eyes full of mirth: "But, my swordsman, do you have the confidence to defeat him?"
"Although Joshua is indeed strong, clearly several levels above me... but as for confidence, of course I have it."
Clenching his fists, Brandon turned his head to look at the overcast sky outside the window, his eyes full of confidence: "No matter what, between warriors, you only know after you fight."
—Far away, the Three Mountains City, the Imperial Capital of the Empire.
The light of the twin moons shone upon the entire city. The white marble city walls reflected the elegant moonlight, appearing incredibly sacred.
Nostradamus stood atop an observatory tower in the center of the Imperial Capital. He looked up at the sky, his expression somewhat strange.
"The weather is fine, but the fluctuation of Arcane Power isn't very suitable for teleportation..."
The white-haired old mage muttered to himself, then shook his head: "Oh well, since all the matters in the Imperial Capital are handled, I have plenty of time. I don't think I'll end up too far off course."
If the teleportation goes wrong, just teleport again.
Thinking of this so-called emergency method in his mind, the white-haired old man immediately pulled out a scroll. Nostradamus chanted a few secret words, then activated it with his mind. Instantly, the scroll turned into a ball of flame, attaching itself to his hand. The Imperial Chief Archmage extended his burning right hand and drew a line in the void, leaving a clear scratch in space.
The flame burned fiercely, then turned into a blue-green light. The scratch slowly expanded and deepened, and a dark blue door silently opened, appearing before the white-haired mage.
Behind this door was a vast plain covered in snow and ice, stretching endlessly into the distance.
"It seems the destination is correct. It is indeed the Northern Lands."
Nodding, confirming his target, Nostradamus straightened his mage robe and strode boldly towards the Space-Time Gate.
(To be continued)