Standing on the charred, blackened earth, Pelzen stared at the ruins before him with a dark, stormy expression.
In truth, Pelzen had known something was wrong the moment his scouts had discovered traces of the enemy's campsite. As the heir to House Byrd, he was well aware of the murky, tangled relationship between his family and Daros the Moon Wolf. Before he had set out on this expedition, the patriarch had warned him repeatedly to steer clear of Daros's territory. A High-Tier Swordsman was an invaluable asset, after all—and if the Pale Eagles found out about their alliance, it would spell disaster. While Daros would likely escape unscathed, if he misinterpreted their presence as an attempt to silence him, the consequences would be catastrophic. House Byrd knew full well that Daros held plenty of damning evidence against them. If he were to expose their dealings to the public, he—an independent High-Tier Swordsman—could simply vanish and rebuild his power elsewhere. But House Byrd would not be so lucky. A noble house's foundation lay in its lands and its influence, things that could not be packed up and carried away at a moment's notice.
Earlier, when Pelzen had watched the Pale Eagles march toward the forest's outskirts, he had felt a flicker of relief. After all, the Twilight Forest was vast—who could say exactly where the Moon Wolf Bandits' stronghold was hidden? But that glimmer of hope had died the moment he saw the towering plume of black smoke rising from the heart of the forest, as if the enemy were deliberately drawing their attention to the site. At that moment, Pelzen's heart had sunk to the very bottom of his stomach.
As he marched alongside the Pale Eagles toward the source of the smoke, Pelzen had prayed fervently that Daros would not link this attack to House Byrd. But when he saw Daros's tattered clothing and broken weapon lying discarded on the ground, a strange mix of emotions had washed over him—relief, and a faint, unnameable sense of loss. No body had been found, but given the state of the ruins, it was clear that Daros was dead. With him gone, House Byrd's secrets would remain safe. Yet at the same time, Pelzen felt a twinge of regret. Losing such a powerful ally was a heavy blow to House Byrd. High-Tier Swordsmen were not easy to come by, and without Daros's protection, the Byrds would lose their "extra income" from this trade route for a long time to come.
How interesting.
Duke Baron glanced at Pelzen, who stood beside him with a livid, silent expression, then turned his gaze back to the burning stronghold. His eyes narrowed slightly as he studied the bodies strewn across the ground, a sharp glint of realization flashing in his eyes. There, planted upright in the dirt, was a sword—its deliberate placement clearly intended to send a message to anyone who found it. And Duke Baron knew exactly what that message meant.
Military-issue weaponry.
Duke Baron shot another look at Pelzen, who continued to stare at the ground as if it held a fortune in gold.
But the duke had no intention of pressing the matter further. He simply waved a hand, and a senior sergeant hurried to his side, saluting crisply.
"What's the situation?"
Duke Baron asked in a low, gravelly voice.
"The same as always, Commander."
The sergeant was a veteran of countless battles, but his face now bore a look of uneasy apprehension.
"The fire's too intense for the men to enter the stronghold, but from what we can see outside, it's just like the other raids. Only bandit corpses. The enemy left no traces behind."
Duke Baron nodded slowly, saying nothing more. He understood exactly what his soldiers were thinking. At first, the men of the Pale Eagles had been furious at having their prey stolen out from under them. For soldiers—for warriors—battle was where they proved their worth. But for nobles like Pelzen, it was all about profit. To have their targets eliminated before they even arrived was a blow to their pride. But as the raids continued, the soldiers' attitudes had begun to shift.
Once or twice, it was manageable. There were plenty of bandits in the forest, after all—they could always find another target. But three times? Four times? Every time their scouts finally located a bandit lair, they arrived to find nothing but corpses.
How many times could this happen before it stopped being a coincidence?
It was no wonder the soldiers of the Pale Eagles were now filled with resentment toward these unseen raiders. They knew logically that the enemy was not deliberately trying to steal their glory, but having their missions sabotaged time and time again was enough to fray anyone's patience.
But as the days wore on, that resentment had curdled into something else: awe.
Battle meant casualties—that was an unavoidable truth. Even the elite soldiers of the Pale Eagles could not hope to emerge unscathed from a fight against bandits. Yet this mysterious enemy had managed to do just that. In every raided stronghold, they found only bandit bodies—not a single corpse of the attackers. Nor were there any signs of burial. Could it be that they had taken their fallen comrades with them? While possible, it made little sense. If they were carrying bodies, they would have fled the scene as quickly as possible. To carry the dead into battle was a crippling burden.
Which left only one conclusion: the enemy had eliminated these bandit gangs with zero casualties.
Zero casualties.
That single fact had shaken the soldiers' confidence to its core. For days, they had speculated about who these mysterious raiders could be. Were they royal guards? Or a band of wandering powerful warriors? According to scout reports, there were only a dozen or so of them—far too few to be a formal army. Just how strong were they?
"Where are our 'friends' headed now?"
Duke Baron asked with a bitter smile.
"The scouts report they've headed north, sir."
The sergeant replied quickly, his face mirroring the duke's helplessness.
"North…"
Duke Baron murmured, his gaze drifting toward the northern edge of the Twilight Forest—toward the Infinite Wilderness, the lawless land of mercenaries.
"It seems our friends' journey here has come to an end."
Duke Baron sighed softly. To be honest, as the commander of one of the kingdom's elite forces, he was itching to give chase. It was not because of the stolen missions. It was because warriors this powerful, this disciplined, would be an invaluable addition to any army. If possible, he would have loved to recruit them into the Pale Eagles. After all, the precision with which they had eliminated these bandit lairs far surpassed even that of the Black Fangs—the kingdom's other elite unit, whose specialty was covert raids. Not even the Black Fangs could achieve such perfect, bloodless victories.
But Duke Baron forced himself to stay his hand. He was a commander, the leader of the Pale Eagle Knights. The moment he had seen the bandit stronghold go up in flames, he had realized he had been outmaneuvered. The traces of the enemy's campsite had clearly been a feint, designed to lure them into making the wrong move. The fire had been a signal, drawing them to the true site of the attack.
It was clear that these raiders were well aware of being followed—and that they had no desire to make contact with the Pale Eagles.
In that case, there was nothing left to do but let them go. Duke Baron also knew that to pursue them further would take his men beyond House Byrd's territory and into the lands of other nobles—a clear violation of protocol. They had been invited here by House Byrd to suppress the bandits. To trespass into another noble's domain would be seen as an act of aggression, and would undermine the authority of the royal family. So despite his regret, Duke Baron knew the mission had to end here.
"Send the order. We withdraw."
Duke Baron turned his gaze back to Pelzen. The young noble had regained his usual composure, but his pale, tight-lipped expression betrayed his inner turmoil.
Was he upset about his failed plan to gain fame among the nobles? Or was there something more to it?
Duke Baron raised an eyebrow, but said nothing more.
On the surface, this expedition had been a complete waste of time. But Duke Baron knew better. In truth, he had gained something far more valuable than a few dead bandits.
Now, it all depended on how he chose to use it.