The Villainess's Secret Bedroom Service
Chapter 118: The Army Of Beasts

Chapter 118: The Army Of Beasts

The dark night fell upon the vast and empty expanse of the Northern lands, covering it with the thick black veil of ominous obscurity. The bright round plate of the full moon shone in its cold silver glow – the only source of light on the otherwise empty black canvas of the endless sky.

The biting, wintry gusts swept relentlessly over towering snowdrifts, plucking glistening snowflakes from their icy perches and strewing them like a fine dusting of powdered sugar. Despite strained attempts to perceive any semblance of detail, the void persisted, offering naught but an endless expanse of ebony stretching over the desolate, purple-hued terrain below. The hushed wilderness offered no auditory solace save for the ominous howling of the wind and the ethereal, distant rumblings it carried in its wake.

The Army of Shadows began to assemble in orderly ranks, forming a defensive perimeter around their encampment. As the scouting party returned from their reconnaissance mission, they relayed their findings. It seemed that although the elusive tribe continued to conceal their movements, the mages among them had incited disruptions near the lairs of the magical creatures, drawing them closer to their bases.

With this unsettling news, the Shadow Knights found themselves with no alternative but to prepare for battle.

Despite the crisp, frigid air that bit into his lungs with every breath he took, Damien’s body seemed ablaze beneath his weighty armor. He removed his helmet, allowing a small respite as the chill air brushed against his overheated skin. Yet, this meager comfort did little to quell his mounting unease.

The observant High Priest, having noted the duke’s flushed countenance, discreetly advanced from behind and inquired with a hushed and apprehensive tone,

"Your Grace, might you be experiencing any ailment? Do you perceive the increasing signs of an impending fever?"

Startled, the man initially flinched but swiftly dismissed the Priest’s concern, his response carrying a frosty demeanor,

"No, I am fine. There is still time."

With a dismissive wave, Damien signaled for the Priest to withdraw, releasing a protracted, weighty sigh. His gloved hand brushed through his disheveled, slightly damp hair, and he savored the refreshing coolness that wafted over his perspiring skin as the cold wind lay its touch on it.

Revered Alexander’s prophecy held true—the onset of a new seizure loomed ominously. Soon, he would once again fall prey to the relentless torment of Acme Fever.

Recalling the respite Rosalie’s assistance had afforded him, he could not help but regrettably reflect,

’Thanks to Rosalie’s aid, my seizures had been few and far apart... I had sincerely hoped that I would not require her Acme remedy for an extended period after our last night together. Yet, it appears there is no avoiding it. These unmistakable symptoms portend the impending seizure.’

His gaze briefly shifted to his hands, which quivered slightly. Drawing in another deep breath, he filled his lungs with the frigid, tingling air, suppressing the invisible, constricting lump that had formed in his dry throat.

’I cannot yet harness the Priest’s power; it would confine me to my bed, and I must fight along my people. I have no alternative but to endure it as long as I can. It’s the only choice I have."

Noticing a shift in the duke’s demeanor, the Crown Prince gestured for the Priest closer. As their bodies drew near, he leaned in, his voice low and tinged with curiosity,

"What is happening? Is His Grace unwell?"

Alexander shook his head, his tone laced with concern and a touch of trepidation,

"His Grace may deny it, but it appears he is displaying symptoms of an impending seizure."

Loyd turned his piercing blue eyes toward Damien, who exhaled visible puffs of vapor with each labored breath. He then glanced down at his sword, its gleaming blade mirroring the moon’s silvery luminescence, and an intrigued grin played upon his lips.

’So it is finally happening, huh? Perhaps today, fortune will grant me a firsthand view.’

In an instant, an ear-splitting roar reverberated across the tranquil expanse of snow. A familiar, brilliant flash of crimson rent the landscape in twain, saturating both earth and sky in its sanguine radiance.

"It’s the summoning! Prepare for action, everyone! Engage the creatures relentlessly, but remain within the perimeter unless it’s an absolute necessity!"

Damien issued a resounding directive to his troops, exchanging a nod with the Crown Prince, who had taken his place alongside him at the forefront of their forces. As their ranks solidified into a formidable defensive formation along the base’s boundaries, every gaze fixated on the now-dimmed crimson horizon, bracing for the imminent arrival of the menacing beasts.

