Mount and Blade System: Start from Pioneer Lords.

Chapter 455 Confrontation
“Honorable human Ayatura, I have said everything I need to say. I hope you can release me. I can pay the ransom. Doesn’t Debe admire chivalry?” Mujitaishid the Lich King said, “You were once a knight who swore an oath. To become a paladin, your character must have been quite noble.”

It's no wonder Ubigail thought that way, after all, the virtues of the paladin were widely known not only in the material world, but also in other underworlds.

Not to mention that the knights of Debe also uphold the Eight Virtues.

"Who will pay the ransom? You? But if I capture you, isn't everything you have mine? Why should I release you?" Li Wei gave it a strange look: "As for your fellow Salvationists, if I deal with them all, who will pay the ransom for you?"

Mil was struggling to suppress his laughter. His brother-in-law lacked the eight virtues, but he certainly possessed all seven deadly sins.

“Your Excellency Ayatura, I admit you are indeed very strong, but the leaders of our Salvation Society are absolutely beyond your reach. They have lived for thousands of years, possess magic unimaginable to you, and were once powerful rulers in their own time. So-called geniuses are merely at the threshold of their power.” Ubigail smiled faintly: “That is why I have told you so much. Although I am also a bishop of the Salvation Society, I am not responsible for much. Even if you kill me, it will not affect anything. Considering my honesty, sparing my life is nothing to you.”

"If geniuses only see the threshold, then what about cheaters?" Li Wei smiled and said something that no one present could understand.

Mir was already used to it; his brother-in-law always used the local slang, which caused the people of Gaoyabao to pick up some of his very useful catchphrases.

Ubigail smiled and did not refute.

“Mir, Peya, this Bishop Mujitaishid is now in your hands.” Li Wei smiled slightly and looked at the Lich King on the ground: “My lord, thank you for your honesty, I will spare your life.”

So, to Ubigail's horrified gaze, Peya walked up with a sinister grin. Since Li Wei said he was only sparing her life, it should be acceptable if she was missing something.

Just as the Lich King was about to get up and fight back, a huge foot kicked him. The unimaginably dense holy light made him feel as if he had fallen into lava, his whole body emitting thick smoke from being burned, and he howled in pain on the ground.

Holy light is as potent as poison to undead creatures.

Then Mir used the clamps, and Paya was even more wicked, using up all the treasured holy water.

After weakening their opponents, the lords set off again. They were now very close to Gonda, and at their speed, they would arrive soon.

……

In the past, even at night, Gonda was brightly lit and the streets were full of pedestrians and guards, but now it was as quiet as a stagnant pool.

The only sounds left in the city were the clanging of bones and faint screams.

This once-prosperous capital has now become a kingdom of the dead, with countless spirits slowly advancing towards the depths of the royal palace and the Holy Light Church.

Deep within the Gondor Palace, the once magnificent audience hall has now become a final refuge.

A thin yet resilient barrier of holy light, radiating a soft glow, enveloped the central area of ​​the hall like an inverted glass bowl.

Outside, countless howling undead were charging towards the holy light barrier, ready to turn to ashes the moment they touched it.

The light of the barrier flickered like a candle in the wind under the corrosive influence of the dense aura of death all around. Each black ripple generated by the impact of the undead seemed to dim the light a little more.

Inside the barrier, the atmosphere was so oppressive it was almost suffocating.

The once arrogant nobles were now huddled together, their gorgeous robes covered in dust and sweat, their faces pale and bloodless, their eyes filled with numb fear and despair.

The woman's nervous prayers, the man's heavy breathing and desperate curses mingled together, creating a tragic elegy for the end of the world.

The members of the Holy Light Church were on the outermost circle, and the holy light emblems on their bodies appeared dim and lackluster.

Several young priests and nuns, their faces pale, chanted incantations with trembling lips, trying to maintain the crumbling barrier.

The leading cardinal had a scorched beard and his forehead was covered in sweat. Holy light was continuously flowing from his body into the barrier, but he was clearly at his limit, and each infusion made his body sway slightly.

