Black Hearted Mage

Chapter 367 Valkyrie 2

“Who are you?”

This trembling question sounded so faint in the hall, almost drowned out by the groans that filled the hall. A female warrior in dark red leather armor sat on a golden chair representing supreme power, her leather boots treading on the old emperor's luxurious robes.

Just moments ago, this uninvited guest had swept through the palace like a whirlwind—thirty elite guards were defeated by her, and the mask of the head of the Imperial Secret Service was shattered by her slap, revealing a face never before seen. And now, she grasped the elderly emperor by the collar with one hand and tossed him beside the jeweled chair like a worn-out doll.

The hall was utterly silent, broken only by the sound of heavy breathing. The female warrior glanced around, her gaze like a blade sweeping across each terrified face. Her leather armor was unblemished, not a single scratch visible. Sunlight filtered through the stained glass windows, casting a blood-red halo on her.

"I'm Vivian Barton." Her voice was quiet, but it resonated like thunder in everyone's ears. "I've sat in this golden chair for over twenty years." She slowly stood up, her fingers stroking the armrests of the golden chair as if caressing an old friend. "Now I have an announcement—"

She suddenly turned around, her blood-red cape drawing a sharp arc. "Destroy the Saint Laurent Empire within two years." A cruel smile curled her lips. "If you can't do it, then you are a bunch of useless people who have no need to live in this world anymore. I will kill you with my own hands!"

The hall erupted in gasps of disbelief. The account book in the hands of the Minister of Finance fell to the ground with a clatter. The Minister of War turned pale as a sheet, and several young attendants even collapsed to the ground.

"Impossible..." Chief Court Mage Gard pushed his glasses up with trembling voice, "Duchess Vivian Barton has been... dead for over seven thousand years..."

"Seven thousand three hundred and twenty-eight years and four months," Vivian corrected accurately, a hint of sarcasm flashing in her eyes. "It seems the imperial historians at least still retain the ability to record the true date."

The elderly chancellor suddenly knelt on the ground, his forehead pressed against the cold marble floor. "Blood-colored Rose...it's really you...Ancient books record that you will return when the empire is in the most dire straits..."

Vivian sneered. "Danger? No, old man. I came back because you've disappointed me so much." She kicked aside the royal advisor who was blocking her way. "Over seven thousand years have passed, and you've created the Saint Laurent Empire—a country created by Vatican bastards and a bunch of traitors, and you haven't even destroyed it!"

In the silent hall, the oldest nobles exchanged horrified glances. Their family's ancient texts detailed the Valkyrie's reign of terror—nearly nine thousand years ago, during the Roland Empire's darkest period, when this Duchess held sway over the continent with an iron fist. During her two thousand years of protecting the empire, she personally executed three hundred and sixty-seven great nobles and publicly beheaded two incompetent emperors. Historians dubbed that era the "Tyranny of the Bloody Rose."

"How...how do you want to prove your identity?" the Minister of War mustered up the courage to ask, his hand already on his sword.

Vivian didn't even glance at him, simply raising her right hand. Instantly, a stream of white energy erupted from her palm, wrapping around her arm like a mist. The temperature in the hall plummeted, the air freezing rapidly from the low temperature.

"Ice fighting spirit..." the old chancellor muttered, his eyes filled with awe. "The legendary symbol of the Valkyrie...a power that only the Valkyrie can wield..."

Vivian clenched her fists, and white energy exploded, freezing all the incense in the hall. Several magicians were horrified to find that their magic power was nothing compared to this force.

"Now, does anyone still have doubts?" Vivian's voice was as cold as ice.

No one answered. The hall was so quiet that one could hear the sound of sweat dripping.

Vivian nodded in satisfaction and strode towards the throne. She sat down without hesitation, her leather armor clattering against the golden seat. The old emperor struggled to stand, but a look from her pinned him to the spot.

"From today on, I will take over this corrupt empire again," she announced, her voice filled with unquestionable authority. "First order: immediately prepare war supplies, and the legion is ready to launch the war. Second order: execute all traitors who have had secret dealings with Saint Laurent—" Her gaze fell on the noble who had just climbed up, "starting with you."

