Despite knowing that Dunmel was out for his life, Ruskin showed no intention of fighting. Instead, he smiled. It wasn’t a forced expression made to catch his opponent off guard. It was as relaxed as when he had offered tea upon Dunmel’s secret intrusion.
“Do you remember, Dunmel Wolf? The words I asked you to pretend you hadn’t heard.”
Ruskin said as he walked along the circular corridor surrounding the White Mystery. Dunmel kept an angle where he could see Ruskin’s mouth as he stepped sideways, matching his approach. With a jewel as tall as a person between them, they circled around in the narrow room. An invisible tension pulled tight.
“If the White Mystery breaks, consider me dead… That’s what I said.”
Ruskin slightly turned his eyeballs to place his gaze somewhere far behind Dunmel, then fixed it back on the tip of Dunmel’s dagger.
Dunmel felt something big approaching the moment Ruskin’s gaze shifted outward. The initially slight vibration grew stronger, causing the glass walls to shake, followed by the tower itself. However, Dunmel couldn’t afford to look back with Ruskin’s staff in front.
‘A moment’s distraction could be fatal.’
Dunmel assumed Ruskin’s staff was a bow with an arrow placed on its string.
“I am dead from this moment forward. If… I survive this room, let everyone know. And if I survive the Mozes, tell Queen Sanadiel. Grand Master Ruskin died with Lutia.”
Ruskin swung his staff. A writhing red energy, like flames, shattered everything within the curve of his swing. Glass walls shattered, pouring down on Dunmel who had ducked. Ruskin’s target wasn’t Dunmel but the White Mystery. The walls broke from the impact of the White Mystery shattering.
Dunmel pressed himself completely to the floor, bowing his head. Sharp fragments of the jewel pierced his back and the arms shielding his head. At the same time, the massive entity that had been approaching struck the remaining part of the glass wall from outside. The thick glass of the ceiling came crashing down.
Dunmel rolled sideways towards an exit leading downstairs, launching himself just before falling. The last thing he saw before the fall was a gigantic eagle’s talon, magnified a hundred times, though it was not a bird.
Dunmel almost tumbled down the stairs. At the same time, a red flame chased him from above, splitting into dozens of strands in the center of the room. Dunmel didn’t have the leisure to run to the entrance and threw himself out the window. A wide stream of fire pushed him out of the tower, sticking out a red tongue.
Dunmel reached out to grasp the window sill, hanging in the air. Below, broken glass shards fell endlessly to the distant ground. The hot air escaping from inside scorched the back of his hands.
Dunmel did not try to re-enter the room but instead looked up while hanging from the window. Giant black wings enveloped the broken the White Mystery. These were not the feathers of a bird but the membranous wings of a bat. The beast flapped its wings, ascending back into the sky. A strong wind shook Dunmel, who was still hanging.
Yet, Dunmel did not enter the room but looked up at the giant beast from below.
It was a dragon, covered in black scales, twice the size of a Carnelock dragon. And atop it was Ruskin, clad in a black robe.
Dunmel hung onto the window frame until the dragon became a black dot in his sight. When he re-entered the room, everything in sight was on fire. Especially towards the exit, the flames were too fierce. And those flames were certainly burning the external stairs. Thinking of going back out, Dunmel suddenly remembered Ruskin’s words about a room downstairs with portraits of past Grand Masters. Luckily, a ladder leading down was easily visible.
The lower room was yet unaffected by the fire. Portraits of sorcerers were hung all around the circular room. He hurried out the door then stopped.
Naturally, Dunmel had never seen the faces of Lutia’s masters. He had neither seen nor heard of any Grand Masters before.
But there was one familiar face. It was more shocking than learning Ruskin had dropped Dethain from the tower.
‘That person was a Grand Master of Lutia? Impossible!’
There was no time to think about it now. The gap caused by his absence was likely accelerating the Mozes’ invasion.
Dunmel hastily took down that portrait, throwing it into a room untouched by the fire, intending to ask someone later.
‘It will be useless if this place burns down. But I don’t have time to take it with me now.’
Dunmel checked the situation each time he passed a window while descending the stairs. A considerable number of Mozes had pushed up to the front of Kainswick. Going down this way meant facing the Mozes head-on. And in the chaos, he had lost track of Loyal and Jaymer’s positions.
‘I’ll enter from the back.’
Dunmel leaped from a window on the opposite side of Kainswick. It was a three-story drop, but he lightly landed, rolling several times before getting up. He intended to join the other soldiers inside Kainswick immediately, but Dunmel stopped.
