The battle was over in the blink of an eye.
With the Priests no longer there to support them, the Church warriors stood no chance against the spectral warriors. Stripped of their divine protections, they were utterly powerless against these undying foes. And when they watched their mightiest knight—once a paragon of strength in their eyes—go flying backward and explode into a shower of gore before their very eyes, the last shreds of their will to resist vanished completely. What followed was nothing short of a one-sided slaughter.
"That's enough. Call it a day."
After another Church warrior screamed as his head was lopped from his shoulders, Blake gave the order. At his command, the spectral warriors immediately sheathed their weapons. All around them lay nothing but mutilated corpses—all except for one trembling young girl. Her pristine white robes were stained crimson with blood; she huddled half-sitting on the ground, her eyes vacant as she stared numbly at the carnage before her.
"Please don't kill me... Please don't kill me..."
"What's the matter here?"
Blake frowned at the sight of the girl, then lifted his gaze to Jody.
"I think you might be in need of some relaxation, my lord," Jody replied, her tone betraying not a hint of emotion.
"This girl isn't half-bad looking, is she? Not as lovely as us, of course... But still, my lord, it never does well to bottle up too much tension."
"I don't recall asking for your opinions on my private life."
"It is our duty as your subordinates to look out for you."
Jody's words drew soft chuckles from the spectral warriors behind her—clearly, they had no objections to her suggestion.
"Besides, she's just a Church lapdog anyway..."
As she spoke, Jody shot the girl a cold glance. Beneath her pitch-black helmet, her eyes blazed with crimson light.
"I'd wager she's still pure and untouched."
Blake was not the least bit surprised by Jody's words. The spectral warriors had never harbored any love for the Holy Grace Church, and for good reason. The necromancer who had trapped their souls and bound them to this world as spectral warriors had once been a high-ranking archbishop of the Holy Grace Church. In the name of the Church, he had recruited these young girls, cruelly put them to death, and then used forbidden dark magic and divine spells to shackle their souls, condemning them to an eternity of wandering the mortal plane.
If Blake's enmity toward the Church stemmed from principle and territory, then the spectral warriors' hatred was purely personal. To them, every single member of the Holy Grace Church was an enemy. That was why they never passed up an opportunity to humiliate and destroy anything associated with the Church.
"I appreciate the thought, but no," Blake said, shaking his head despite understanding Jody's intentions.
"I understand how you feel. But... I trust you still remember my rules?"
Jody froze for a split second at Blake's words, then quickly realized her mistake. She let out a long sigh and flipped her greatsword around in her hand, ready to correct her error.
"Very well then—"
"Wait."
But just as Jody raised her sword to strike, Blake held up a hand to stop her. He glanced up at the towering mountain ahead, his eyes narrowing slightly, then turned and walked over to the girl. He knelt down beside her and looked her in the eyes.
Sensing someone approaching, the girl scrambled backward in terror. She stared at the man before her, her heart pounding with dread. She did not know what horrors awaited her—but she was certain they would be unspeakable.
"Please don't kill me! I beg you, please—!"
Tears streamed down her face as she stared at the young man. She had been a member of the Holy Grace Church for quite some time, but she had spent most of her days in seclusion, training and studying, rarely venturing out to participate in battles. This was only the fifth time she had been sent into the field, and she had never imagined that her comrades would be slaughtered so effortlessly right before her eyes. She had seen casualties in battles before, but those had been the result of fierce, hard-fought clashes between two evenly matched sides.
Today was different. What she witnessed was her fellow warriors being tossed around like helpless dolls, their bodies crushed and shattered as if they were made of porcelain. The sheer, overwhelming gap in power between them and their enemies had shattered her mind completely. All her fighting spirit had evaporated; she did not know what to do or where to run. Paralyzing fear had seized her by the throat, and in that moment, all the teachings and doctrines the Church had drilled into her head vanished without a trace. All that remained was the primal human instinct to survive.