Then, in an instant, it occurred—a mirror image of the Army of Shadows, the mystical legion of magical beasts materialized seemingly from the very ether, their dusky forms emerging from the foreboding obscurity of the night.

Savage, black-furred wolves and formidable bears lumbered across the pristine snowscape, their menacing presence was undeniable.

Slithering with an eerie grace, dark-blue serpents wound their way forward, resembling sinister currents of dark venom.

Tall, standing beings ascended to the forefront, their seemingly lifeless limbs dangled like ropes from their frames, their faceless heads swaying as if bereft of any skeletal support.

From the flanks, crimson foxes emerged, their lithe forms adorned with formidable, moonlit silver fangs and claws, exuding an air of menace.

As the men persisted in their vigilance, they could not help but surmise that this night had drawn virtually every creature known to these lands, converging with the ominous intent to assail them, to make of their bodies a gruesome banquet, sating the insatiable hunger borne of the merciless North.

Damien tightened his grip on his massive ebony blade, bracing himself for the impending assault, and then, at last, he saw IT.

Emerging like a formidable reflection of his very essence, there appeared a creature of such potent presence that it instantly eclipsed its fellow beasts. It was a colossal black wolf, a behemoth akin to a carriage in size, navigating its way through the assembled horde. Its narrow crimson eyes blazed like twin infernos within its grinning face, and its long, obsidian fur gleamed with a subtle hint of violet beneath the silver embrace of the moonlight.

With each ponderous step, the earth quivered beneath the weighty tread of its massive paws, and its guttural, wrathful growls, though restrained, resonated audibly even from a distance.

The Crown Prince cleared his dry throat, his azure gaze locked onto the duke, as he queried,

"Have you ever encountered a creature such as this before?"

Damien paused, a faint, unsettling familiarity coursing through his feverish chest. He then shook his head lightly and finally responded,

"No, never. And that, precisely, is what troubles me most."

The foreboding stillness of anticipation shattered instantly as the colossal black wolf emitted a menacing growl, its monstrous voice reverberating across the landscape like thunder. The earth quivered under its might, shaking as if in the throes of a formidable earthquake.

In response to its commanding call, the remaining magical beasts surged forward almost as one, propelled toward the Army of Shadows by an unrelenting fuel of insanity.

The Crown Prince lifted his sword high above his head, his voice resonating through the frigid air as he bellowed,

"Steel yourselves for a battle that may demand your very lives! Spare no ounce of your strength; unleash your fury without mercy! Let no monstrous fiend escape the wrath of your unyielding blades! Charge!"

The Shadow Knights rallied in response, their voices joining in a resounding chant, accompanied by the thunderous clatter of blades against armor. As one, they surged forward, colliding headlong with the formidable legion of beasts.

For a fleeting moment, the world seemed to cloak itself in darkness, the meager illumination of the solitary moon obscured by the living barrier of these ominous creatures.

However, as the shockwave of the initial assault ebbed away, each man discovered himself encircled by writhing masses of flesh and fur, with viscous, dark blood spurting across their faces and armor. The harrowing, ear-piercing cries of lives fading into oblivion sent shivers down their spines, chilling their very souls.

Although it appeared as if these beasts were puppets manipulated by an inscrutable, malevolent force, even after what felt like hours of grueling combat, the stalwart Shadow Knights stood their ground resolutely. Neither Damien nor Loyd could discern any discernible losses on their side.

Amidst the fierce battle, a persistent concern gnawed at the duke – the massive black wolf with its piercing crimson eyes, an enigmatic figure that remained aloof and seemingly uninterested in the ongoing battle. It held its distance from the fray, an inscrutable observer as its minions met their demise.

’Is it controlling them? What kind of sorcery is at play here? I must find a way to reach it...’

As Damien dispatched yet another creature with a swift slash to the neck, he readied himself to advance toward the elusive wolf. However, in a sudden, disorienting moment, his thoughts clouded, his vision blurred, and he teetered dangerously, nearly succumbing to the frigid, blood-smeared ground.

’Damn it... It’s happening... Just as before... Damn it.’