A knight in a black robe, riding a black-furred Venon, stood in the place he had landed to avoid the Mozes. The tip of his spear was already stained with red blood.
‘Of all the luck.’
Dunmel, his legs still trembling from running down the stairs, assumed a fighting stance without a moment’s rest. The black knight did not wait and thrust his spear at Dunmel, who tilted his head to dodge and immediately stepped back. Normally, he would have counterattacked right after dodging, but his tired legs refused to cooperate.
Noticing this, the black knight did not give Dunmel a chance to rest and continued to attack fiercely. Riding a faster-than-horse Venon, escape was not an option. The black knight, as if one with the Venon, wielded his spear with swift precision. Dunmel blocked the spear coming over his head, but ultimately, he couldn’t hold on and collapsed on the spot.
The heavy tip of the spear flew toward Dunmel’s chest. He twisted his body with all his might, and the spear grazed his chest and embedded itself in the ground. Dunmel threw his dagger with the last of his strength, but it was caught by the black knight’s hand. The throw lacked power. And now, he had no strength left to dodge.
The black knight tossed the dagger aside and raised his spear for another strike.
At that moment, an arrow struck the black knight’s helmet. Unable to thrust his spear, the knight staggered backward. Then, arrows hit his shoulder, neck, chest, and finally, the forehead of the Venon, penetrating with such force that each arrow made the knight and his mount recoil, ending with them hitting a wall.
Dunmel picked up his dagger from the ground and confirmed the black knight’s death. Blood flowed down the armor where the arrows were embedded, and the robe was soaked with blood. But if this was a knight of Camort risen from the dead, such wounds would not kill him.
Dunmel cautiously approached and placed his hand under the helmet, touching the knight’s neck.
Dead.
This was neither the ghost of Kagua from the Sky Mountains whom the people of Lutia feared nor a resurrected ghost knight. He was a human and did not move, even with an arrow lodged in his head.
Dunmel looked toward where the arrow had come from. It was Flora, who was supposed to be moving the villagers to the northern forest and not be here. Her body was covered in wounds. A gash in her thigh was visible through the torn clothes, large enough to leave a lasting scar, and her face bore a long, deep cut that would certainly scar. With her bloodied hand pressing above her left eye, only her right eye blinked continuously.
“Our strategy has been completely exposed.”
Dunmel squeezed his eyes shut and then opened them. How could he explain this? The traitor of Lutia was the Grand Master, and the strategy hadn’t just been exposed; the person who devised the strategy was the traitor…
“So I had to come back. All the villagers have been evacuated inside the tower, so now we must fight and defend it. The remaining forces are gathering in front of Kainswick. That’s where our last battle will be.”
Flora said, exhaustion evident in her face, but her unwavering resolve was clear even with one eye open.
Dunmel looked down at the dead knight and flung off the black robe. The blood flowing from the arrow that had penetrated the helmet to the back of the head did not stop. It was curious how, despite the different atmosphere and presence, they felt similar to the knights of Camort.
He was a knight of Excelon.
Not just resembling an Excelon Knight, but an actual knight of Excelon.
☆ ☆ ☆
Jaymer had told him about Sheyden fighting a resurrected captain of the Excelon Knights, Welch, in front of the White Gate. Though he rambled, he emphasized the phrase “resurrected from death.” However, the entity lying dead before him was not one resurrected from death. He was a real human, and this was undoubtedly the armor of Excelon Knights.
Loyal approached, a wound stretching from the right end of his shoulder to the left end of his chest. Flora ran to him and applied her hand to his wound, using magic to stop the bleeding.
“Did you kill him?”
Dunmel shook his head and pointed at Flora.
‘Flora killed him.’
“Is that so?”
Loyal continued indifferently.
“I killed one too. Now there’s only one left.”
Loyal said.
‘It’s Excelon. Did you check?’
Loyal nodded to Dunmel’s sign language.
“How could this happen…?”
Loyal started to say but then swiftly turned around. Dunmel also stood up abruptly. Then, both drew their swords at once.
Another black knight appeared on a Venon in front of the three. Flora stood behind the two men, raising her hand. An arrow embedded in the wall lifted at her gesture.
The black knight said something.
“He’s asking who you are. I’ll answer for you.”
Flora stood next to Dunmel and shouted.
“They are the Wolf Knights from Aranthia!”
The black knight spoke again.
“He’s surprised that you killed two of his men.”
Jaymer quietly stepped out from the left of the black knight. Blood dripped from his wet sleeve, not just running blood but hiding a serious injury underneath. Seems he still didn’t know how to dodge.