At the very core of the barrier stood a great beauty.

She wore the papal robes that symbolized her papacy, the hem of which was stained and torn, but her back was ramrod straight, like a pine tree standing proudly against the wind and frost. Her face bore a deep weariness, but her eyes were unusually bright, burning with an almost unwavering determination.

She held a scepter in her hand, inlaid with a huge sapphire. Faint magical fluctuations flowed from the top of the scepter, seemingly providing some kind of support for the barrier.

"Hold on! The Goddess of Light is watching us!" the cardinal roared hoarsely, his voice barely audible amidst the howls and crashing sounds of the undead. "Reinforcements will surely come! Her Highness the Holy Maiden has already rushed out to plead for our aid!"

"Reinforcements?" a fat count cried out in despair, tearing open his expensive silk collar. "What reinforcements are there? The whole of Gonda has become a paradise for the dead! Even His Majesty the King... even..." He dared not finish his sentence, glancing fearfully at the tall figure outside the barrier, sitting on the throne, leaning on a greatsword, silent.

"Shut up, Groom!" An elderly marquis from a military family, with graying hair, shouted sternly, but his hand gripping the hilt of his sword was trembling slightly. The gems on the scabbard reflected the light of the barrier, appearing particularly dazzling. "If you try to sway people's hearts again, I'll cut off your head first!"

"Cut? What will you use to cut?" another voice cried out, "The barrier is about to break! We'll all die! No, it'll be worse than death! We'll turn into these... these things outside!"

Panic spread like a plague among the nobility. Some began to hysterically scratch their hair, while others curled up on the ground and sobbed softly.

They had been holding out here for a long time, but with no hope in sight, even some of the most rational old nobles felt despair.

They never imagined that the whole of Gonda would become like this.

Unfortunately, most of the officers and soldiers went on an expedition to the Persian Gulf Empire and there was no chance of them returning in the short term.

Not to mention, news from here simply can't get out.

"Gentlemen, although His Majesty is dead, Debe is still alive. If you continue to undermine people's morale, then to prevent the situation from getting worse, the dead are far more reassuring than the living!" The old prime minister's eyes turned cold, and the knights beside him immediately drew their longswords, their blades flashing.

For this prime minister who has served two reigns, now that the crisis has already occurred, the most urgent task is to resolve the undead crisis and quickly elect a new king, otherwise the entire Debe will be engulfed in war.

The nobles glanced fearfully at the prime minister, who resembled an old lion, and wisely remained silent. "Your Majesty Kalis, can Her Highness the Holy Maiden truly leave Gonda to find reinforcements?" the old prime minister then asked softly beside Kalis.

On the very night they experienced this tragedy, Fatir led another group of people out of the palace.

With such a large number of people here, it was clearly unlikely that they could break out, so they could only rely on the terrain to hold their ground.

What worries the old prime minister even more is how His Highness the Prince and the Queen are doing now. As long as they are safe, even if His Majesty Harland is now a living dead, once these undead are dealt with, Debe will not fall into turmoil due to the lack of a new king.

Carlisle's slender fingers tightened slightly as she gripped the scepter, and a barely perceptible worry flickered in the depths of her bright eyes, which burned with unwavering determination.

She gazed at the endless tide of undead beyond the barrier, and at the Death Knight perched high on the throne, radiating a chilling, deathly aura—the former King Harland. Her clear, melodious voice reached the old prime minister's ears:

“Fatir is blessed by the goddess, she will surely be able to break through the blockade. But…” She paused, her gaze sweeping over the ashen-faced nobles and the crumbling holy light barrier, “What we lack most is time, the barrier probably won’t last much longer.”

Actually, she wasn't telling the truth, because the real battlefield wasn't here; whether they could win depended on the other side.

It's frustrating, but that's the reality.

All she could do was try her best to protect the people in front of her and keep them calm.

The old prime minister's heart sank. Having been in the officialdom for so long, how could he not see something? The situation was clearly worse than he had imagined.

