I Died and Became a Noble's Heir

Chapter 447 447: Break the Gates Down

”About to evolve into Nightmare rank, according to the ambient magical signatures,” Pho added casually, as if discussing the weather rather than a creature that could kill Rhys without a second thought.

Slyphʼs green aura flickered nervously. ”Rhys, are you sure about this? Nightmare-rank creatures are... theyʼre what people stay up at night about. Adventurers gather entire parties to attempt to fight them.”

”Iʼm not sure about anything,” Rhys admitted. ”But we donʼt have a choice. I need to clear this floor, and six more after it, in forty-nine days. Standing here being afraid doesnʼt help.”

Phoʼs blank white eyes somehow conveyed approval. ”Good answer. Fear is acceptable.” He gestured toward the fortress entrance. ”Now move forward. Show me that these fifty days werenʼt wasted on a coward who talks about bravery but never acts on it.”

The words stung, but Rhys recognized them for what they were.

A provocation meant to override his fear with anger or determination.

Pho had used the technique countless times during training, always pushing, always challenging, never letting Rhys settle into comfortable mediocrity.

Rhys started walking toward the fortress, his hands still gripping Tempestʼs Edge, lightning crackling softly along the blades. Slyph flew beside him, her presence a comforting reminder that he wasnʼt facing this alone.

”Itʼs warded,” Slyph observed.

”Can you disable it?” Rhys asked.

”Maybe? If I had about six hours and a reference library on ancient ice magic ward construction.” Slyphʼs green aura pulsed with frustration. ”Iʼm a wind spirit, Rhys. Ice magic is basically my opposite element. Itʼs like asking a fish to explain how desert sand works.”

”Then we donʼt disable it,” Pho said from behind them. ”We trigger it and deal with whatever response it generates. Wasting time trying to be clever gives the defenders inside more time to prepare.”

Rhys considered that logic and found it sound, if somewhat terrifying. ”So we just... walk up and knock?”

”Essentially,” Pho confirmed. ”Though perhaps with more force than polite knocking.”

Rhys took a deep breath, centering himself the way Pho had taught him.

Heʼd faced worse than a warded door in the past fifty days. Phoʼs training methods alone had included scenarios specifically designed to be psychologically traumatic.

This was just another test.

Another obstacle to overcome.

He raised both daggers, lightning intensifying along their edges until the storm cloud material seemed to be made of pure electricity. His mana flowed through the weapons, through his enhanced armor, through the connection he shared with Slyph.

”Storm Current,” Rhys whispered, and felt the technique activate at full power.

Lightning spread through the air around him in a visible web of blue electrical currents, each one carried by wind magic that made them twist and bend according to his will. The ambient temperature rose noticeably as the electrical energy displaced the cold.

Then Rhys thrust both daggers toward the gate, and the lightning responded.

The electrical assault struck the warded gate with enough force to crack the ice and shatter the crystalline reinforcement in places.

The wards flared brilliantly, trying to absorb or redirect the energy, but Rhys poured more mana into the attack, pushing past his normal limits.

The wards broke with a sound like breaking glass amplified a thousand times.

The gate exploded inward, ice and crystal fragments scattering across what appeared to be a massive entry hall.

And standing in that hall, already moving to respond to the intrusion, were twenty creatures.

Rhys got brief impressions of each type. Snowmen like the ones outside, but larger and more heavily armed, yetis that stood ten feet tall with claws that looked like they could tear through steel, ice buffalo with horns that glowed with frozen magic, and demons made of living ice with eyes that burned with cold fire.

All of them turned toward the shattered gate simultaneously.

They recognized an intruder when they saw one.

And all of them charged forward with the unified purpose of creatures defending their territory against an invader.

”Well,” Slyph said from inside Rhys, her voice carrying a mix of terror and excitement. ”I guess weʼre committed now.”

”Yes, we are,” Rhys agreed, raising his daggers as the horde approached.

The first yeti reached Rhys in three massive strides, its ten-foot frame moving with surprising speed for something so large.

Claws that looked like they could shred steel swiped toward his head in an arc designed to decapitate.

Rhys activated Wind Step, his body suddenly accelerating sideways as focused bursts of wind magic carried him out of the strikeʼs path.

The yetiʼs claws passed through empty air with a whoosh that would have been comical if the situation werenʼt so deadly.

He didnʼt waste the opening.

Both daggers flashed forward, lightning crackling along their edges as he slashed across the yetiʼs extended arm.

Tempestʼs Edge cut deep, the storm cloud material parting flesh and fur with ease, and the lightning discharged directly into the wound.

The yeti roared and staggered back as electrical current disrupted its nervous system. But it wasnʼt dead; all Rhys did was wound and enrage him.

ʼBehind you!ʼ Slyphʼs warning came through their connection just in time.

Rhys threw himself forward into a roll, and an ice bolt the size of his torso passed through the space where heʼd been standing.

The projectile struck the wounded yeti instead, freezing its already damaged arm solid.

”Friendly fire,” Rhys muttered, coming up from the roll with his daggers ready. ”Not very coordinated.”

”Theyʼre territorial creatures, not trained soldiers,” Phoʼs voice carried from somewhere outside the fortress. ”Use their lack of coordination against them. Make them obstacles for each other.”

Even though there were several creatures, only the snowmen generally worked together out of this group.

Easier said than done when twenty creatures were trying to kill him simultaneously.

An ice buffalo charged from his left, its horns glowing with frozen magic that left frost trails in the air. Rhys didnʼt try to dodge this time. Instead, he raised one hand and cast the technique that had become second nature over fifty days of practice.

”Water Prison!”

His water magic responded instantly, pulling moisture from the air and the ice covering the floor. The water coalesced around the charging buffalo, forming a sphere that trapped the creature mid-charge.

The buffaloʼs momentum carried it forward for another few feet before the waterʼs resistance brought it to a complete stop.

The buffalo thrashed inside its prison, horns glowing brighter as it tried to freeze the water. It was partially successful.

Ice began forming on the sphereʼs surface, but not fast enough.

Rhys thrust both daggers toward the trapped creature, lightning erupting from Tempestʼs Edge with controlled precision.

The electrical current spread through the water sphere in branching patterns, striking the buffalo from every direction simultaneously.

The creatureʼs body spasmed once and then went still as its nervous system shut down from electrical overload.

But Rhys had no time to appreciate the victory.

Three snowmen were already closing in from different angles, their ice spear arms thrust forward in coordinated strikes that showed more tactical awareness than the ones outside.

Rhys couldnʼt dodge all three strikes simultaneously. He had to prioritize and create an opening for himself.