Chapter 3

"Ignite the fire!"

Kalad's icy voice echoed across the plaza.

With a sinister laugh, the executioner mercilessly tossed the burning torch toward the oil-soaked pyre.

Bound to the wooden stake, Ereven's dull eyes held not a single trace of a desire to live.

She didn't struggle. She just closed her eyes in despair, waiting for the raging flames to swallow her "sinful" body.

"Insolent fools, how dare you?!"

I let out a beast-like roar. My legs exploded with violent force, shattering the stone slabs beneath my boots as I turned into a blur, tearing right through the cordon of the crowd.

"A rioter! Stop him!"

The two high-elf warriors guarding the pyre reacted instantly.

They drew their greatswords, the enchanted blades flashing with blinding, cold light, and chopped down at me from the left and right.

In the past, guards of this caliber wouldn't even have the right to approach me.

But now, I was alone, forced to wring dry my nearly exhausted magic reserves just to funnel what little strength remained into my arms.

Clang!

Barehanded, I slammed my fists right into the flat sides of the two greatswords.

A violent shockwave erupted. The two elite high-elf warriors coughed in pain and were sent flying like broken kites, crashing heavily into the stone steps of the altar.

Using the recoil, I leaped into the air and shattered the falling torch with a single kick right before it hit the oil pile!

Amidst a shower of sparks, I grabbed the magical shackles binding Ereven. With a low growl, relying purely on raw physical dominance, I crushed them barehanded.

Crack—

The iron chains shattered to the floor.

Ereven slumped forward powerlessly, and I caught her steadily in my embrace.

"Cough..."

Before I could check her condition, a violent upheaval tore through my chest, and the thick metallic taste of blood surged up my throat. I forcefully swallowed the mouthful of blood, but I couldn't hide my ragged breathing and my slightly trembling hands.

I had aggravated my old wounds.

I clenched my teeth, my heart thoroughly bitter.

Before plunging into the void turbulence, I was the legendary Grand General of the Elven Royal Court, my power having long surpassed the realm of "high-tier."

But fifty years of endless, bloody battles—especially that final strike where I perished mutually with the Demon King—had completely drained my source of mana, leaving behind hidden, severe injuries accumulated in seas of blood.

These injuries had actually caused my combat prowess to drop to the point where I could barely unleash the strength of a high-elf warrior.

"Bold fanatic!"

Upon the high platform, High Priest Kalad leaped in fury. Surrounded by heavy guard, he pointed at me and roared, "How dare you sabotage the Blood Sun Festival and kidnap a sinner! City Guards, chop him into meat paste!"

Accompanied by the heavy screech of armor, hundreds of elite guards swarmed over like a tide. Countless sharp spears formed an impenetrable steel cage around the pyre.

We were surrounded by death on all sides.

"Who... who are you?"

A weak, trembling voice came from my arms.

I looked down and met Ereven’s tear-stained eyes.

Right now, my entire face was hidden in the shadow of my tattered, filthy hood. I reeked of blood and stench. She couldn't recognize me at all.

"Don't be afraid. With me here, no one can hurt you," I said, trying to keep my voice steady as I shielded her firmly behind my back.

But hearing my words, instead of feeling the joy of surviving, Ereven shook her head in agony and pushed against my breastplate.

"It's no use... you can't save me. Please, just go. Don't waste your effort."

The light in her eyes had completely extinguished, and tears poured down her face. "I am a traitor's daughter... I have nothing left... I am completely alone."

"Just let me burn to ashes in this fire. That way... I can go underground and find my mother."

Those words felt like a rusty, blunt knife plunging ruthlessly into my heart, then being cruelly twisted.

No matter how painful my bodily wounds were, they couldn't compare to a thousandth of the agony tearing apart my heart right now.

My daughter, the only bloodline between me and the love of my life, had been pushed to actively seek death in her own homeland!

I took a deep breath, treating the spears and swords aimed at me as if they were thin air.

With trembling fingers, I slowly gripped the tattered hood over my head.

"You are not alone."

I violently tore the hood back, letting the face that had weathered fifty years of wind, frost, and demonic blades be completely exposed to the harsh sunlight.

The roaring chaos of the entire plaza came to a bizarre, screeching halt.

I looked at the stunned girl before me, my eyes red, my voice unbearably hoarse:

"I'm sorry, Ereven... Daddy came back late."

Clatter!

Upon the high platform, the golden scepter in Kalad's hand crashed to the floor.

He stared fixedly at my face, his eyes bulging out of his head as if he were seeing a vengeful ghost clawing its way up from the depths of hell. Extreme terror instantly warped his hypocritical face.

And right in front of me, Ereven’s dull pupils violently contracted.

Her eyes widened to their limits, staring at this face she had seen countless times in her mother's picture books. She even forgot how to breathe.