The sight of Dieder's corpse had been the final straw. She could not believe her eyes—the strong, reliable figure she had looked up to was now nothing more than a mangled pulp, his body crushed beyond recognition. Through the gaping wounds, she could clearly see the white splinters of his bones protruding from the tattered, blood-soaked flesh—a gruesome, horrifying sight that would haunt her nightmares forever.
"Please look at me, miss," Blake said, his voice unexpectedly gentle. The soft tone seemed to calm the girl's trembling. She slowly lifted her head to meet his gaze, her teeth clenched tightly as she tried to steady herself. But her body continued to shake violently, and she dared not look anywhere but at Blake's face. She could not bear to see her fallen comrades, could not bear to look at their lifeless bodies. Her mind was a blank, and she did not even remember how she had taken his hand and stood up.
When she finally snapped back to her senses, she found herself standing directly in front of him, being studied by his pitch-black eyes.
She was a delicate, unassuming girl, Blake thought to himself as he studied her carefully. She was one of the three Priests—the only one who had been spared. She was not particularly beautiful, just plain and gentle-featured, with fair skin and a slender, fragile frame that spoke of a life sheltered from the harsh realities of battle. Her eyes were still glazed over with fear, and her entire body trembled like a leaf in the wind.
Blake reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder. The simple gesture caused her to flinch and pull away reflexively, the confusion and terror in her eyes plain to see.
"Please don't kill me! I beg you—!"
"I'm not going to kill you," Blake said, spreading his hands in a gesture of reassurance and offering her one of his signature elegant smiles.
"The battle is over, miss. You are no longer our enemy... Or would you prefer to continue fighting us?"
The girl's head shook violently from side to side, her eyes wide with terror. She did not want to die in this godforsaken place—not like this!
"Good," Blake said, smiling at her reaction. He turned and issued a new order to Jody.
"Take her away and keep her safe. Make sure she's comfortable and well looked after. I don't want any harm to come to her."
"Understood, my lord."
Jody nodded and stepped forward, leading the girl away from the battlefield. It was only then that the mercenaries, who had been standing at a distance watching the entire scene unfold, finally mustered the courage to approach. When they caught sight of the surviving Priest, they all froze, exchanging confused glances and shooting Blake looks of undisguised bewilderment.
The mercenaries were not fools—they knew exactly what was at stake here. Blake's decision to defy the Holy Grace Church and slaughter their knights had shocked them to the core, but they had quickly come to terms with it. After all, dead men tell no tales. With all the Church warriors wiped out, there would be no witnesses to link them to the massacre. Once they left the Duskwood, no one would ever know that they had crossed paths with the Holy Grace Knights, let alone that they had been traveling alongside Blake. If the Church ever decided to seek revenge, they would go after the young noble lord, not a ragtag band of mercenaries.
But now Blake had left a witness alive. That was a problem—a big problem. This girl had seen their faces; she had seen the emblem of the Azure Feather Mercenaries emblazoned on their armor. If Blake let her go, and she told the Church what she had seen, the Azure Feather Mercenaries would be doomed. The last thing they wanted was to become enemies of the Holy Grace Church!
Of course, as much as they grumbled inwardly, none of the mercenaries dared to voice their complaints to Blake. After all, he and his black-armored warriors had been the ones to turn the tide of the battle; the mercenaries had merely stood by and watched, completely out of their depth. This was a battle between knights—far beyond the league of a group of low-Tier swordsmen. So they could only bite their tongues and resign themselves to Blake's decision. When faced with a man who could kill a Holy Grace Knight with a single blow, it was better to be cautious than sorry.
Blake paid no heed to the mercenaries' silent grievances. He waited for Jody and the others to finish cleaning up the battlefield, then ordered the group to resume their journey, heading deeper into the heart of the mountains.
The air around them began to change.
