Lich for Hire

Chapter 220: The Goddess of Fate's Trial

Ambrose kept himself cloaked in his illusion as he watched the spectacle unfold.

He had witnessed Harvey's winning streak and the ensuing chaos.

He'd improved, but not by much.

Ambrose wouldn't have needed to drag in a third party to stir things up. Even if he couldn't beat the orc, he would simply have provoked them into fighting among themselves. All it required was a little understanding of orcish traditions. Matriarchal tribes were despised by orthodox orcs. There were bound to be members of Sawtooth Blade's tribe who resented a woman in power.

All he had to do was spend a little time gathering information, then engineer a few provocations. Tempt a few brainless orcs into poisoning or ambushing someone, and they'd start tearing each other apart.

If he was subtle enough, he could steer clear from the mess entirely.

Once a schism broke out, the tribe would leak like a sieve. Escaping would be trivial then. That female orc couldn't possibly watch him day and night without sleeping.

Unfortunately, Harvey had chosen to bring in outside forces.

The method itself wasn't bad. The problem was that Harvey had no control over those external forces. He didn't understand their habits or temperaments, which was why the situation had spiraled so completely out of control.

Whether conducting experiments or taking risks, never introduce variables you can't control unless absolutely necessary.Harvey was still far too inexperienced, after all.

As the smoke spread, the tavern quickly plunged into complete darkness.

Sawtooth Blade wasn't stupid. She knew she couldn't win, so she immediately used the confusion to reach a window and leap out of the tavern.

The orcs waiting outside quickly regrouped with her and began preparing to leave the city.

As for Harvey, he also slipped out during the commotion. He had never intended to work for anyone; he only wanted a chance to escape.

The moment he stepped outside the tavern, he headed into the darkest alley he could find. Then he turned his clothes inside out and pulled a fake beard and crooked false teeth from his magic pouch. Hunching his back as he walked, he instantly transformed into a shabby old man.

As for Shapeshifting… well, Harvey hadn't learned the spell yet. As a self-taught mage, he had odd gaps in his knowledge. Even though he could perform relatively advanced spells like Detect Lies, there were some commonplace spells that he simply hadn't had a chance to learn.

Unfortunately, his disguise proved completely useless.

Before he had gone very far at all, Sawtooth Blade and a group of orcs caught him.

The female orc wiped her nose proudly and said, "Did you really think you could escape? You're covered in my scent."

Harvey laughed awkwardly. "Haha, it was all a misunderstanding."

Sawtooth Blade drove her boot straight into his chest.

Harvey was sent flying. As he sailed through the air, he didn't even feel any pain, only bitterness.

"Was this fated, too?"

He slammed into the ground. As his consciousness blurred, fragmented images suddenly appeared before his eyes.

He stood inside a dim cave. Around him were companions whose faces he couldn't see clearly. There were loud voices and the stench of blood and rot. Everything felt disturbingly real.

Then a grotesque monster lunged out and swallowed him whole.

His flesh was torn by fangs, his bones crushed and shattered. After an unbearable agony came absolute silence.

Harvey jolted awake from the vision.

The pain in his chest remained—he didn't even know how many ribs he had broken—but he barely cared.

Had that been a prophecy of the future? Was he about to die while adventuring?

After becoming a diviner, Harvey had learned a single truth.

Prophecies were inevitable. They couldn't be changed, no matter how you struggled. His master had once asked him a question: if you knew you would die tomorrow, would you panic, or foolishly try to change your fate?

Harvey was panicking now. He wasn't fearful, but he couldn't calm himself down, either. The premonition of impending death had appeared so suddenly that he was simply… at a loss.

Ambrose stood beside him, silently watching as the orcs dragged Harvey away.

He had achieved his objective of this journey through time. The future Harvey had seen had been fabricated by Ambrose himself. He had successfully exploited a loophole in fate, saving Harvey through a method that should have been nearly impossible.

Ambrose was certain it had worked. Harvey would not be able to accidentally glimpse his death again.

Fate was always fair: after forging that prophecy, Ambrose's own power over divination had vanished.

The loss was temporary, but it proved that the Goddess of Fate had accepted his bargain. Harvey could live, but Ambrose would have to pay the price.

And it wasn't over yet. That goddess was never generous.

Ambrose turned to Catherine beside him and said, "Prepare yourself. Something big's on its way."

Catherine was about to ask what he meant when a shrill horn suddenly echoed through Sweetdew City.

"Is someone attacking Sweetdew City?"

