The Exiled Lord: My Maid is a Battle Goddess

The primary criterion for selecting guards had always been loyalty, not strength. Thus, even in the face of impending doom, the guards stood their ground without flinching.

"Kill them all!"

With a thought, a black magic circle surged forth from Phield.

"Divine Artifact — The Ring of Sin!"

The Corrupted Greatsword Warriors’ speed surged instantly. Like a pack of wolves, they charged forward without the slightest regard for whether gleaming spears or razor-sharp blades were aimed at them.

Roaring savagely, the warriors hurled themselves into the shield wall one after another. Raising their swords high, they struck down with raw, overwhelming force—no finesse, no technique, just brutal power.

Blood sprayed like curtains, splashing outward and lingering in the air.

In less than five minutes—

The hall descended into utter chaos, resembling a slaughterhouse. The stench of blood was nauseating.

Captain of the guard, Zet, could no longer maintain formation. The remaining guards were forced into individual combat. Amid flashing blades, living men were cut down like livestock.

Two Corrupted Greatsword Warriors swung their blades down at him, the sheer force of their strikes humming violently through the air.

Zet had earned his position as captain—he was no weakling. His magic surged as he raised his shield to block left, then drove his broadsword forward with precision, stabbing into a greatsword warrior’s neck and twisting hard.

He killed one—but his shield shattered under the impact. Forced onto the defensive, Zet retreated while desperately parrying.

"Damn it, they’re all magic-infused warriors—we’re no match!"

His iron sword was riddled with chips, emanating the foul stench unique to corruption.

"Run!"

A voice disruptive to morale rang out. Zet followed the sound and spotted a servant trying to slip away in the corner.

"No running—Lightning Cyclone Slash!"

Zet rushed forward, grabbed the servant, and drove his sword straight into him.

"Ahhh!"

The servant screamed, clutching his chest as he collapsed.

"They must not know where the lord has gone!" Zet roared. "Kill all the servants!"

Before his words could even settle—

A jade-green poisoned arrow pierced straight through his throat.

Zet clutched his neck in disbelief, trying to speak, but only a broken gurgle escaped his shattered windpipe. His face twisted in horror as he looked toward Phield, who had fired the arrow.

Darkness closed in on his vision.

"This weapon’s usually useless, but it works pretty well for sneak attacks."

With their captain dead, the guards lost all will to fight the invaders. Instead, they turned their blades on the servants, chasing them down and cutting them apart.

"Ruthless... at this rate, no one will survive."

Even Phield was taken aback. He immediately shouted:

"Anyone who wants to live, come over here! Surrender and you’ll be spared! Adrian doesn’t even treat you as human—you earn a few silver coins a month, and you’re risking your lives for him?"

Hearing this, the servants immediately fled toward Phield.

The greatsword warriors clashed with the pursuing guards.

Before long, every guard was annihilated.

Stepping over piles of corpses, Phield casually grabbed a maid.

"Where did Adrian go?"

"H-He... he escaped through a secret passage... I don’t know where it leads, my lord, I really don’t!"

The maid answered through sobs, trembling like a quail.

"Let me help you remember."

Phield pressed his blade to her throat—and immediately caught the stench of urine.

"My lord, we really don’t know!"

The other servants huddled together, not daring to meet his gaze.

Seeing no signs of deception, Phield felt an urge to start killing out of frustration.

"Looks like I’ll have to have the cavalry search outside the city."

Just then, his eyes fell on a fair-skinned man with shifty eyes, who kept glancing toward a stone seat in the center of the hall.

Phield’s thoughts raced. Then he let out a cold laugh.

"So that’s where you’re hiding."

He strode forward, magic surging, and brought his sword down onto the stone seat.

To his surprise, it didn’t budge. Faint magical fluctuations rippled across its surface, absorbing the damage.

"That’s awkward... what is this thing made of?"

Phield scratched his head. He had expected it to shatter instantly. Fortunately, the scene was too grim for anyone to laugh.

"Bring that one here."

Pointing at the man with the small eyes, the greatsword warriors immediately seized him and threw him before Phield.

"This is the secret passage, right? Open it."

The man stiffened, trying to act tough. "I-I don’t know..."

"Skin him alive. Let’s see if he still ’doesn’t know.’"

Phield revealed a terrifying smile.

"That should help him remember something important."

"Ahhh! My lord, I remember! This is Lord Adrian’s secret passage!"

The man spoke rapidly, terrified Phield might not be satisfied.

"I really can’t open it! Only a mage can—it’s said to withstand fifth-tier magical attacks!"

Damn it... who designs a hidden passage this sturdy?

"Where does it lead?"

"The stables to the east!"

"Good thing I prepared a backup."

Phield immediately issued orders through the black crow.

"Ashina, head to the stables. Do you remember Adrian’s scent?"

"I remember it. Anyone who’s your enemy—I never forget their scent."

"Good. Capture him."

Upon arriving at the stables, Ashina’s nose twitched. Following the scent, she quickly located a cellar.

Inside lay another hidden passage—but judging by the traces, Adrian hadn’t emerged. He was hiding somewhere within.

"Let’s flush him out with fire."

After a brief moment of thought, Ashina ordered the Drakewolf to unleash dragonfire.

Within three minutes, Phield heard frantic footsteps and screams echoing from underground.

Creak—

With the grinding of stone, the seat in the hall slowly shifted aside.

Several figures, blackened by smoke, stumbled out in a miserable state, their bodies carrying the faint aroma of roasted flesh.

Damn, you smell good.

"Well, well, well... if it isn’t Adrian. It’s only been a few days—how did you fall this low?"

Phield strode forward and slapped Adrian to the ground, then dragged him like a dead dog into the center of the hall.

"You can’t kill me! The wrath of the Ross family is beyond what you can bear!"

Adrian trembled, yet still held his head high, protesting with arrogance and fury.

"You’ve captured a noble. Treat me accordingly—I can give you limitless wealth."

"Of course, of course, Mr. Adrian."

Phield thought to himself: No rush—I haven’t had my fill yet. Why would I kill you so quickly?

Killing him in one strike would be mercy.

After ordering the greatsword warriors to restrain Adrian, Phield stepped outside to assess the battle.

If Alice broke in while he was busy dealing with Adrian, that would be troublesome.

Outside, Alice and Rosalia were locked in a stalemate, neither able to overcome the other.

"Huff... I can’t hit her."

Rosalia rested the greatsword on her shoulder, breathing heavily.

"Cunning little thing... only knows how to fight from a distance, huh?"