It was not just the shift in temperature and altitude that caused the change. As they followed the mountain path into a narrow ravine halfway up the slope, they suddenly felt the air grow heavy and dense, as if they were wading through an invisible, viscous substance. Even the chirping of birds and the rustling of leaves that had accompanied them through the forest fell silent. The towering, pitch-black rock walls on either side of them loomed like an impenetrable barrier, separating this place from the rest of the world and casting it into an otherworldly silence.
The concentration of Mana in the air grew stronger with every step they took.
Which meant they were drawing closer and closer to their destination.
"My lord... Where exactly are we going?"
The old mercenary glanced at his men, then approached Blake with a look of unease on his face.
"Something doesn't feel right here. We—"
"Don't worry, it won't take much longer," Blake interrupted, waving a hand dismissively before the old man could finish his sentence.
"Besides, the battles ahead are far too dangerous for you to get involved in. You have nothing to fear."
The old mercenary let out a bitter chuckle. If you don't need our help, then why are we still here? He had been asking himself that question ever since Blake had first agreed to let them tag along. He refused to believe that the young noble lord had taken them in simply because they had experience navigating the forest. If they had been of any use to him in the past few days, their usefulness was now at an end. Against the high-Tier creatures that lurked in these mountains, a group of low-Tier swordsmen like them would not last a single round. The black-armored warriors had long since taken over the job of scouting the path ahead; the only tasks left for the mercenaries were menial chores like setting up camp and gathering firewood. The old mercenary did not believe for a second that Blake would keep them around just to do housework. From every angle, they were nothing but dead weight—and in a place as dangerous as this, dead weight meant danger.
What's more, the young noble lord was clearly not the kind of man who did favors out of the goodness of his heart. His confrontation with the Holy Grace Church had made that abundantly clear. He was ruthless, decisive, and utterly unyielding—if anything, his decision to spare the Priest's life seemed out of character. But the mere fact that he had dared to kill Holy Grace Knights was proof enough that he was not someone to be trifled with.
So what was his reason for keeping them around?
"Is Captain Claude doing well?"
Just as the old mercenary was lost in thought, Blake suddenly turned to him and asked a question that caught him completely off guard. The old man blinked in surprise before answering.
"Captain Claude? He... He died of the plague fifty years ago, my lord."
"...And Vice Captain Sophia?"
"She... She perished in the Red Leaf Rebellion forty-five years ago."
"...What about Cassius, then?"
"Lord Cassius is still alive, my lord!"
Finally, the old mercenary was able to name someone who was still breathing.
"He is currently the Chairman of the Azure Feather Council and the Captain of the Azure Feather Mercenaries... He is ninety years old now."
As he spoke, the old mercenary stared at Blake with a mixture of curiosity and astonishment. The young lord looked no older than twenty—how could he possibly have heard of men who had been leading the mercenary band decades ago? The three men he had mentioned had been the leaders of the Azure Feather Mercenaries in the old days. All of them except Cassius had been dead for years; only veteran mercenaries like himself still remembered their names. The young noble lord was not a member of the Azure Feather Mercenaries—so how did he know about them?
"Cassius is still alive," Blake repeated, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
Truly a born survivor. No wonder he has lived to such an old age. It seems that even the shadow of death finds it hard to catch him.
"My lord... Do you know Lord Cassius?"
The old mercenary hesitated for a moment, then asked the question that had been burning on his mind, even though he already knew the answer was no.
"You could say that," Blake replied, shrugging his shoulders and avoiding giving a direct answer. Instead, he posed another question.
"The current headquarters of the Azure Feather Mercenaries is located in..."
"The City of Life, Kelthas."
"I see," Blake said, nodding thoughtfully at the old man's answer. He paused for a moment, then spoke again.
"There is something I would like to ask of you."
"Please speak, my lord! We are at your service!"
The old mercenary bowed his head respectfully, leaning forward to listen intently. He knew that this might be their only chance to survive.
"After you leave the Duskwood, I want you to go back and tell Cassius to come see me. Just tell him that a man named Blake is waiting for him in the Duskwood. I'm sure he'll know what you mean."
