Chapter 51: The Legendary Ice Mage Anastasia

"Advance, crush them."

Rogers' face was alight with excitement as he waved his lone arm, ordering his troops forward.

The gnoll soldiers, upon receiving his command, swung their chain hammers and flails, roaring loudly, launching their attack.

"Knight squires, fall back and protect yourselves. The rest of you, follow me—kill that one-armed gnoll!"

Veylin made a swift decision, issuing his order and then charging ahead, leading from the front.

Several mid-tier bronze gnolls were cut in half, their scalding blood staining the armor red, marking the true start of the battle.

In the next moment, more crazed gnolls surged forward, relentlessly attacking Veylin and the other six silver knights.

As the tide of gnolls grew, the seven men were separated, and Veylin gradually lost contact with his companions.

Marked as a priority target, Rogers gathered most of the high-tier bronze gnolls to besiege Veylin.

"Cut off one of this human’s legs—twenty gold coins. An arm—fifty gold coins."

The gnolls nearby, hearing their leader’s promise and intoxicated by the thick scent of blood, began to lose all reason.

Veylin swung his knight's longsword ceaselessly, each strike almost always claiming a gnoll’s life, yet their numbers only grew, never diminishing.

"This can’t go on."

Feeling his battle energy draining, he knew he had to make a decision or risk being exhausted to death here.

At that very moment, the legendary mage behind him awakened. Her cold gaze swept the surroundings as she murmured an incantation, and a massive magical beam began to coalesce.

Instantly, snow and ice covered the area, freezing every gnoll in place.

Panting, Veylin halted his movements, shaking the blood crystals from his armor, stunned at the sight around him.

A strange utterance echoed; the frozen gnoll statues began to crack, shattering into countless tiny crystals. Even the arrogant one-armed gnoll was no exception, becoming part of the snowy shards on the ground.

In a flash, the danger was dispelled. Veylin didn’t need to think to know who had done it.

He removed his helmet, approached the legendary mage floating in the air, and bowed deeply in respect.

"Thank you for your help, honored one."

The legendary mage heard Veylin’s words, confusion flickering in her eyes. She muttered softly, and soon understood the meaning of his speech.

"Young man, thank you for your rescue."

Hearing the familiar common tongue, Veylin marveled at the wonders of magic, though he kept his composure and maintained his respectful demeanor.

The mage looked around, parting her lips and asking, as if kindly, "What is this place?"

"Honored one, this is Graymist Mountain in Yellowstone Region, Graylight Wasteland, Western Sipnas Subcontinent." Sensing the indifference in her tone, Veylin dared not be negligent, answering truthfully.

"Graymist Mountain."

Her affirmation was steady, though inwardly she had already understood everything.

"Emergency escape… I truly arrived from the starry void to this world, but it cost me dearly. I must stop and recover." Feeling the oppressive laws around her, far stronger than her home world—a hundredfold at least—she realized this was a powerful and terrifying realm. It forced her to quickly forge connections with the natives, to balance the rejection and pressure of these laws; otherwise, her wounds would worsen, and death would be certain.

Veylin watched her silent contemplation, standing quietly, awaiting her command.

"As recompense, I shall protect you for thirty years. Will you accept?"

The time limit matched exactly what the guidance of fate had foretold. Observing her somewhat defeated appearance, he seemed to understand.

"It would be my honor."

With that, the legendary mage summoned a thread of restored magic within her, forming two pale violet magic circles beneath their feet.

Veylin felt a pang of panic at the sight, but the information that appeared in his mind the next moment dispelled his doubts.

"This is the guardian contract ritual. Under the witness of the god you worship, we shall form a pact."

"Yes, honored one."

The ritual began. Veylin donned a mask of piety and solemnly declared, "Upon the great Goddess of Life, your faithful servant... enters into covenant, please bear witness."

After a lengthy sacred oath, a beam of light enveloped them both.

Meanwhile, the twelve knight squires and six silver knights knelt in reverence, bowing their heads to honor the deity.

In Veylin’s gaze, the legendary mage seemed to see something, and her cold expression shifted to one of respect as she began her solemn vow: "I, Anastasia, legendary mage of frost, swear to shield Veylin and his domain for thirty years, guaranteeing absolute safety in exchange for—"

The rest of her words were a muddled blur in Veylin’s ears, as if spoken in a jumbled tongue.

"Agreed."

A voice of immense authority echoed, and the gentle light faded.

With the ritual complete, Anastasia, the legendary frost mage, landed gracefully, her curious eyes studying the young man before her. She seemed to want to speak, yet hesitated.

"From this moment forth, I shall protect you and your domain, until thirty years have passed."

"Henceforth, you may call me Anasta." Her gaze lingered with interest, her tone now gentle, stripped of the earlier indifference and coldness.

"Yes, madam."

Veylin lowered his head in reply, having gained a rough understanding.

"Raymondo, gather all valuables and supplies nearby."

Raymondo received the order, preparing to depart, but Veylin quickly called him back with a reminder, "Select only what is most valuable."

"Yes, my lord."

Their horses were limited, and it was impossible to carry everything the three hundred gnolls had brought. Only the most precious items could be chosen; the rest would be buried here, to be retrieved later.

As the temperature rose, the ice crystals on the ground began to melt, blood flowing down the mountainside, much of it remaining behind, nourishing the flora of Graymist Mountain.

Anastasia watched the busy group and, with a casual wave, conjured an ice throne.

Sitting upon it, she glanced at her tattered robe, then at her empty ring finger. There was nothing she could do now but accept the situation. She was no naive girl—having lived more than six hundred years as a legendary mage, she cared little for worldly opinions.

After all, who would dare disrespect her?

Bored, Anastasia’s gaze focused on the young man with whom she had just forged a pact, her curiosity undiminished.

She longed to know how this youth, not yet twenty, had earned the attention of the gods—and not just one. With her current strength, she dared not infringe upon the dignity of the divine.