Black Hearted Mage

The next morning, just as the sky was getting light, Caesar was awakened by a rustling noise. He opened his eyes dazedly and saw the fat dog wearing a bright red vest and shorts of the same color, standing upright like a human, staggering towards him on its hind legs.

"Bread, what's the matter?" Caesars rubbed his sleepy eyes, his voice still a little sleepy.

"Kaissa, it's me!"

Following the call, a small old man suddenly appeared from behind Fatty. Caesars took a closer look and saw it was Old Quinn, the deputy commander of the Hawkeye Legion. This usually energetic old man now looked worried, his wrinkled face etched with anxiety.

"Old Quinn, didn't you give me the alchemical bomb yesterday? Do you have anything else to do?"

As Caesars spoke, he propped himself up and sat up. He noticed that Old Quinn was hesitant to speak, and he couldn't help but frowned.

Old Quinn rubbed his rough hands and hesitated for a moment before speaking: "Caesars, can...can you ask Ms. Vivian to slow down the attack? The Empire is not ready to take over the Holy Thunder City, and the personnel have not been selected yet!" He spoke in a low voice, his eyes flickering, and it was obvious that he mustered up the courage to make this request.

Upon hearing this, Caesars let out a wry smile. "Old Quinn, I dare not speak of this," he said, raising his hand and pointing toward the east gate. "Don't you see those execution stakes erected outside the city?"

Since yesterday afternoon, the accompanying magicians have been using the Power Word to rigorously interrogate those captured and suspected of being rebels. All those identified as rebels have been impaled on the towering stakes. The outlines of the stakes are now faintly visible in the morning light, like rows of ferocious fangs, a silent warning to anyone harboring evil intentions.

Vivian's decision might be a bit cruel, but it eliminated the trouble left by the Saint Roland people. Crucially, the people of Saint Thunder City held her in the utmost respect, kneeling in obeisance wherever she passed, a ritual of the highest order on the Roland Continent.

With the Legion's advance halted, Caesars became the most idle of the group, spending his days wandering about with nothing to do. However, this leisure didn't last long, as he heard news from his scouts. Due to the incessant harassment of necromancers, the city of Gaslo had become semi-abandoned. This reassured Caesars that he had to eliminate these evil necromancers first.

Under the scorching midday sun, he told Vivian about his plan. The sorceress, sitting in her tent, flipping through an ancient tome, looked up, a flicker of worry in her amber eyes. "Are you sure you want to go it alone?" Her slender fingers unconsciously traced the edges of the pages. Caesars simply smiled and nodded. Some things, after all, must be resolved on their own.

That afternoon, he set off on his fat lava dog. Although the lava dog pup looked a little bloated, it was extremely agile when running.

Necromancers were always a threat, especially around Bitterwater Farm. The civilians there had long since emptied their homes, while the greedy necromancers were forever craving fresh soul energy. Caesars knew that his territory lay just across the Emerald River, and that those farms would sooner or later become the necromancers' new hunting grounds.

Other necromancers lacked the ability to float, but Sandro and old Roman were different. These two old monsters, now undead magi, could drift across the Emerald River's turbulent currents with ghostly ease. Thinking of those pale, withered fingers about to reach out for innocent villagers, Caesars tightened his grip on the reins. The fat dog, sensing his master's determination, let out a low whimper.

A day later, the dilapidated silhouette of Gasloo appeared on the horizon. This once-thriving city now lay utterly lifeless, the banners atop its walls reduced to tattered rags. The footsteps of the city guards were absent, and the market square was overgrown with weeds.

For years, necromancers had descended upon this place like vultures, devouring even the last vestiges of life. Saint Laurent's nobles had long since fled with their families, leaving only the common people, with nowhere else to go, lingering among the ruins like withered autumn leaves. As Caesars crossed the empty streets, several emaciated children peered at him fearfully from behind the broken walls before quickly retreating into the shadows.

Passing through the deadly silent city of Gaslo, the fat dog panted as it continued its gallop northward, its shrunken belly grumbling constantly as it ran. Even rats had vanished from this abandoned city, and its snout twitched wetly, but it couldn't detect even the slightest hint of musty food.