"I hear you, honored sir! I will deliver your message to Lord Cassius exactly as you have said!"
Satisfied with the old mercenary's promise, Blake smiled faintly. He said nothing more, turning on his heel and walking toward the rear of the group, where the young Priestess was being escorted by two spectral warriors. She walked with her head bowed, her face ashen and her breath coming in short, ragged gasps. Although the shadow of death had lifted for now, the sight of the brutal massacre she had witnessed was clearly too much for a young girl like her to bear.
"You seem to be feeling a bit nervous," Blake said, his voice cutting through her thoughts. The girl jumped in surprise, then quickly lifted her head and stared at him with wide, frightened eyes.
"I-I... I'm fine..."
"Please, don't be so tense, Priestess," Blake said, smiling warmly at her pale face. He held out a waterskin to her.
"Have some water. It will help you relax. We won't hurt you—we won't take your life. You have no reason to be afraid."
The girl stared at him, still half-convinced that this was a trick. But she took the waterskin anyway and drank deeply from it. The cool, clear spring water soothed her parched throat, and she felt her trembling subside slightly. When she looked up at Blake again, the terror in her eyes had faded a little.
"It seems you've calmed down. Good," Blake said, nodding approvingly at the change in her expression. He then asked, "May I have the honor of knowing your name?"
"My name is Winnie... I am a Temple Priestess of the Holy Grace Church."
Her voice was still shaky, but she was able to answer his question in a steady, composed manner.
"A Temple Priestess of the Holy Grace Church?" Blake repeated, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Then tell me—why have you come to the Duskwood?"
"I-I came here on the Archbishop's orders," Winnie replied, her hands clutching tightly at her bloodstained robes as she stared at the ground.
"The Archbishop said that the Temple was sending a scouting party to investigate the unusual activity in the Duskwood. I was selected to join the group... That's all, I swear!"
The Church certainly moved fast, Blake thought to himself. It was no surprise, really. Their temples were everywhere. The rumors of strange creatures appearing in the villages of the Zachary family's territory must have aroused the Church's suspicions, prompting them to send a scouting party under the pretense of investigating the disturbances—all while secretly searching for the Mana source.
"I see, miss," Blake said, nodding slowly as he pieced together the truth.
"I understand why you're here now. But that does not change the fact that you are trespassers. As members of the Holy Grace Church, you entered my domain without first notifying me, the rightful Lord of the Duskwood, and proceeded to conduct your search and investigation without my permission. That is a grave offense—one that cannot be overlooked."
"B-But I didn't know! I swear I didn't!" Winnie looked up at him in terror, her hands clutching at the hem of her robes as she pleaded for mercy.
"I truly had no idea! Lord Dieder told us that the Temple does not need to answer to any lord—we only need to report our movements to the Archbishop!"
"I believe you had no part in this, miss," Blake interrupted, cutting off her desperate explanation. His smile remained gentle and reassuring.
"But please, rest assured—I will say this once more. The battle is over. I will not harm you. I swear it on my honor. You have my word as a lord."
"Thank you... Thank you, honored sir," Winnie said, visibly relaxing at his words. She even managed a weak, trembling smile. But Blake merely bowed to her in an elegant, courtly manner before turning and walking back to join the mercenaries.
"Gentlemen, I think this is as far as you go," he said, holding up a hand to stop them as they prepared to follow him further into the mountains.
"I must be honest with you—the battles ahead will be extremely dangerous. With your current level of strength, it will be all you can do to protect yourselves, let alone help us. So I ask you to stay here and wait for us until the fighting is over. I'm sure you understand what you need to do, yes?"
"Of course, my lord!" the old mercenary replied quickly, stepping forward and bowing deeply.
"We will stay here as you have ordered and await your triumphant return!"
What else could they do? Disobey him? Without Blake's protection, a group of low-Tier swordsmen like them would not last a single day in these mountains. So despite their misgivings, the mercenaries had no choice but to comply with his orders.
