This Lich is a Better Landlord Chapter 66

Gareth reached up and touched his neck, instantly falling into a panic.

The armor he wore was a masterpiece forged with the full support of the Bone Dragon clan—a top-tier enchanted suit that bordered on being an artifact. However, the helmet on his neck was something he had cobbled together himself as a decoration. The glow of the soul fire inside was merely a cosmetic effect, originally intended to help him disguise himself as a Death Knight when he ran away from home.

But that last strike had been so intense that Gareth hadn't paid attention to the helmet's latches. The impact of the Divine Smite had sent it flying.

Gareth scrambled to jam the helmet back on. Although the battle had been fierce and no bystanders were around, if someone saw him and realized he was a Dullahan, the news might spread and reach his wife.

I have to weld this helmet directly to my neck later, he thought. I can't afford any more slip-ups.

Watching Gareth's nervous fumblings, Ambrose didn't have the heart to tell him the truth.

Although Withered Rose hadn't given specific details, Ambrose could guess that she and Gareth's wife had teamed up to catch this runaway husband. Otherwise, she wouldn't have known the movements of these Paladins so well.

For all they knew, those two were watching Gareth from some corner right now.

Marriage really is a grave, Ambrose mused. A grave that even the undead want to flee from.

Ambrose looked toward the tavern, The Slag and Ember. The establishment had been completely destroyed by the shockwaves of the battle. The ruins looked exactly as they had in the prophecy.

The first prophecy had come true. However, Ambrose had originally assumed the Bone Dragon heiress would destroy the bar while catching her husband in the act. In reality, it was destroyed during the fight between Gareth and Starlight.

So, regarding the prophecy about his head being removed—was his interpretation of that also incorrect?

Lost in thought, Ambrose fished the dying Starlight out of the crater.

Although Starlight had burned through almost all his lifespan, his body, honed by years of rigorous training, held together. He had survived, but he had lost all capacity to resist. This was perfect. A living Paladin was worth money; a dead one was only good for selling a soul.

Ambrose skillfully stripped Starlight of all his equipment and stuffed it into his dimensional pocket. However, when he removed the silver-white helmet from the Paladin's head, Ambrose's hands were severely scorched, smoke rising from his skeletal fingers.

Ignoring the pain, Ambrose summoned a Mage Hand to remove the helmet. After inspecting it closely, he exclaimed excitedly, "What powerful Holy Light! I've found a treasure!"

He didn't yet know it was a replica of the Crown of Lathander, but he could feel the divine power contained within. It was definitely a valuable item worth tens of thousands of gold coins.

He decisively stowed it away before turning to Starlight. "You've lost completely. If you don't want any more senseless casualties, why not cooperate with me and convince your companions to surrender?"

The intense burst of Holy Light earlier had undoubtedly alerted the other Paladins. Ambrose could sense them rushing toward this location. Although Gareth was powerful, if the fight continued, they might destroy half of the City of Alchemy. If that happened, those crazy alchemists would certainly use it as an excuse to cause trouble.

Starlight was so weak he couldn't even move a finger, but upon hearing Ambrose's words, he spoke firmly, "We... never... fear death... The Holy Light... will guide... us to the Kingdom of God."

"Tsk. I knew you people would say that."

Just as Ambrose finished speaking, several beams of Holy Light lit up the end of the long street. Starlight's companions had arrived.

This time, nine Paladins appeared. That meant the rest of the squad was all here.

Ambrose cast several layers of binding and sealing spells on Starlight, then used Dimension Door to send him back to the castle, stuffing him into a pre-prepared cage.

By now, the nine Paladins were charging toward Ambrose and Gareth, shouting about Holy Light and justice.

The soul fire in Ambrose's eyes condensed into two sharp points as he spoke seriously to Gareth, "Let's make this quick! Finish them before those alchemists lose their patience."

Gareth re-buckled his deformed helmet and said, "Cover me. Don't let anyone see."

Ambrose thought to himself, Your wife already knows. What's the point of pretending?

Nevertheless, Ambrose complied with Gareth's request. He cast a spell to isolate the entire city block, completely shielding the interior from outside perception.

The Celestial Warhorses were incredibly fast, crossing hundreds of meters in the blink of an eye. The longswords in the Paladins' hands glowed with Holy Light, intent on utterly destroying Gareth.

But soon, they realized they were too naive.

Gareth smashed his fist into the ground. Terrifying power pulverized the earth, and a shockwave mixed with rubble slammed toward them with the force of a landslide.

The nine Paladins immediately adjusted their formation. The Holy Light from their bodies fused into a massive shield, blocking the terrifying attack.

Although they were unharmed, the momentum of their charge was slowed.

However, Gareth's punch hadn't really been an attack. Massive amounts of dark mana flowed from his fist into the ground, drawing a gigantic magic circle.

Then, under the shocked gazes of the Paladins, a magnificent Eight-Legged Steed leaped out of the magic circle.

Gareth leaped high into the air, landing on the horse's back. The Eight-Legged Steed was massive, large enough to carry Gareth's four-meter-tall frame. When its hooves struck the ground, each step caused an earthquake.

Grey smoke puffed from the steed's nostrils, and its eyes burned with roaring soul fire. Its dark, greenish-black body was covered in dense dragon scales. One look confirmed it was another undead mount custom-made for him by the Bone Dragon clan.

After all, what kind of knight is a Dullahan without a mount?

Ambrose watched with immense envy. Being kept by a rich sugar mommy must be amazing. Ambrose could bankrupt himself and still might not be able to acquire such a horse.

Gareth pulled on the reins and shouted excitedly, "Old friend, it's been a while since we stretched our legs! Let's warm up a bit today!"

The chain-blade he held snapped straight, transforming into a lance over ten meters long. This was Gareth's true weapon. Using the chain-blade before had purely been a disguise to avoid being recognized by his wife.

Now, he simply stopped pretending and attacked in his strongest form.

The Eight-Legged Steed let out a roar, its eight legs moving in a complex rhythm as it charged toward the Paladins.

The run alone caused the earth to shake and the mountains to tremble. The combined weight of Gareth and the steed exceeded a thousand tons; even the city walls of the City of Alchemy probably couldn't stop them.

During the charge, both Gareth and his mount were wrapped in dark mana, leaving behind nothing but the aura of rot and destruction.

Warding Bond, Sanctuary, Shield Spell, Aura of Protection... No matter how many defensive divine spells the Paladins cast on themselves, they were meaningless before the charging Gareth.

Ambrose watched as the nine Paladins were all sent flying by a single charge. When they hit the ground, they were instantly incapacitated, none able to stand up again. Every Paladin suffered full-body fractures, the Holy Light on their bodies dimmed, and even their armor was corroded by the massive amount of dark mana, turning into what looked like rusted iron.

This sight made Ambrose's heart ache. If he could have stripped that armor off intact, how much money would it have been worth? Brother Headless really didn't know the value of money since he wasn't the one managing the household.

However, Gareth hadn't used his full strength. He knew Ambrose wanted them alive, so he had held back during the charge. The nine Paladins were crippled, but they had all survived.

Ambrose felt somewhat comforted, but also a bit strange.

Why didn't these remaining Paladins use that technique to burn their lifespans and forcibly raise their power level?

Even mortals could sacrifice their lives for power; surely they knew how?

Or was there some activation condition?

Ambrose shook his head, suppressing his curiosity. A scholar's habits were untimely right now. The Paladins had been dealt with; the next part was the main event—trading with the City of Alchemy.

Was that Wish Engine, which the city treated as a treasure, really that miraculous?