The Devouring Knight-Chapter 367 - 366: Shattered Ward

The process was delicate, his mana guiding the liquid through her body, carving new channels alongside her natural ones. These new veins glowed softly, connecting into a fine network that pulsed with faint life.

Aurelya, Vaenyra, and Thessalia followed next. Each of them endured it in silence, though their expressions showed the strain. The Duke's concentration didn't waver even for a moment.

When it was done, he slowly exhaled. The faint glow on their skin began to fade as the alchemical energy settled inside them.

"These artificial meridians," Hadric explained, "will act as conversion lines transforming your mana into pseudo-Qi over time." 𝗳𝗿𝐞𝕖𝘄𝗲𝕓𝗻𝚘𝚟𝕖𝐥.𝚌𝕠𝕞

"This feels weird," Vaenyra said as she looked down at her arm. Faint golden lines glowed beneath her skin, one vein pulsing slowly like it had come alive.

Hadric let out a small chuckle. "That's natural. A foreign channel has been added to your body. You'll feel that way for a few days, but it'll merge naturally with your veins over time. Soon, it'll feel like it was always part of you."

Vaenyra nodded slightly, flexing her hand as she tried to get used to the new flow of energy within.

"Thank you for your help, Duke," Liraeth said softly, bowing along with the others.

Hadric smiled and waved it off. "No need to be so formal. It was my pleasure."

Lumberling stepped forward after them. "Senior, we'll be leaving today. Thank you for the accommodations and the teachings you've shared."

"Oh? Leaving already?" Hadric raised a brow. "Why not stay a few more days? You've only just recovered from the battle."

Lumberling shook his head. "We'd like to, but my companion here believes something bad is coming to this city. I advise you to be cautious, Senior, maybe even consider leaving this place for a while."

Hadric frowned, skeptical but listening. "What else could possibly happen? Didn't we already defeat Sigvar and his men?"

"It's hard to explain," Lumberling said, glancing toward Liraeth. "But I trust her words. Her visions have never been wrong."

Hadric was silent for a moment, then gave a faint sigh. "I appreciate the warning, but don't worry about us. This is my birthplace, my heritage, I can't leave it, even if it cost me my life."

He leaned back in his chair, his expression calm but resolute. "Besides, I can't abandon my people. If danger really comes, it's my duty to stand with them. And truth be told, the lands beyond our walls might be even more dangerous."

"This…" Lumberling wanted to say more, to convince him somehow, but before he could speak, Vaenyra placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and shook her head.

He met her eyes, then sighed softly. "Alright then," he said, turning back to Hadric. "If something happens, you'll always be welcome in Liraeth's city."

Hadric gave a small smile and nodded. "Thank you. I'll remember that."

Lumberling straightened and offered his hand. "Then I suppose this is farewell. If fate allows, let's meet again someday Senior."

"Indeed," Hadric said, clasping his hand firmly. "May your path ahead be smooth."

With that, Lumberling and his group departed from the Martial Artists' territory. The wind was cool, and the sun hung low in the sky as they began their long journey home, each of them carrying not just their gear, but the cultivation arts they had gained, and the quiet sense of growth within.

...

Two weeks later, after a steady and uneventful journey, the group finally stood before the gates of Liraeth's city. The towering walls and familiar banners welcomed them like old friends.

.....

Meanwhile, in the Stonepalm Duchy, chaos had already taken root, especially in the heart of the city, Stonehaven.

The Vikings had returned, but this time their numbers were overwhelming, ten times greater than Sigvar's army. Tens of thousands marched under their banners, their roars shaking the very air.

Even among them were countless elites, far stronger than the last wave. A dozen or more carried power equal to the Elders themselves.

From the highest point of the red pavilion, Duke Hadric stood in silence. His one arm rested against the rail as he looked over his city, now shielded beneath the faint glow of a massive barrier.

The Defensive Array trembled under each strike, waves of force rippling through the city walls, but it held.

'Is this the disaster Lumberling warned me about?' He thought, a faint regret tugging at his chest.

Hadric's jaw tightened. This was his final line of defense, one he had poured all his wealth and remaining resources into. Even if a Peak Knight Four attacked, he was confident it could last at least a week.

He could only hope the Vikings would tire of the siege before then, and that his people would live to see another dawn.

But then, the Vikings' ranks suddenly parted. Their roars quieted as heavy footsteps echoed through the battlefield. Each step made the ground tremble.

A thunderous voice boomed from within the crowd.

"You worthless lot can't even break a simple barrier? Move aside!"

The soldiers quickly cleared a path. From between them, a giant of a man emerged, towering, broad, and bare-chested despite the cold wind. His thick beard flowed down his chest, and a massive dragon tattoo stretched across his back like a living beast.

The air around him was heavy and suffocating. Power radiated from him like heat from a forge.

He reached behind him and pulled out two enormous axes, each large enough to cleave a man in two. Then, as he raised one of them high, the dragon tattoo behind him came alive, its shape glowing with fiery light as it let out a thunderous roar alongside him.

"ROAR!!!"

With a single swing, a wave of pure energy exploded forward. The sound split the sky as the city's barrier shattered in an instant, bursting apart like fragile glass. But the attack didn't stop there, it cut through the streets below, carving a deep, burning scar straight across Stonehaven.

From the top of the red pavilion, Duke Hadric stood frozen. His heart nearly stopped as he watched the impossible scene unfold before his eyes.

"That… that's…" he whispered, his voice trembling as the color drained from his face.

Before him stood Hroldir the Dreadwake, the King of Vikings from the North himself.

The Duke's hands shook as a crushing pressure rolled through the air. It was as if the very heavens pressed down upon his city.

Hadric gritted his teeth, feeling the weight of that power bear down on him. 'So he came… the true king of the North.'