As for the old mercenary, his attitude toward Blake had undergone a complete transformation after their earlier conversation. Anyone who could casually name the former leaders of the Azure Feather Mercenaries was no ordinary man. With his immense power, he had no reason to lie about such trivial matters or waste his time trying to deceive a group of lowly mercenaries. Which meant that the young noble lord must have some kind of connection to the Azure Feather Mercenaries—perhaps even to Lord Cassius himself. With that realization, the old mercenary wasted no time in ordering his men to set up camp and rest for the duration of Blake's absence.
Satisfied with their compliance, Blake turned and continued his journey, leading the spectral warriors deeper into the mountains. But this time, he took the young Priestess with him.
"I will need your help in the battles ahead, miss," he said, treating her not like a prisoner, but like an honored guest he had personally invited.
"I hope you will lend me your strength... Will you help me?"
"Y-Yes, of course! I will do everything in my power to help you, honored sir!"
Although Winnie still felt a lingering sense of anxiety about her fate, she had no choice but to agree to his request. Blake smiled meaningfully at her answer before turning and leading the spectral warriors onward, into the heart of the mountains.
The light grew dimmer with every step they took, until the thick, suffocating darkness became the only thing that surrounded them. But when they rounded a sharp bend in the path, Blake suddenly came to a halt. He stared at the three pitch-black, bottomless caves that lay before them, his eyes narrowing to slits. He stretched out his fingers, then curled them into a fist, his hand resting on the hilt of the sword at his waist.
"Priestess Winnie, would you be so kind as to step forward and cast a Light spell for us?" he said, his voice cutting through the oppressive silence.
"It's far too dark here for us to see anything clearly."
"O-Of course! Right away!" Winnie replied without hesitation. She walked a few steps forward until she stood just ahead of Blake, then closed her eyes and began to chant softly under her breath. A moment later, a bright, pure white light erupted from her palms, dispelling the thick darkness that surrounded them.
At that exact moment, Blake took two deliberate steps backward, as if by pure coincidence.
And then—
A shadow moved.
No sooner had the light exploded into existence than a massive, pitch-black serpent's head emerged from one of the caves. It opened its gaping maw and lunged forward, its jaws clamping down tightly on Winnie's upper body in a single, brutal motion.
Caught completely off guard by the sudden attack, Winnie had no time to react. She did not even have time to scream before she was swallowed whole by the giant serpent. Her long, slender legs, the only part of her body left outside the serpent's mouth, twitched reflexively for a few moments before going limp—her final, futile act of resistance. Her body dangled from the serpent's jaws like a broken doll, and a stream of yellow, foul-smelling liquid dripped from between her legs, splattering onto the ground as her limbs twitched spasmodically. Then the serpent tilted its head back and let out a low, rumbling gulp, and Winnie's body vanished completely, swallowed without a trace.
Throughout the entire ordeal, Blake stood motionless, his gaze fixed on the stone wall beside him as if he were studying some incomprehensible puzzle. It was not until Winnie's body had disappeared down the serpent's throat that Jody walked over to him and cleared her throat softly.
"You seem to have let your mind wander, my lord."
"Oh?" Blake blinked, as if suddenly snapping out of a trance. He tore his gaze away from the stone wall and fixed it on the giant serpent before him, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly.
"How careless of me. To let my attention wander in the middle of a potential battle... Poor Miss Winnie... What a bloody lesson this has been."
As he spoke, the pitch-black sword reappeared in his hand, shimmering with a faint, ghostly light.
"Well then, everyone," he said, flipping the sword in his hand and pointing the blade directly at the serpent.
"Now that our dear Priestess—what was her name again? Never mind—now that she has sacrificed herself to draw out this pesky creature, we cannot let her death be in vain."
He lowered his arm, the tip of his sword glinting menacingly in the dim light.
"Attack!"