In the mountain valley straddling the border between the Kingdom of Wester and the Kingdom of Orlt, there loomed a majestic fortress—known as the Red Citadel for being constructed entirely from red rock. As one of Wester's mightiest fortifications, it had guarded the kingdom's frontier since its completion. Of course, ever since the alliance treaty was signed with Orlt, this imposing structure had largely lost its original purpose. Over the past few decades, its once-spacious inner courtyards had been taken over by merchants and their stalls. Though the Red Citadel still retained some border defense functions, a casual glance at its densely packed shops would easily mistake it for a commercial city rather than a military fortress.
But now, those shops had been completely dismantled, revealing the citadel's true martial visage. Construction materials were being hauled into the fortress at breakneck speed for reinforcement and expansion. On the fully cleared square inside the citadel, companies of soldiers drilled relentlessly, their synchronized shouts cutting through the howling wind and torrential rain—neither storm nor darkness could halt their training.
A tense atmosphere of impending war had thoroughly permeated every corner of the fortress.
Inside the citadel's austere meeting room, Celt, commander of the Shield of Protection—one of the kingdom's three elite legions—frowned deeply as he stared at the report in his hands. The old man's solemn, grave expression cast a heavy pall over the entire room. Ever since receiving the king's order to lead the Shield of Protection to the Red Citadel, Celt had sealed off the border. He knew that with Orlt's fall, countless refugees would attempt to flee into Wester, and he had indeed let several groups pass through. But as the deadline for the ceasefire treaty drew near, Celt had been forced to harden his heart and close the entire border, barring all refugee entry. After all, he was well aware that once Orlt was conquered, Wester would be the next target of the Sith Empire. The Sith would never be foolish enough to wait until the battlefield to gather intelligence; laying the groundwork beforehand was crucial. In fact, Celt had taken advantage of the refugee wave to plant a few spies in Sith territory, hoping to gauge the enemy's strength. He was certain that Sith spies had also slipped into Wester amid the earlier refugee movements. But that did not concern him—Celt had anticipated this. His strategy was simple: as long as he held firm control over the border region, any intelligence the enemy gathered would be useless if they could not transmit it back.
Until now, Celt's tactics had yielded results. He had captured many spies dispatched by the Sith and seized their intelligence. But today, Celt suddenly realized that he might have encountered a far more formidable adversary.
Just moments ago, Celt had received word that the Fifteenth Patrol Squad, tasked with patrolling the western side of the valley, had gone missing. Before he could even send reinforcements to investigate, another message arrived: the Twenty-Fourth Patrol Squad, responsible for the southwestern valley, had also ceased all communication. This immediately put Celt on high alert.
He knew full well that the Fifteenth and Twenty-Fourth Patrol Squads were elite units of the Shield of Protection, tasked with patrolling the outer perimeter of the border. Yet now, they had vanished without a trace—not a single distress signal, not a single survivor. It was almost unimaginable. But it had undeniably happened.
What on earth was going on?
A seasoned legion commander who had fought countless battles in his life, Celt found himself bewildered by this bizarre turn of events. His first thought was that the Sith Empire had launched an attack. But experience told him this made little sense. Right now, the Sith should be fully occupied with conquering Orlt and suppressing any potential uprisings or rebellions within its borders. Celt kept a close eye on Sith movements, and the empire's goals were crystal clear: territorial expansion. To achieve that, they needed stable lands and populations. Furthermore, the series of policies the Sith had implemented in Orlt in recent days had indeed succeeded in pacifying the people—the most obvious sign being that the number of refugees fleeing to the Red Citadel had decreased dramatically. After all, while their country had been destroyed, most people were willing to stay in their hometowns as long as their land and lives were not threatened.
It was precisely this attitude from the Sith that filled Celt with unease. If the Sith were merely after plundering resources and seizing land, Celt might have retained some hope that the empire would eventually be defeated—for evil deeds would always meet their reckoning. If the Sith had shown cruelty and ruthlessness, even if Wester were ultimately conquered, Celt and his men would have been confident in rising up again to fight another day.
But now, it was clear that the Sith intended to slowly consolidate their control over these conquered lands and peoples. The intelligence Celt had received from inside Orlt only deepened this anxiety. While there were still some uprisings and rebellions in Orlt, reports indicated that these were mostly led by civilians who had lost their land and loved ones in the war, as well as former Orlt military commanders. In other occupied territories, there was almost no sign of spontaneous resistance from the people. This report weighed heavily on Celt's heart. If the Sith had already fully subjugated these lands, the people might have been unable to resist due to harsh oppression. But the war was far from over—so why had the people abandoned resistance? The answer was simple: the Sith Empire had not harmed their interests.