“It seems like those guys have been picking off your comrades one by one, so you’re mine to handle. Get off that ugly horse! It’s pathetic.”
Flora relayed the black knight’s words to Jaymer.
“The knight is laughing at Jaymer’s words. Oh, he’s really getting down? His name is Nathan, he says. From Excelon… First Knight Division. Is there such a thing? I heard Excelon of Lontamon isn’t that powerful these days. Why would he be in the Sky Mountains like this…”
Flora asked, but in truth, these were the questions Dunmel wanted to ask. What was the First Knight Division, and why were they here? However, what was clear was that this Nathan was not another being merely resembling the knights of Camort in the appearance of their armor but a real, living knight of Excelon.
Nathan, the Excelon Knight, said something, and Jaymer countered.
“Ha! Never lost before? Well, you’re about to lose now. And you know what? That captain Welch, whom you guys worship like a god, also lost to one of those White Wolves standing over there. So, you better be nervous. I mean, you, specifically, should be nervous!”
However, Jaymer’s expression soured at Nathan’s reply. Flora, having briefly distracted by the exchange, explained to Dunmel a bit late.
“Welch was merely a leader of criminals, and the ‘real captain’ is someone he serves? Moreover, Welch was someone he defeated when he was younger, so he’s not much interested… I don’t really understand what all that means.”
Just the fragmented story told by the knight named Nathan was enough to dizzy Dunmel. It was the same as with Ruskin. Whether this black knight was originally from Excelon, whether the captain he served was Welch or not, that wasn’t what mattered. What mattered was why the Excelon Knights were attacking Lutia.
Before Dunmel could say anything, Jaymer attacked Nathan. Nathan parried Jaymer’s surprise attack with his long spear, deflecting it to the side and lifting Jaymer into the air with the handle of his spear. Jaymer’s body paused in the air like a kicked-up leaf. The next moment, Nathan’s spear tip precisely attempted to pierce his heart.
It was a single attack, too accurate and too powerful. Had Dunmel been even a moment later with his dagger, Jaymer would have been skewered on the spear like a kebab.
Nathan managed to deflect Dunmel’s dagger with his spear instead of stabbing Jaymer. Jaymer ended up hitting his head on the ground.
Nathan slightly turned his head to look towards Dunmel. Loyal stepped forward from behind, but Dunmel shook his head.
‘I’ll do it.’
It was better for a weary him to step forward than an injured Loyal. Without needing sign language, Loyal understood. Dunmel picked up a spear from the ground.
Dunmel corrected his stance to stand in front of the fallen Jaymer. Standing five steps away, that man silently pointed his spear at Dunmel.
Hidden within the black robe, Dunmel knew this man was the black knight they had first fought upon crossing over with the Mozes. He was the one who had stabbed Luder in the shoulder, commanded the Mozes to topple the crosses binding the hostages, and led the two dead black knights. And he was strong.
‘I’m going to die here. If only I could kill him and then die.’
It seemed only luck would allow that. Loyal stood by Dunmel’s right, holding his sword firmly despite being beyond his limit for enduring blood loss. Jaymer, thought to be unconscious, also stood up, holding a sword in each hand.
All three, without a word, glared at Nathan. To Dunmel, it was an astonishing sight. Though wounded, two knights known as White Wolves and a swordsman of their equal surrounded him, yet he felt no advantage.
Nathan slowly lifted his spear.
A vibration, like the beating of drums, was felt from somewhere. It was from the western rocks of Lutia. Something fast was leaping down the rocks. Initially, about twenty, the number crawling out of the rock crevices increased until over a hundred reached the eastern end of Nonsearch.
They charged straight towards the tower. A pack of Venons with grey fur, and atop them rode beings that were not human.
If the entities charging at the tower were enemies, then regardless of the outcome of his fight with Nathan, Lutia would be doomed.
‘Would Dethain have said that the moment the White Mystery breaks, Lutia would no longer be Lutia? No, he would have said the people hiding in the tower are Lutia. He loved Lutia more than anyone.’
Dunmel swung the spear over his head and thrust it at Nathan. At the same time, Nathan thrust his spear at Dunmel.
‘Azwin, Gerald, Kassel… Are you all safe? I hope we can all safely meet again.’
The two spears crossed in midair.
‘I hope to see us all laughing together again. And just once, I want to tell everyone out loud. I really like you all. Then, even if I can’t speak again, just once, I’d like to say it. Just once…’
–TL Notes–
Hope you enjoyed this chapter. If you want to support me or give me feedback, you can do it at patreon.com/MattReading
Join my Discord! https://discord.gg/jB26ePk9