His aged but sharp gaze swept over the trembling nobles, then looked at the priests and nuns maintaining the barrier on the outer circle, and finally settled on the cardinal's sweat-drenched face.

The old minister took a deep breath, his voice carrying an undeniable chilling authority:

"Stop your useless tears and wails! All men who can still wield a sword, whether nobles or servants, immediately take up your weapons and stand at the edge of the inner circle. Once the barrier breaks, use your flesh and blood to buy His Holiness the Pope and the clergy time for the final spell, and shed your last drop of blood for Debe. It's better than becoming those walking corpses outside!"

"Women, retreat to the very center, pick up anything you can use as a weapon. Remember, if you are killed by the undead, your soul may still return to the goddess's embrace. But if you surrender and are transformed, you will be condemned to eternal curse and damnation!" His voice, like a cold warhammer, pounded on everyone's heart. "If you want to live, show the courage of your ancestors! Otherwise, before the undead even make a move, my sword will send you to meet the goddess!"

Under the iron-fisted orders of the old prime minister and the intimidating presence of the gleaming swords of the knights around him, the desperate nobles were finally forced to summon their last shred of fighting spirit.

The men, young and old, trembled and cursed, but eventually drew their swords and even took down their heavy brass candlesticks, crowding together at the inner edge of the barrier to form a fragile human wall.

Fear was still written on his face, but a spark of desperation finally ignited in his numb eyes.

……

The majestic Church of Holy Light, a magnificent building symbolizing faith, has now been reduced to a bloody arena.

Beneath the dome that once echoed with hymns and prayers, the air is now as heavy as congealed blood.

The dense, almost overwhelming aura of death clashed violently with the remaining holy light, producing a sizzling, corrosive sound.

The ground was covered with charred marks, and ruins were everywhere, telling the story of the fierce battle that had taken place.

At the forefront of the battlefield was Ego, one of the twelve saints.

This pillar of the Holy Light Church, a remnant of the Church, now appears rather disheveled.

His signature simple holy robe was torn in several places.

Behind him stood Fatil, her golden bishop's robes torn in several places, her once smooth golden hair now somewhat disheveled, but she gripped the Holy Light Scepter tightly in her hand, the pure crystal at the top of the scepter radiating a soft yet firm light, like a lighthouse in the darkness.

Her face was pale, her forehead was covered with fine beads of sweat, and her breathing was slightly rapid, but her azure eyes burned with an unprecedentedly intense light.

Saint Igor placed one hand on Fatil's shoulder, continuously channeling pure and vast holy light into her body, supporting her as she resisted the suffocating pressure from the opposite side.

Behind him, the sky was filled with ancient-looking giant swords formed purely of holy light, their tips pointing forward and radiating a chilling killing intent.

His eyes were deep and solemn, like the calm sea before a storm, containing a power capable of destroying the world, yet also carrying a hint of imperceptible weariness.

He is currently in a soul state, and it is already extremely difficult for him to use holy light and divine magic. If his strength is 70% of what it was at its peak, that would be considered a lot.

Behind them were the last dozen or so paladins and priests who could still stand.

They were all wounded, their armor tattered, and their holy light dimmed, yet they stood like boulders around Fatil and Ego, their eyes filled with the determination to fight to the death.

On their opposite side, there were only five people.

But the terrifying mental pressure emanating from these five people was like that of five legendary dragons, making it hard to breathe.

The leader, draped in a black robe, stood atop an enormous undead dragon. His face was obscured by shadows beneath the hood, but judging from his physique, he was clearly a tall and imposing man. He held a skull staff and looked down at the few who were stubbornly resisting below.

This is Azrael the Pale Hand, one of the three Ayatura of the Salvation.

Its very existence caused the surrounding space to distort slightly, the light to dim, and the temperature to drop sharply, not to mention the undead dragon beneath its feet that was still eyeing it menacingly, and four bishops of different forms standing beside it.

They are three Lich Kings and one Death Knight.

(End of this chapter)