"Bread, back at the stone house at Bitterwater Farm..." Caesars' voice drifted in the wind. "Just stop those rotten guys, and I'll take care of the rest!"

As the blood-red sunset painted the sky crimson, with Bitterwater Farm still dozens of miles away, the fat dog's short legs finally gave out. Having skipped two meals today, it now slumped like a puddle on the dusty road, its large red tongue dangling. If Caesars hadn't promised a golden omelet for dinner, this glutton would have gone on strike long ago.

Caesars took out the specially made large frying pan from his magic bag. It was over a meter in diameter, and the bottom of the pan still had grease stains from the previous cooking. He placed the heavy thing on the charcoal fire. The fat dog's appetite was becoming more and more amazing. Preparing its meal was like preparing for a battle - he had to cut dozens of kilograms of diced meat alone.

When the amber-colored savage ox leg was removed, a rich, salty aroma immediately filled the air. The fat dog's eyes widened, and saliva streamed from the corners of his mouth, creating small pits in the dust. Without even looking up, Caesars swung his magic blade. A flash of cold light, and a shank bone, fragrant with the aroma of marrow, landed precisely in front of the fat dog. The glutton immediately pounced on it, whimpering with bliss.

Caesars's slender fingers danced swiftly, transforming the dark red meat into neat cubes. The fruit transformed into crystalline cubes under the knife's light, and the golden cheese was broken into small pieces. All the scraps went into the fat dog's never-satisfied stomach.

The fifty to sixty-pound salamander eggs, resting beside the charcoal fire, subtly absorbed the fire element. Lava-like crimson lines swirled across the eggshells, as if ready to burst into flames. These precious eggs now radiated an alluring hue, waiting to become the perfect ingredient for tonight's feast.

Just as Caesars cracked the eggshell with his magic blade and slowly poured the golden, crimson-tinged egg liquid into the scalding frying pan, the sound of dead branches snapping suddenly echoed from the nearby withered woods. Two figures draped in ragged gray cloaks slowly emerged from the shadows, a faint green light visible beneath their cloaks.

"Bread, the necromancer is coming." Kaisas said without raising his head, and shook his wrist lightly to spread the egg liquid evenly in the pan, "I want to fry the egg skin, you go and beat them to death!" A wonderful sizzling sound immediately came from the frying pan, and golden lace began to appear on the edge of the egg liquid.

The necromancer would leave Bitterwater Farm to devour the soul energy of the living. The fat dog crouching by the fire reluctantly stood up, its sleek fur gleaming dark red in the firelight. It wrinkled its wet nose in disdain. It was about to enjoy the delicious salamander omelet, and it didn't want its paws stained with the rancid undead slime.

The portly dog ​​strolled forward with a lazy, leisurely gait. Its stubby tail swayed gently with its steps, as if it were simply taking a leisurely stroll. When it was just ten meters from the necromancer, shrouded in ragged black robes, the fat dog suddenly stopped and slowly opened its bloody maw. Instantly, blazing orange-red flames erupted from its throat like a volcanic eruption, forming a dazzling dragon of fire that scorched and distorted the surrounding air.

After spitting out flames, the fat dog turned around as if nothing had happened, walked back with brisk steps, and even wagged its tail happily, as if it had just finished an interesting game.

Behind it, a raging orange flame raged furiously. The necromancer's withered body twitched violently in the sea of ​​fire, his rotten black robes instantly reduced to ash, and his pale bones crackled with a chilling sound in the intense heat. Even more terrifying, the dark blue soul fires twisted and deformed in the blaze. Though no sound could be heard, their heart-wrenching screams of agony could be felt.

In just two or three breaths, the once-dreaded Necromancer was completely incinerated, leaving not even a trace of residue. The flames purified him so thoroughly that the Soul Gem hanging around the Necromancer's neck couldn't even absorb a single ounce of energy.

