Card Apprentice Daily Log

Chapter 2986: The Great Frosling Migration – V

Date: Unspecified

Time: Unspecified

Location: Myriad Realms, Dark Realm, Gelid Alps, Snow Elven Region, Frosell District, Frosnow City

Yes, the Snow Elves didn’t actively participate in the day-to-day affairs of the Frosling Tribal Leadership. They didn’t need to put their own political figures on the council or micromanage the shifting tribal seats. To the elven nobility, the Froslings were far beneath them—a dirty, subjugated race whose internal squabbles weren’t worth the paperwork. As long as the quotas were met and the snow spirits reported no signs of rebellion, the elves were perfectly content to let the Froslings govern themselves under the illusion of autonomy.

But it was a curated illusion. Had a single tribal head muttered a word of true treason near a snow spirit over the last few centuries, the Elven Capital’s enforcement squads would have descended like an avalanche, executing the rebellious leaders and installing weak-willed puppets to ensure the status quo.

Down below, the orderly mass exodus had officially begun. The Frosling citizens, guided by the frantic but disciplined instructions of their tribal heads, were stepping into the blinding white light of the activated array nodes. Hundreds at a time, their silhouettes blurred, warped, and vanished into the spatial tunnels leading directly to Freedom City.

The air grew progressively colder, thick with the smell of ozone and compressed space. The snow spirits outside the ward perimeters were beginning to swirl erratically, sensing the sudden, unnatural void in the local population density. The invisible wiretap was officially dead, and the silence from the Forsell District was going to scream louder to the Elven Capital than any alarm ever could.

A massive, resonant thud echoed from the northern horizon. The spatial distortion of thirty-seven cities firing up at once had finally breached the upper atmosphere, shattering the natural weather patterns of the Gelid Alps.

“Sigh, they are like moths to a flame,” I muttered, watching the sky.

From my vantage point high in the upper atmosphere, I could see the majestic, shimmering armor of the Snow Elven vanguard as they rapidly surrounded the borders of the Frosell District from all sides. To suppress what they assumed was a localized slave riot, the Capital had deployed thirty-seven specialized, Noble-class squads, each one led by a powerful Semi-Ruler class captain.

Just because the Snow Elves were classified as a Semi-Ruler class race didn’t mean they had Semi-Ruler class entities in abundance; they simply had just enough high-tier powerhouses to maintain their prestigious title in the Dark Realm. Yet, to think they could casually spare thirty-seven of them just to keep the Froslings in check… I suppose over the years they had hoarded quite a substantial military reserve.

But it didn’t matter how many they sent.

The sixty-four Frosling Bloodkins under my command were already at the Semi-Noble class, and more importantly, they possessed the complete, unrestricted Forsell Core Forging Technique—the true, original Ruler-class inheritance. If not for our severe time constraints, they could have easily reached the absolute peak of the Semi-Noble class, standing a mere step away from becoming true Rulers.

In each of the thirty-six outer cities, I had stationed two Frosling Bloodkins. Two of my elite super-warriors against a single squad of Noble-class Snow Elves led by a Semi-Ruler captain? It wasn’t going to be a battle; it was going to be a massacre. No matter how many elves came charging through the snow, they were stepping into a slaughterhouse.

Still, I didn’t dare to completely underestimate the hidden cards and desperate means of a genuine Semi-Ruler class force. But the Bloodkins didn’t need to completely eradicate them right away—they just had to hold the fort until the migration was complete.

And they were more than equipped to do so. Every single Bloodkin had access to the Pseudo-Celestial Rule Domain technique. While it wouldn’t hold a candle against a real Celestial Domain, it was easily ten times more potent, durable, and oppressive than any regular elemental domain the Snow Elves were likely to use.

The moment those Elven captains tried to expand their ice domains, they would find their laws utterly subjugated, suffocated, and crushed by the superior pseudo celestial rule domain of the very race they had enslaved. The elves confidently assumed the Froslings were still hopelessly stuck beneath the Semi-Noble class, broken and primitive. What awaited them instead would make them question their very understanding of reality.

I knew I could easily take advantage of the Snow Elves’ complete lack of preparation. With a single command, my Bloodkins and I could wipe out every single one of their monitoring forces surrounding the Frosell District.

But I chose not to.

Annihilating the vanguard entirely right off the bat would trigger a catastrophic panic back in the Capital, forcing the Snow Elven high command to immediately deploy their full, unrestricted might. If that happened, we would be stuck fighting a brutal, bloody war of attrition deep inside enemy territory when we could have just quietly completed our primary objective, collected the “interest” that was due, and dashed out of here before the main reinforcements could even assemble.

Therefore, the order remained absolute: the Bloodkins would simply toy with the Snow Elven forces, stringing them along to stall for as long as humanly possible.

Through the Hive Spirit, I witnessed absolute chaos erupt across all thirty-six outer cities at once.

In every city, two red-eyed Frosling Bloodkins emerged from the shadows surrounding the teleportation plaza. A dense crimson mist seeped from their bodies, spreading like a living tide and smothering the ambient energy until the air itself felt heavy.

At that very moment, pale blue streaks tore across the sky as the Snow Elven assault squads breached the city limits.

The first squad crashed into the snow of a frontier settlement, weapons already drawn, intent on decapitating the Frosling leadership before the city could organize a defense. Their captain raised a hand, and a frigid blue domain blossomed outward, threatening to blanket the city in a freezing blizzard.

Before the domain could fully unfold, it collided with a tide of crimson mist that swept through the city like living blood. In an instant, the blue domain was consumed. Reality itself bled crimson as the Elven squad was dragged into the Pseudo-Celestial Blood Rule Domain.

The Bloodkins were, after all, reborn of my cursed bloodline. Though they had inherited only a fraction of my comprehension of the Blood Rule, it was more than enough to manifest a pseudo-celestial domain and seize control of the battlefield.