This was something unheard of in any ordinary war. After all, warfare only grew more difficult as it dragged on. For a small country like the Sith to invade and occupy foreign lands meant extending their borders, which in turn required more supplies and troops. Where would these resources and manpower come from? They would have to be squeezed from the occupied territories, of course. Otherwise, relying solely on the Sith's own small landmass to supply their expeditionary forces would have sparked domestic uprisings long before any rebellions in the occupied lands could even begin.
But—yet—somehow—the Sith Empire possessed four **Natural Knights**!
For Natural Knights, victory was never determined by the size of their armies! Among the Sith's four Natural Knights, Guardian Knight Nahias commanded the largest force, with 150,000 soldiers. The remaining three Natural Knights led surprisingly small armies: Wind Messenger Karan's troops hovered around 20,000, Puppeteer Sidvi controlled at most 50,000 soldiers, and the Silver Princess Lindilot was even more extreme—ever since she set out on her campaign, her "Silver Sword Legion" had never numbered more than 30,000. In other words, the combined strength of the Sith Empire's three main expeditionary forces was not even equal to that of Nahias alone. Of course, each of these commanders had subordinate legions, but in reality, these subordinates were mostly responsible for reconnaissance in the early stages of war and occupation and defense in the later stages. They played no role whatsoever in the mid-war confrontations.
This meant that, for the most part, Orlt's hundreds of thousands of troops were pitted against mere tens of thousands of Sith soldiers! Yet even so, Orlt's forces had been utterly routed. Even the City of Eternal Night had been completely sacked by Sidvi's outnumbered army. One must remember that the city had been defended by 100,000 soldiers, bolstered by the power of the Mana Spring—and yet they had been crushed by a single Natural Knight. That fact alone spoke volumes.
A mere 100,000 soldiers had conquered the entire Kingdom of Orlt, with total casualties not exceeding 20,000. This terrifying ratio was beyond the comprehension of any military commander. And it was precisely this that had allowed the Sith Empire to avoid the greatest Achilles' heel of any conquering war: the problem of logistical supply. From the start of the war with Orlt until now, the Sith Empire's logistical supply lines had remained remarkably stable, with no significant increase in demand. What's more, the acquisition of new territories had actually brought them additional revenue—after all, war meant death, and the dead required no supplies. Through deliberate planning, the Sith Empire had all but annihilated Orlt's military might. As a result, local territories no longer needed to spend exorbitant resources maintaining their own armies, leaving them with surplus funds. While these surpluses were still minimal given that the war had just ended, if the Sith Empire could maintain this momentum, it would develop into a virtuous cycle—and their national power would grow even stronger.
This was a boon for the Sith Empire, but a nightmare for all other nations.
It was precisely for this reason that Celt did not believe the Sith Empire would launch an attack at this juncture. Furthermore, if they had intended to wage war, there was no need for such underhanded tactics. What was the point of eliminating these patrol squads? War relied on surprise and stealth—deliberately wiping out patrol teams was tantamount to announcing one's presence to the enemy. Who exactly was behind this, and why were they doing it?
Spies? Were there spies trying to escape Wester?
Celt shook his head, dismissing the idea. If the enemy possessed the strength to annihilate these patrol squads completely, they could have easily slipped past his defenses unnoticed. Moreover, while it was possible that the Fifteenth Patrol Squad had stumbled upon the enemy and engaged them in battle, the subsequent disappearance of the Twenty-Fourth Squad made no sense at all. Celt himself had designed the patrol routes, and he knew that if the attackers were indeed spies, they would never have gone out of their way to ambush the Twenty-Fourth Squad after eliminating the Fifteenth—it would have been a completely unnecessary detour. Spies were intelligence operatives; time was their lifeblood. Once they had breached the defensive perimeter, their priority should have been to retreat immediately, not to venture deeper into enemy territory.
That left only one possibility.
The Sith Empire clearly did not intend to let him build up his defenses in peace. They had sent forces to harass and delay his preparations while sowing chaos and confusion. Their attacks on the Fifteenth and Twenty-Fourth Patrol Squads were aimed precisely at this goal.
Having reached this conclusion, Celt frowned and let out a cold snort. He was confident that the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse—the Sith's four Natural Knights—would not make an appearance. Which meant that the forces responsible for eliminating his patrol squads must be elite Sith units. If he could capture them, it would be an excellent start to the coming war.
"Send someone to me!"
The old legion commander's voice boomed through the room. Moments later, a young officer with a pale, anxious face pushed open the door, strode into the room, and saluted the old commander solemnly.
"Dispatch the Fourth Sub-Legion to the western valley at once. Conduct a thorough, carpet-style search using crisscross patrol patterns! Remember: report any unusual activity to me immediately!"