Kaisas raised his head slightly, squinting to glance at the blazing orange flames, then lowered his gaze to focus on the sizzling pan. The golden egg liquid slowly solidified in the pan, its edges turning an alluring charred brown. The plump "bread" crouched beside the charcoal fire, its wet snout twitching from time to time, its tail slapping the ground in anticipation.

Kaisas expertly spread the pre-cut mushrooms, diced cured meats, diced fruit, and small pieces of cheese evenly over the half-cooked omelet. With a delicate flick of the spatula, he gently stirred the ingredients, blending them seamlessly with the egg. Once the aroma permeated the air, he rolled the omelet into a plump cylinder, patiently waiting for the final heat to permeate each delicious layer.

"Dinner's ready!" Caesars said to Fatty Dog, neatly dividing the omelet into four unequal portions. He saved the smallest piece for himself—enough to last until tomorrow's lunch. The remaining three portions were neatly stacked in Fatty Dog's designated bowl, still steaming.

"Remember to save some bread for a midnight snack," Caesars reminded as he put away the kitchen utensils. "We have to get to Bitterwater Farm before the moon reaches its zenith. The necromancer was burned to ashes just now, and those two old bones must have noticed it."

The fat dog hummed in response. It took a bite of the omelet, then deftly tapped the storage ring on its left front paw with its paw. The two remaining omelets vanished in an instant, replaced by a dozen crispy, wheat-scented bread rolls tumbling into the food bowl. The fat dog always had a precise eating order: first, a bite of the omelet, then a whole piece of bread, and finally a long gulp of beer, the pale yellow liquid dripping from the corner of his mouth onto the ground.

By the time the last crumbs were licked clean, Caesars had packed up his belongings. He skillfully mounted the fat dog's broad back. Under the moonlight, the figures of man and dog galloped north, raising a trail of fine dust.

In the deep stone hall beneath Bitterwater Farm, dim torches cast flickering shadows on the damp walls. Sandro's bony fingers unconsciously stroked his staff, a tremor emanating from deep within his soul making him vaguely uneasy. All mages who practiced necromancy were connected by a soul link, and at that moment, he could clearly sense that the soul fires of the two necromancers who had left Bitterwater Farm had been instantly extinguished by the extreme heat, and not even a final message had been transmitted back.

"Roman, did you sense it?"

Sandro asked Old Roman through magical sound effects, his hoarse voice echoing in the stone hall. He could feel the fire of his soul trembling slightly. This sudden demise was too strange.

In the shadows of a corner of the stone hall, a hunched figure wrapped in a tattered cloak stirred. Old Roman slowly raised his head, revealing half his wrinkled, gray face beneath his hood. A voice, hoarse like sandpaper, uttered from his cracked lips: "Of course... it was a... horrifically high temperature..." His fingers, like dry branches, twitched unconsciously. "The magicians who escaped... didn't even have time to issue a warning... their souls were instantly annihilated..."

The stone hall fell into a dead silence, only the sound of dripping water echoing in the darkness. For a long moment, Old Roman's cloak rustled as he trembled. "The power that could cause this kind of... instant destruction... could only be that of a fire mage..." He swallowed hard. "It seems... an elf is coming..."

As the two necromancers were whispering, the defensive array they had set up around the stone house suddenly trembled violently, and dark blue runes flickered in the void. At the same time, the necromancer on guard let out a shrill wail, and his soul fire instantly extinguished.

With the sound of bones breaking, the fat dog trampled on the still-burning remains of the skeleton and carried Caesar into the gloomy stone house. Every step its thick claws took made the ground tremble. Its scarlet eyes flashed fiercely in the darkness. It had no fear of the so-called necromancer.

"Well done, bread!" Caesars patted his mount's thick neck and landed neatly on his back. He flexed his wrists, and the magic blade at his waist gleamed coldly. "Now it's my turn—you just have to make sure none of these rotten mages escape."

Kaisas's gaze locked on the center of the stone house. There, a deep stone staircase led underground, and the smell of decay continued to rise from the ground. Kaisas could clearly sense countless cold magical fluctuations gathering underground—the necromancers were hiding deep beneath the building.