Dungeon of Pride, Laplace

Chapter 957- Duke Vordanaz

Rothgard sat back in his chair, mulling over the plan. It was bold—dangerously so. No sane person would think about adopting such a tactic especially when it ran the risk of getting half of the army obliterated in one go.

But it was also brilliant. A typical general would never dream of abandoning a fortified position to race toward an abandoned ruin. And that, Rothgard realized, was precisely why it could work.

He now understood why Dravik summoned the mercenary in here and wanted him to hear the strategy.

"Very well," Rothgard said slowly, nodding "We'll discuss your plan further. For now, step outside. We'll call you back shortly."

Without protest, Simon rose from his seat and left the tent. As the heavy flap fell behind him, he exhaled a quiet sigh, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly.

He had been posing as a human mercenary using the Trinket of Grimlock. Thankfully no one was able to find out his true identity. However, this wasn't the reason why he was so conflicted. His crimson eyes flicked upward to the quest board hanging ominously in front of him, as if mocking his efforts.

ℜ𝔢𝔴𝔯𝔦𝔱𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔢 ℌ𝔦𝔰𝔱𝔬𝔯𝔦𝔞. Written across the board were several quests—some crossed out, others looming over him like unfinished business:

—Increase your reputation among the Alliance... (Completed)

—Join the Mercenaries... (Completed) —Scout the Gorgor Mountains... (Completed)

—Gain favorable standing with Dravik... (Completed) —Stop the southern alliance from being obliterated... (Ongoing) Only the last quest remained unchecked. Every sub-quest, difficult as they were, had served as steps leading toward the overarching goal.

That said, as easy as they sounded, the one to complete them, Simon understood how daunting of a task each of these was.

Every time he looked at these objectives, he couldn't help but grit his teeth. Especially at the last of the objectives of this sub quest.

Prevent the obliteration of the southern alliance at the hands of the Demon Lord of Envy.

"How the hell am I supposed to do that?"

Simon clicked his tongue, frustration creeping in as he stared at the questboard. Stopping the Demon Lord's army with the ragtag force of peasants and mercenaries currently with him felt like trying to fight giants with toothpicks.

The difference in strength was overwhelming—like standing against a tidal wave armed with nothing but sandbags. No weapons, no armor, no chance. No hope.

His gaze drifted back toward the horizon, where the Demon Lord's army marched relentlessly toward them, blotting out both the land and sky like an endless black tide.

Although there was a considerable distance between here and that place, the sheer scale of the enemy force sent chills crawling down his spine. The columns stretched so far that he couldn't see where they began or ended.

The landscape itself seemed swallowed whole by the approaching legion, and the oppressive sense of inevitability hit him like a fist in the gut. This was a stark reminder to everyone how powerful and incredible the Demon Lord of Envy and his army was.

He was no minor threat, but a colossal powerhouse capable of changing the fate of a continent.

Compared to this, the shows of power Simon had witnessed from the current possessor of the Fragments of Envy, the Demon Lord at Hexennacht felt quaint—like a child flaunting his toys.

There was no comparison between the previous Demon Lord of Envy and the current one. And the worst part? This was only one of many obstacles standing in his way.

His head throbbed as he recalled the final, most impossible quest written at the top of the board:

—𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐐𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭. 𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐈𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐨𝐟 𝐇𝐮𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧 𝐋𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐄𝐧𝐯𝐲.

That was the main quest. The real mission. The one that made his stomach churn every time he thought about it.

Seriously, How the hell was he supposed to clear such a quest? It was not like the previous trails were easy, they were dangerously hard, impossibly even and there was even a risk of losing one's life.

However, it was still somehow manageable and under his power level. But this, the seventh trial, surpassed all of it and was in a league of its own.

This was impossible, this was simply playing with his intentions.

Stopping the southern alliance from getting obliterated was hard enough as it is—but after that, he also had to prevent two legendary figures of this era, Itherion and the Seraphim of Humility, from slaying the Demon Lord of Envy?

Let's be clear on one thing, the characters mentioned here weren't just any run of the mill character. They were mythic figures whose deeds were etched into the very fabric of history.

The idea of standing in their way was madness—whoever designed this trial had to be insane. Simon's jaw clenched as frustration boiled within him.

What sick game is this? Whoever or whatever had placed him in this cursed scenario had left no room for retreat.

There was no option to back out. He was stuck in a historical event so ancient that even the most comprehensive records barely mentioned it. And yet, somehow, here he was—forced to live it.

Two weeks. It had been two gruelling weeks since he had arrived in this place and received the quest chain. Nôv(el)B\\jnn

In that time, Simon had slowly come to understand the terrible truth of his situation: the events unfolding around him were not just random happenings.

This was history—a forgotten piece at that—an event buried so deep in the past that only a few historical records remained in the present timeline. As he pieced together the clues, and thanks to his [Memories of the World], a chilling realization dawned on him.

This wasn't just any skirmish or historical event. No, what he had stumbled into was far bigger than anything he had imagined.

The events unfolding before him were a part of the Second Apex War.

Simon leaned against a nearby bark of a tree, his eyes still looking at the hovering questboard, his breath heavy. The realisation of the weight of the event he was caught in weighed heavily on his shoulders like a gigantic mountain.