Before the noble could even beg for mercy, a flash of red light appeared, and his head tumbled to the ground. Blood splattered on the faces of several nearby ministers, but no one dared to wipe it away. A communication stone at the noble's waist flew into Vivian's hands and was crushed by her.

"Third order," Vivian took two steps forward and looked down at the trembling ministers. "Before tonight, I want to see the complete military deployment map of the Saint Laurent Empire. Those who can't do it—" She gave a creepy smile, "can say goodbye to your families in advance."

Outside the hall, the setting sun dyed the clouds blood-red, as if foreshadowing the coming bloody storm. Seven thousand years of slumber had failed to dull the Valkyrie's edge; instead, her rage intensified. The fate of the Roland Empire would be completely rewritten on this day.

In the darkness of the prison at night, the spy chief, rubbing his numb face, issued a single order, and all the Eagle Eyes of the Empire were dispatched. Anyone with even the slightest connection to the Saint Laurent Empire, whether ordinary civilians or great nobles of the Empire, was placed on a secret execution list.

The Minister of War and the Minister of State did not dare to sleep. They wiped the sweat off their faces while calculating the cost of the legion war.

The cold dew of dawn had not yet dissipated, but the golden dome of the imperial palace already shone coldly in the morning light. The heavy bronze doors were slowly pushed open by the guards, and ministers in aristocratic robes filed in at a hurried pace, their boots making a chaotic clatter on the marble floor.

The old emperor sat on a sofa, his gaunt body like a specimen drained of all its moisture. His cloudy eyes were half-lidded, and the purple-black bruise on his left cheek was particularly glaring in the morning light. The jeweled crown sat askew among his white hair, as if it might slip off at any moment.

The spy chief, clad in jet-black leather armor, stood like a ghost to the old emperor's right, his metal mask reflecting a cold luster. When the last minister crossed the threshold, several guards from the main hall joined forces to push the heavy door shut. The door slammed shut, startling several elderly nobles so much that they nearly fell.

"Put the message stone in your storage ring, and don't take the image stone out." The voice from beneath the mask was like a blunt knife scraping across bone. "I don't like repeating orders."

Vivian leaned against the throne's armrests, her slender fingers tapping intermittently on the dragon head carvings. She wore a dark red hunting coat, two short swords dangling from her waist. As the ministers scrambled to carry out the order, she noticed a flash of blue light from the finance minister's ring.

"Your Excellency," the Finance Minister stood up shakily, the hem of his robe still stained with the spilled ink. "According to yesterday's military report, if the war continues for half a year, the treasury's gold reserves will be..."

"The nobles of Saint Laurent have managed their territory for thousands of years." Vivian suddenly chuckled. "Their combined vaults should be more spacious than the palace's banquet hall." She looked at the old treasurer's face, which turned pale. She added, "Remember to prepare more crucibles for melting gold."

The Noble Speaker's ivory cane clanked to the ground. The white-haired old man's eyes widened. "You mean... all the noble bloodlines of Saint Laurent..."

Vivian stood up and said, "My meaning is very clear: not a single noble of the Saint Laurent Empire will be spared. Those who remain will be a disaster for the Roland Empire. All their property will be confiscated. I'm afraid that after this battle, your treasury will have to expand..."

As Vivian approached the palace gate, the black-armored guards silently formed two rows. She turned back in the morning light, a dangerous blue flame dancing in her pupils. "I'll await your news at Rose Castle." A sudden burst of fighting spirit erupted from her fingertips, and the bronze bolt was instantly encased in frost. With a flick of her finger, the bolt shattered, clattering to the tiled floor. "If I discover anyone lingering in Fire Maple City, they'll meet the same fate as this bolt!"

The echo lingered in the hall's pillars for a long time. Several nobles had slumped in their chairs, and almost everyone gasped. The "Blood Rose"'s methods were harsh and ruthless, and the bruises on the old emperor's face were the best evidence of this.

As the tall figure of the Imperial Valkyrie disappeared outside the palace gate, the heavy door slowly closed behind her. Only then did the nobles dare to move, gathering in groups of three or four in the center of the hall, their fingers trembling slightly beneath their silk sleeves.

