Chapter 39
By dawn, Lilith was back in her own Territory via Verdant Spire.
The war in the Verdant Forest could get along without her now — kill notifications kept scrolling across her System interface, EXP ticking steadily upward as the undead she'd unleashed tore through the Howling Tusk Tribe. With any luck, she’d break into Elite Rank before Rowan did.
"Whatever. I'll deal with what's in front of me first." She stretched.
She didn't head back to the castle after stepping through the Portal.
Instead she summoned several undead on the spot and started handing out assignments.
Varkhul would leave Frostbound Bastion and take command of the forces at Verdant Spire; Morwen would pick her Goblin investigation back up; Eldran would keep gathering intelligence across the Frostlands.
With Lilith home, Simon was no great threat to the Territory — no sense keeping all three Overlords parked at the Bastion.
The idle undead she set to hauling timber and ore out of the Verdant Forest, stockpiling toward the next Territory upgrade.
Before parting with Rowan, she'd asked him where Essence Cores came from. His answer was exactly what she'd expected: they dropped from Elite-ranked creatures.
"I upgraded the Barracks too fast." The second advancement cycle was plainly built for Lords who'd already reached Elite Rank. She hadn't.
Bonnie emerged from the castle a while later, yawning as she walked. She'd been ordered to stay in the Territory during the operation, so she'd simply slept there — the castle had more empty rooms than the two of them could ever use. The moment she spotted Lilith, the drowsiness evaporated.
"Lili, you're back!"
"Everything's handled for now. The Orcs won't mount another major attack anytime soon."
"I knew it! Our Kill Points kept shooting up all night, so I figured you'd already made your move."
Which reminded Lilith of the leaderboard. "We're still doing well, then?" She opened the event rankings.
[Survival of the Fittest Event Leaderboard]
[1st: God of Light Lord Party — 1,666 Kill Points]
[2nd: Arbiters of Order, Lv.3 Alliance — 1,111 Kill Points]
[3rd: HaloGrace Lord Party — 888 Kill Points]
[4th: Highwind Dominion, Lv.2 Alliance — 501 Kill Points]
[5th: Sovereigns of Stone, Lv.2 Alliance — 488 Kill Points]
...
The gaps between the leading spots were enormous. Kill Points took more than strength to earn; they took opportunity. Rowan was the perfect example — however powerful he grew, there were no native races near him left to kill. Though luck, of course, was its own kind of advantage.
Her Party's lead still looked commanding, and with that confirmed, Lilith's interest in the board faded. Auriel had slipped to third — which explained the decision to stay in the Verdant Forest hunting Orcs.
What actually caught her eye was the Arbiters of Order. A Lv.3 Alliance, already. As far as Lilith knew, that level could hold at least fifteen members, and the combined Kill Points of fifteen Lords could bury nearly any individual competitor. Small wonder they'd passed Auriel.
She felt no admiration whatsoever. Advancing an Alliance meant destroying other Alliances — hitting Lv.3 this quickly told you exactly how many Lords they'd slaughtered to get there. And every Alliance in the top ten now sat at Lv.2 or higher.
She hadn't checked the channel population in days. When she did: tens of thousands more Lords dead. The weak were becoming fuel for the strong, and at this rate, the count of survivors would only keep falling.
"What are we doing next, Lili?" Bonnie asked, breaking into her thoughts. "Are we helping Giles first?"
Lilith shook her head. "Auriel still has things to wrap up. She probably can't leave yet." Besides, barely a day had passed. She doubted Simon had healed that fast — he likely wouldn't dare face her yet. And if the one holding the body really was Giles, he'd have no reason to avoid her at all.
She was midway through explaining this when a private message flashed across her System interface. She and Bonnie looked at each other, both guessing the sender in the same instant.
"Don't tell me..." Bonnie began, trailing off.
Lilith opened it.
[Runeforge: Do you have time to meet soon? Most of my injuries have healed, but I'm starting to lose my hold on Simon again. I'd like to see you as soon as possible.]
...
The Frostlands. Giles's Territory.
The wounds the three Overlords had dealt were never as serious as Simon claimed. Werewolves were dark creatures, and their bloodline carried a ferocious regeneration — one that worked even against wounds carved by other forms of dark power.
What actually had Simon in a fury was that nothing had gone to plan. Recover, break into Elite Rank, then meet Lilith and kill her in a single stroke — that had been the design. Instead, the previous night, he'd slaughtered another Frost Sabertooth outpost and gotten the same result as always.
No EXP. No advancement prompt. Nothing.
Simon finally accepted it: normal advancement was closed to him.
The one path left was consuming the blood of native werewolves whose bloodlines outstripped his own — nothing else would raise his Rank.
The System's progression privileges belonged to Giles, not to him.
In truth, their abnormal condition had locked Giles out of plenty of Lord privileges too, but Simon didn't know that.
All he understood was that getting stronger meant hunting powerful native werewolves.
Which would be suicide.
Then he checked the leaderboard and watched Lilith's Kill Points soaring, and paired with that terrifying Talent of hers, the surge settled it: he could not afford to wait.
Delay much longer and she'd leave him behind entirely — an unbearable thought.
He had finally obtained power. He would not watch his one chance at revenge slip past.
So Simon would meet Lilith before his injuries had fully healed. He needed to kill her now. After turning the plan over all night, he sent the message.
The reply came quickly.
[God of Light: All right. Meet me at Frostbound Bastion.]
Simon rose to his feet, and a smile spread across Giles's face.
"Lilith, you're finally going to die."