paranoianovel Chapter 143 The Prayer of Black Iron City
Chapter 143 The Prayer of Black Iron City
Chapter 142 The Prayer of Black Iron City
The clock tower in Black Iron City struck twelve.
The midday bell tolled dull and long, but it was almost swallowed up by the overwhelming blizzard outside the city.
Os stood by the window of the lord's tower, his hands gripping the stone edge of the windowsill tightly, his knuckles turning white from the force.
He had been standing in this spot for the entire morning.
From the moment the first rays of the hazy dawn pierced through the snow and shone through the window, he stared intently at the northern horizon, at the world completely swallowed by the white blizzard.
That was no ordinary blizzard.
An ordinary blizzard wouldn't carry that suffocating sense of oppression, wouldn't make the third-tier knight on the city wall kneel down with weak legs, and certainly wouldn't make the only fourth-tier prophecy witch, Margaret, vomit blood in her tower.
That was the aura of the Winter Lord.
The oppressive aura of the fifth-tier monster pierced through hundreds of miles, yet it still allowed everyone in Black Iron City to feel a bone-chilling cold and fear.
Os's gaze passed over the city walls, over the flying snow, over the gray-white wasteland, and fixed on the core of the thick, impenetrable blizzard on the northern horizon.
That direction leads to Frostwolf City.
"It's over."
His lips barely moved, and his voice was so soft that he could barely hear it himself.
The Winter Lord has arrived in Frostwolf City.
Margaret's prophecy came true—in ten to twenty days, the fifth-tier monsters would lead their army south.
Fifteen days have passed since she made her prophecy.
Meanwhile, Frostwolf City, a border city-state ruled by a corrupt countess, with its military in disarray and its food supplies nearly exhausted, was now completely shrouded in a white blizzard ravaged by fifth-tier monsters.
Os could imagine what it was like over there.
The city walls collapsed under the Winter Lord's attack, the Witch Tower's attacks were like tickles to the fifth-tier monsters, and the knights' soldiers were torn to shreds under the onslaught of the monster army.
Civilians ran, screamed, and cried in the streets before being swallowed up by the overwhelming ice.
That corrupt countess will probably be the first to escape.
No, she couldn't even escape.
The white blizzard of the fifth-tier monster covered an area of hundreds of miles, and no human could survive in that area.
Frostwolf City is finished.
Osson opened the window, turned around, and his gaze fell on the parchment map on the desk that he had looked at countless times.
On the map, he drew a black cross over the location of Frostwolf City with charcoal.
The cross was drawn three days ago. When the vanguard of the White Curtain Blizzard first appeared on the northern horizon, he knew that the fate of Frostwolf City was sealed.
And the two words he had written earlier at the location of Black Iron City—"Live"—now seemed like a joke.
From Frostwolf City to Black Iron City, the monster army advanced at full speed, taking a maximum of three days.
In other words, he has at most three days left from now.
Three days.
Three days later, the white blizzard will sweep in from the north, bringing with it the Winter Lord and its tireless army of monsters, turning Black Iron City into a frozen ruin.
Os walked to the fireplace and picked up the small wooden frame from the mantel.
In the charcoal sketch in the frame, Olivia is squatting on the edge of a field, holding a wheat seedling in her hands, her face covered in mud as she smiles.
His thumb unconsciously rubbed the edge of the picture frame, the wood, worn smooth as jade, radiating a slight warmth.
"At least you won't have to go through all that anymore."
He spoke softly, his voice carrying a calm that came from utter exhaustion.
Olivia has died on the snowfield.
This is a fact he keeps telling himself.
A first-tier alchemist, accompanied by a butler and a bunch of farming equipment, has no chance of survival in the wasteland where the snow season has arrived early.
He couldn't even find her body.
And now, he's about to follow in her footsteps.
There was a knock on the door.
"Lord City Lord!"
The servant's voice trembled noticeably, not from the cold, but from fear.
"Lady Margaret asked me to tell you that the white blizzard in the north—it's expanding! She said the magical fluctuations in that direction are so intense that she can't perform any divination at all; all the bone plates shatter as soon as they're taken out. She said—"
The servant paused for a moment, as if gathering his courage.
"She said the Winter Lord may have already launched a full-scale attack on Frostwolf City."
Oss put the picture frame back on the mantelpiece.
"I see."
His voice was flat, so flat that it didn't sound like that of a city lord facing imminent annihilation.
"Tell Margaret to stop wasting materials and keep all the divination bones; they might come in handy later."
"Yes."
The servant's footsteps hurried away into the distance.
Os walked back to the window.
On the northern horizon, the core of that white blizzard seemed to have become even denser, with faint bluish-white lightning flashing within the churning clouds—a side effect of fifth-order magic tearing through the atmosphere.
He could feel the oppressive aura intensifying.
It wasn't a gradual increase, but a sudden leap to a higher level, as if the Winter Lord was unleashing all his power.
All-out offensive.
Frostwolf City is under full attack from a Tier 5 monster.
Os's heart clenched suddenly.
It wasn't for the countess of Frostwolf, nor for the city he had only visited twice, but for a simple logic: the faster Frostwolf fell, the less time would be left for Dark Iron City.
If the Winter Lord breaches Frostwolf City today, he won't even have three days to prepare.
Maybe only two days.
Even shorter.
Os closed his eyes, pressed his forehead against the cold glass, and felt the oppressive aura emanating from the north, which still sent shivers down his spine even hundreds of miles away.
He was silently calculating in his mind.
The walls of Black Iron City, level three.
It shatters instantly when facing a fifth-tier monster.
His subordinate, Margaret, a fourth-order prophetic witch, excels at conquest rather than combat.
Six third-tier witches, two third-tier knights, and three hundred city defense knights.
Faced with the Winter Lord, even with all these forces combined, they couldn't even delay him for half an hour.
All he could do was wait to die.
Or, before dying, make as many arrangements as possible for your funeral.
Os opened his eyes, turned around and walked to the desk, picking up a quill pen.
He wants to write a letter.
Write to the lord of Anvil Keep, informing him of the imminent fall of the North.
Although the messenger was unlikely to reach Anvil Castle across the wasteland during the snowy season, he had to try.
Once the snow season is over, someone will come to the ruins of Black Iron City, pick up this letter, and hand it over to the lord of Anvil Keep.
Inform the Iron Anvil Fortress across the mountains about what happened here.
If a monster has absolutely no interest in a letter —
The pen tip had just been dipped in ink, and before it could even touch the parchment, Oss's hand suddenly froze.
It wasn't because of hesitation, nor because of fear.
It's because the light outside the window has changed.
The change was so subtle that he wouldn't have noticed it at all if he hadn't been staring at the northern sky.
The core of that thick, almost solidified white snowstorm on the northern horizon is brightening.
It wasn't the bluish-white light of lightning, but a warm, soft glow that didn't belong to a blizzard at all.
It looked like something was burning at the heart of the blizzard.
Os put down his pen and quickly walked to the window.
He wiped the frost off the glass with his sleeve and pressed his face almost against it.
The light continued to expand.
A strange phenomenon began to appear at the edge of the whiteout blizzard: the rolling clouds stopped expanding outward and instead began to contract inward, as if being pulled back from the center by some force.
The fifth-order pressure that had enveloped the entire Black Iron City for several days was also changing.
It's not an enhancement.
Yes — weaken.
Os's pupils suddenly contracted.
He couldn't believe his senses, but his body was more honest than his brain—the heavy, suffocating pressure on his shoulders was gradually fading.
"What's going on—"
"The snow season has ended early?!"
.