Chapter 48: Tiefling (II)
Soon, the gifted Meizhuolashi became a squad leader of the Northwind Keep city guard, patrolling the streets and upholding order—shouldering the sacred duty of protecting the city. During this time, he found a wife from his own kind, and soon after, a child joined their family. They bought a modest attic apartment within the city, and life seemed to be unfolding in the most beautiful way possible.
But then, everything changed.
On that fateful day, he was still diligently investigating the string of disappearances plaguing the city, unaware of the strange stares he was receiving—attributing them to nothing more than the usual suspicion toward outsiders. Then came the speech delivered by the noble "Lord Duke."
In an instant, his human neighbors—those who had once smiled and exchanged greetings—transformed into monsters. They raised torches high, cheering as they stormed into his home. His wife and child were bound to a pyre stake and burned alive before his eyes.
By the time he arrived, all that remained was ash. His former comrades, once brothers-in-arms, now slaughtered his kin like cattle. The fire of his soul—once bright with hope—was extinguished.
Meizhuolashi screamed, his voice raw with grief, and swung his silver sword with divine fury. He slaughtered every one of them.
He had become an Oathbreaker.
The radiant light within the Redeemer Knight had died. Only darkness remained. The cruel truth had shattered his innocence beyond repair.
"Such a naive fool," he whispered again, voice hollow.
Suddenly, a piercing horn blast echoed from outside the cave.
Meizhuolashi snapped back to reality, gripping his sword tightly and rushing out into the night.
"What’s happening?" he demanded, as the guards at the camp’s entrance looked frantic.
"Snowmen! Not just one—there are multiple!"
"Woaaah—!"
In the freezing stillness of the mountains, the chilling howls of the Snowmen pierced through the wind, echoing across the barren slopes and seeping into the hearts of the Tiefling survivors with icy dread.
These monsters could scent fresh blood from miles away, and they could track their prey through blizzards, relentless as death itself.
Meizhuolashi looked up. Dozens of ghostly white figures surged down the slope like a wave of winter itself.
"Ready for battle!"
"Damakos, take them down!"
The Tiefling warrior known as Damakos nodded grimly, drawing back his bowstring with a sharp twang.
Shhhhk—!
The arrow screamed through the air, piercing the forehead of a Snowman dead center. The beast collapsed like a felled tree.
One after another, the other Tiefling warriors nocked arrows and fired. But the wind howled, snow blinded their aim, and the distance was too great—arrows sank into the snow before they could strike home.
Damakos fired again and again. Seven shots, two hits. Two more Snowmen fell.
But in the storm, the creatures moved like phantoms through the snow, and even his masterful aim could not guarantee accuracy. Their relentless advance could not be stopped.
"Can't do it, Meizhuolashi! The snow’s too thick!"
"I can't see a thing!"
Damakos cried out, firing another arrow that found its mark—another Snowman fell.
Yet the tide of white horrors was now within a hundred meters of the camp.
If these starving, blood-thirsty monsters broke through the defenses, the result would be total annihilation.
"Come with me—meet them outside!"
Meizhuolashi raised his sword high, and forty-odd Tieflings followed him into the storm.
Their gear was crude—some carried only pitchforks, others torches, and a few had no weapons at all. But their eyes burned with unwavering resolve.
They had once been merchants, scribes, artists—but now, for the sake of their camp, for the safety of their families, they had no choice but to become warriors.
The Snowmen surged forward, eyes gleaming with hunger, their massive bodies towering over three meters tall, draped in thick, snow-white fur. To them, the Tieflings were nothing more than meat.
Meizhuolashi charged straight at the nearest beast.
But the Snowman didn’t attack immediately. It simply stared—its small eyes glowing with an eerie blue light.
Shiver Gaze.
The frozen gaze of a primate, capable of freezing its prey solid in an instant.
The icy aura struck Meizhuolashi like a blade. His body trembled, every nerve screaming as the cold threatened to freeze him solid.
"Damn monsters!"
He gritted his teeth, muscles straining, forcing himself to endure the agony.
Then, with a flick of his finger, he unleashed his power.
"Infernal Roar!"
A torrent of blazing hellfire erupted around the Snowman, engulfing it in eternal flame. The creature shrieked in agony, its fur igniting, writhing as it beat its massive limbs against the snow.
"Die!"
Meizhuolashi leapt high into the air—several meters—and brought his sword down with all his strength, severing the Snowman’s head mid-flame.
Another Snowman tried to use Shiver Gaze, but the effect had no power over him.
"Seizing Slash!"
As he descended, the blade sliced through the second beast’s shoulder.
"Aaargh!"
The creature roared, its massive hand instinctively slamming toward Meizhuolashi.
But the wound pulsed with a creeping, emerald shadow rot, spreading like poison through its flesh, eating away at its strength.
In that moment, Meizhuolashi used the surge of power to wrench the entire left shoulder and arm clean off, tearing it free with a sickening rip.
Blue blood splattered across the face of a nearby Tiefling—his expression unchanging, eyes wide but steady.
After felling two more, Meizhuolashi paused, sword raised, scanning the battlefield.
The fight was already raging. Tiefling warriors clashed with the Snowmen. Several of their comrades had already been frozen solid by the Shiver Gaze, turned into statues of ice.
Just as another Tiefling began to turn to ice, his entire body encased in frost—Meizhuolashi moved.
"Guardian Aura!"
A crimson aura flared around him, shimmering like a barrier of fire. It blocked the icy gaze, halting the freezing process mid-way.
He stepped forward, drove his sword deep into the chest of the nearest Snowman.
"Aaaaarrrgh!"
More Snowmen closed in—twelve of them now, a wall of white fury, swarming from all directions, determined to kill the Tiefling Holy Knight first.
Meizhuolashi stood firm, face calm, sword raised high.
"Oathbreaker Divine Channeling."
"Horror Manifestation!"
The broken Paladin channeled the deepest darkness within him—his pain, his rage, his despair—and forged it into a spell of pure psychological terror.
Blood-red light exploded from the sword, radiating outward in a wave of horror.
Each Snowman saw its worst fear—its deepest nightmare—reflected in the minds of the others. They froze, paralyzed by terror, unable to move.
Now, they were easy targets.
"Seizing Slash!"
Meizhuolashi slashed through the throats of several beasts in one fluid motion. Blood sprayed across the snow.
In just a few breaths, the twelve colossal forms collapsed backward like trees felled by a storm.
Not a single Snowman remained standing.
Panting heavily, Meizhuolashi leaned on his sword, half-kneeling in the snow.
"…Huff… huff… huff…"
(End of Chapter)
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