"Your Majesty, your injury..." An old earl with a silver-gray goatee bravely approached the old emperor, but suddenly fell silent when he saw the purple bruises on the other's face.

"I bumped into the weapons rack during morning exercises!" The old emperor suddenly slammed his desk and stood up, his jeweled crown bumping against the wound on his forehead, drawing tiny drops of blood. His Highness gasped, and several young viscounts nearly cried out in shock.

The emperor wiped his face with his gold-embroidered cuff, and the blood-stained dragon pattern shone with an eerie luster under the light: "If that person hears you gossiping here..." Before he finished speaking, the clang of a sword being unsheathed was suddenly heard outside the hall. The finance minister who was closest to the door was so frightened that he collapsed on the mosaic floor tiles.

"What are you still standing there for?" The old emperor kicked over the incense burner at his feet. The flying ash burned black holes in the scarlet carpet. "Hurry and prepare the war resources! Remember—they must be ready within three months!"

After hearing the news from Fire Maple City, Caesars was also shocked by this Valkyrie with thunderous means. She used slaps to clear her way, not only killing a noble in the palace, but also slapping the old emperor.

According to the secret records reviewed by the imperial historians, this Valkyrie killed two emperors and 315 members of the imperial family. She also killed 368 high-ranking nobles and countless lesser nobles.

"Caesars, why are you still in the castle?"

Vivian, wearing a scarlet velvet dress, suddenly appeared at the living room door like a burning flame. The gold embroidery on the hem of her skirt flashed dangerously with her steps. Her slender fingers were tapping impatiently on the door frame, and her eyes swept like a knife towards Caesars, who was lazily sinking on the sofa.

"Let's go after dinner. It's the same in the cave anyhow!" Caesars didn't even raise his eyelids, his fingers tickling the fat dog lying at his feet. The thousand-pound monster was snoring comfortably, its belly fat spread out on the carpet.

Vivian's red lips were pressed into a tight line. "Don't procrastinate!" She quickly walked to the fireplace, and the flames suddenly jumped a foot higher. "The mutants won't wait for you to finish your meal. Every minute of delay increases the risk!"

"Go after dinner!"

Caesars finally raised his dark eyes, his tone filled with unwavering stubbornness. The firelight from the fireplace danced on his angular profile, casting shadows of varying depths.

When Cecilia learned that the uninvited guest was actually the Imperial Valkyrie, the kitchen erupted in unprecedented bustle. The aroma of roast suckling pig mingled with rosemary filled the corridors, and waiters shuttled back and forth carrying gilded porcelain platters. The long table was soon laden with honey-glazed ham, truffled foie gras, and moonshine wine from the crater—a feast of extraordinary proportions. After all, on the Roland Continent, no one dared to neglect the legendary goddess of war. Caesars noticed that the butler, Sean, was hunched over, his forehead almost touching his knees.

"Thank goodness the Roland Empire blocked the news." Caesars cut into the lamb chops on his plate, catching a glimpse of the gloomy sky outside the restaurant window. If those fanatical mercenaries on the continent knew Vivian was here, the Rose Castle would probably be swarming with adventurers eager to catch a glimpse of the Valkyrie.

After dinner, Caesars slowly wiped the corners of his mouth with a linen napkin embroidered with the family crest. He kicked the listless fat dog at his feet—the dog had only been fed half full by Vivian.

"Go away, lazy bastard."

"Woo..." The fat dog drooped its ears, its once glossy fur now dull. It stole a glance at Vivian, who was polishing her weapon. The "Fatal Scarlet," which had drunk the blood of a demon dragon, exuded a terrifying aura even in its sheath.

"Don't complain if you can't win!"

Caesars grabbed the fat dog by the soft flesh on the back of its neck and dragged it towards the door. His heavy body left several scratches on the polished floor. "Better to be half full than to be beaten, don't you think?"

The fat dog whimpered in frustration, but as it passed Vivian, it immediately held its breath, even tucking its tail between its legs. Caesars sighed and began chanting the spells of levitation and feather fall. As magical light swirled around the fat dog, the mountain of fat finally swayed and floated upwards. If he had dragged this glutton across the Emerald River by himself, he'd probably have crashed into the river halfway through the flight, becoming the most feared person of the year.