"Yes, sir!"
The young officer snapped to attention and saluted the old commander. But instead of departing immediately, he hesitated, a look of confusion and distress crossing his face.
"Actually, Commander… there's something else I need to report."
"What is it?"
"Well… two minutes ago, we received word that the Sixth Patrol Squad, tasked with guarding the eastern side of the valley, has also gone silent… it is highly likely that they have been completely annihilated."
"Eastern side? The Sixth Patrol Squad?"
Celt's brows furrowed, his expression growing even more grim.
"…Are you certain no other squads have reported any anomalies?"
"No, sir. I have contacted all patrol squads deployed in the field as per your orders. Only the Sixth Squad has failed to respond. Therefore, I believe it is very likely that they have…"
"First the west, now the east?"
Celt gritted his teeth, anger flaring within him.
Did the Sith Empire really think they could bully him so easily?
The rain continued to pour.
The downpour lashed at the trees in the valley, their leaves rustling loudly as water pooled into streams on the ground. The bloodstains scattered across the earth faded further under the relentless wash of the rain.
Blake casually flicked the blood from his sword blade, then turned to glance at the dozen or so bodies lying not far behind him. The corpses were clad in the armor of the Kingdom of Wester, their faces frozen in expressions of terror and confusion. Their weapons had not even been drawn from their scabbards before their owners had fallen victim to the shadow of death.
Everything had gone perfectly.
"Brother, is it over?"
As the question rang out, Messiah emerged from the trees astride her unicorn. She cast a calm glance over the bodies on the ground, then turned her gaze to Blake.
"It's over. Three squads. If the garrison commander here is not an idiot, he should be able to see through this ruse by now. Now, it all depends on whether this legion commander is hot-tempered or level-headed."
Blake replied casually to Messiah's question, then gripped his sword and waved it in a fluid motion. A low whinny echoed through the air as a wispy, shadowy aura began to coalesce. Soon, the Lord of Darkness—or rather, Esti—materialized beside Blake.
The creature had changed considerably since Blake had tamed it. Having absorbed Blake's soul power and healed its wounds, this strange spectral being had finally revealed its true form. To say its appearance was odd would be an understatement. On the surface, it looked no different from a horse—but protruding from its sides were a pair of faint, wispy appendages that resembled wings. Blake had initially thought the creature could fly, but it turned out that Esti had no such ability—it did not even know why it possessed these wings. Of course, these were not truly complete wings; like their master, they existed as little more than faint shadows, barely visible as a vague outline when spread, and completely undetectable when pressed against its body.
Now, Esti was also equipped with a set of horse tack, forged by Blake using his soul power. After all, he needed a mount—and without tack to control it, it would prove rather inconvenient in future battles. The once-feral Lord of Darkness now stood quietly and docilely before Blake, waiting patiently for its master.
Just as Blake swung his leg over Esti's back, a sharp birdcall suddenly pierced the air. Blake frowned slightly, exchanged a glance with Messiah, and the two of them immediately wheeled their mounts around and vanished into the depths of the forest.
In truth, with Blake and the sisters' strength, crossing the border undetected after taming the Lord of Darkness would have been child's play. But Blake had never intended to leave without leaving a message. Hence, he had deliberately turned back to leave this little "gift."
So, while Commander Celt was ordering his troops to seal off the area and launch an investigation, Blake and Messiah had already crossed the border with ease, arriving on the other side of the valley—territory that had once belonged to Orlt but now fell under the Sith Empire's control.
"Father!"
Seeing Blake and Messiah appear, Semira broke into a bright, innocent smile. She waved a hand, then made a gesture pointing to the right. There, a company of soldiers clad in Sith Empire armor marched solemnly along the road, weapons in hand, their eyes scanning their surroundings vigilantly as they advanced slowly.
"It seems neither side is taking it easy."
Blake raised an eyebrow as he observed the scene before him.
"I would have thought that in such a heavy downpour, they would at least be holed up in their barracks twiddling their thumbs. But it appears both sides are maintaining their vigilance. It looks like this upcoming war is going to be quite exhilarating, ladies."
"What do we do now, brother?"
"Shall we kill them, father?"
At these words, excited smiles spread across the sisters' faces—like children who had just been given a fascinating new toy. They raised their parasols in unison and asked in chorus.
"Absolutely."
Blake paused for a moment to consider, then nodded decisively.
"As the saying goes: courtesy demands reciprocity. Since the Kingdom of Wester has lost three patrol squads, for the sake of fairness… the soldiers of the Sith Empire shall not be spared either."
With that, Blake placed his hand on the hilt of his sword at his waist. In response, Esti slowly lowered its body, assuming a charging stance.
"Begin the operation."