Catherine remembered that sound. When she had tried to fly into the city as part of her wager with Ambrose, the guards on the walls had sounded the alarm in much the same way.

But this time, the horns sounded even more urgent, and from every direction.

Was Sweetdew City under attack? But by whom?

At the moment, the only force currently at war with the Dwarven Kingdom was the Lyon Empire.

Ambrose lifted his head and looked toward the distant sky.

High above the blue heavens, several streaks of light were clashing. The most brilliant among them was a silver, moonlit radiance.

A colossal arc of silver moonlight, large enough to resemble a city wall, descended from the sky. It grazed the southern wall of Sweetdew City, slicing five meters off the nearly twenty-meter-high fortification.

"The Silvermoon Knight, Winston Light!"

Ambrose forced the name out through clenched teeth.

He had known the Goddess of Fate's trial would be difficult. He had even prepared himself for the possibility of dying here. But he had never imagined his opponent would be the Silvermoon Knight.

That old monster was absurdly powerful. One strike like that could probably split Ambrose's Golden Throne in half. Even worse, the knight's holy light could cling to the soul of an undead. Even with a phylactery, Ambrose would still be cleansed.

Catherine said in shock, "The Silvermoon Knight? But didn't he die… Ah, right. We've gone back in time."

There were still several months before the old man would die. Countless battles lay between past and present. Ambrose couldn't possibly drag things out long enough to exhaust him.

"Can't we just run?" Catherine asked.

She truly didn't want to fight the Silvermoon Knight. Her identity was far too sensitive. The knight was practically the embodiment of the Lyon Empire. If the two of them fought inside Sweetdew City, relations between the Lyon Empire and the Court of the Silver Moon would deteriorate instantly.

Ambrose gave a bitter smile. "You can run. But I can't. Remember the wine cup I asked you to carry out of the city? This is Fate's trial. If I run, the result will be total destruction."

"But…" Catherine bit her lip. She didn't want Ambrose to die here, but she also couldn't drag the entire elven race into the conflict.

And if Ambrose were to fight alone… Well, Catherine wasn't trying to look down on him, but in an unrestricted duel, she wasn't even sure Ambrose could defeat her.

And she knew she was no match for the Silvermoon Knight in the sky. That moonlight slash just now was something she absolutely couldn't block.

The empire's strongest paladin truly lived up to his reputation. He had surpassed even the level of legend. Catherine couldn't even imagine how his aging body could unleash such a terrifying strike.

She looked at the silent Ambrose and recalled everything that had happened since they met.

The lich was so greedy it bordered on shamelessness. But aside from that flaw, Catherine couldn't find many faults with him. In fact, Ambrose had greatly changed her impression of the undead. What lich would refuse to kill even a single paladin?

Even if he claimed it was for profit, other undead would surely have killed a few just to vent their anger.

More than that, Ambrose's schemes had enlightened her. She had learned more from her short time with him than over centuries in the Court of the Silver Moon.

But the lich who always seemed confident enough to solve any problem had now been silent for a long time.

Catherine suddenly felt a pang in her chest. She couldn't help but say, "Can your illusions guarantee that I won't be exposed? I can help you if that's the case."

Saying that already risked the elves being implicated. But she couldn't just watch Ambrose die.

Ambrose turned and gave her a strange look. "That's a big sacrifice. Catherine, are you sure?"

"I can't just watch you die," she replied. "At worst, I'll negotiate with Lyon as the elven queen. You just use that strange brain of yours and think of a way to talk them into it. Persuasion is what you're best at, isn't it?"

To Catherine, that seemed the most reliable plan. Ambrose had never been the type to win through brute strength. His usual strategy was talking enemies into signing disadvantageous agreements.

Ambrose said seriously, "I'll remember this favor, but there's no need to panic."

Catherine frowned. "Who's panicking? A moment ago you were so scared you couldn't even speak."

"I was thinking!" Ambrose protested. "Thinking! Do you understand?"

During their previous clash in Sandshadow City, that silver beam the Silvermoon Knight had used had been much more restrained: it had only split the massive darkness spell Ambrose had cast over the city. But the strike he had just witnessed was the Silvermoon Knight at full power. The sheer power had nearly sent his soul fleeing out of his body.

Of course, he couldn't admit that. Otherwise, how could he ever lecture Catherine again?

Catherine didn't even bother exposing him. "So after thinking all this time," she asked, "what did you come up with?"

Ambrose nodded confidently. "Look at the sky. If that old man swings his sword one more time, the battle will be over. But have you seen a second strike yet?"