Rain hammered down from the gray sky, spilling over the thick canopy. A single drop slid from leaf to leaf until it struck cold metal with a soft plink.
The metallic surface—no, the knight clad in dented green armour—desperately covered his mouth and nose and tried to crawl backwards through the muddy ground. Blood poured from the stump where his left leg had been severed, mixing with the rainwater in a dark, slippery trail. His exposed, half-broken knee bone jutted out grotesquely.
The knight glanced at his trembling leg in extreme pain, then slowly looked up.
The knight's eyes locked onto a towering horror. Seven feet tall, pale, and humanoid, its blade-like hands dripped with his blood. Cold blue eyes glinted with hunger and twisted satisfaction. It had no face—only smooth skin and a pulsing torso that split open like a blooming flower, revealing rows of jagged teeth inside and out. His half-eaten leg hung there, wet and mangled, still caught in its grotesque, red maw.
It stepped forward, slow and deliberate, each footfall squelching in the mud. It wasn't rushing. It wanted to enjoy this—to watch him squirm, soaked in pain and panic.
Within seconds, the creature closed the distance. The knight, still clutching his mouth and nose, trembled as tears mixed with the rain slid down his face onto his shaking hands.
The monster lowered himself to devour the injured knight's head with his torso-like maw, sticky saliva dripping onto the terrified man. Just as he was about to tear the head from the body, a sword sliced through the air—cleaving the monster clean in half.
The monster's blood burst out like a fountain, drenching the knight and staining the ground in red. The upper half of the creature's body collapsed backward with a wet thud, while the lower half landed heavily on top of the knight.
The wounded knight heard footsteps behind him—boots crunching softly on the wet forest floor. A figure soon stepped into view and delivered a powerful kick to the creature's lower half.
The figure, clad in similar armour, crouched in front of him. His head was covered by a hood to shield him from the rain, and a black mask hid half his face. Still, a few strands of shiny golden hair spilled from beneath the hood, and his bright blue eyes stared with a sharp, intense gaze.
"Snyx, Sometimes I feel like when I give you instructions, I must be speaking a different language. Is that why you have such a hard time understanding me?" the figure said, his tone dry and laced with frustration.
Soon, a few more armored figures appeared behind him exactly 8 in number, swords unsheathed and eyes sharp and altered, though their weary expressions showed they'd been running at full speed for some time.
"Haah... haah... Sir Michael, please consider this once in a while—we don't have divine physique like you. We're just normal human beings. We can actually die from exhaustion."
"Y-Yeah... I thought I was gonna puke up everything I ate this morning. Imagine if I threw up inside my Purifier."
Michael gave a disappointed look, then removed his black mask—the Purifier—revealing a handsome face beneath, and handed it to the wounded knight, who was nearly fainting from lack of air.
The man immediately put on the Purifier and took a deep breath at last, though the pain from his wound remained unbearable, and blood still poured from his stump.
"S-Sir... what about you?" Snyx asked, his voice hoarse from pain.
Michael didn't reply right away. He simply waved his hand, signaling for something. A figure behind Snyx tossed him the same black mask he had given away earlier. Michael put the Purifier back on and said, "Don't ask dumb questions. Unlike you, I come prepared. And you dumbass—how did you end up deeper in the forest when you had the Map and Manual?"
Snyx didn't reply and looked down, clearly apologetic. He had nothing to say—until he finally muttered, "I-I'm sorry, Sir Michael… but I don't know how I ended up here."
Michael sighed in frustration. "Dom, Orian—take him back to camp. Treat him there. Check the wooden box with the symbol of the Goddess; there should be a few healing scrolls inside."
Two men behind Snyx immediately stepped forward and gently lifted him by the shoulders. With only one leg left, Snyx struggled to stay upright.
"Be careful on your way out. If you see anything suspicious, don't look into it—just focus on getting out safely," Michael said firmly.
The two knights nodded in understanding and began walking slowly toward the camp. As they passed, the other knights glanced at Snyx and tapped his shoulder one by one—a quiet gesture of care and respect.
Each of them, including Michael, felt a bitter weight in their chest. Snyx wasn't just a brave knight—he was a loyal companion. But losing his leg meant he could no longer be with them.
Michael sat on a nearby stone under a tree and pulled back his black hood. A part of him felt responsible, though he knew not everything was in his control—just like what happened a few days ago in the Azteck Kingdom.
Everything had gone downhill a few days ago, when a terrorist attempted to assassinate King Glinthor II of Azteck. In the chaos, many members of the royal family, nobles, and even commoners were killed—marking one of the darkest days in the kingdom's history.
There had been many attempts on the king's life before, but none had ever reached this scale. Though the king survived, the devastation left behind cast a shadow of despair across the entire kingdom.
None of the past threats had broken through the defenses of the kingdom's elite intelligence force and the talented protectors who guarded him around the clock.
That day, Michael—one of the seven heroes of the continent—felt nothing but shame. He had failed to protect the lives that were lost… including the one he cared for most.
Michael shut his eyes for a moment. Too much had happened too fast, and the weight of it all pressed down on him—regret, anger, and a quiet, aching sadness. He exhaled slowly, forcing his thoughts into order, then looked at his team. Their eyes mirrored his own—worn down, heavy with things left unsaid.
"Let's rest here for a bit and discuss our further actions," Michael said calmly.
Everyone found a spot to sit—some on the wet ground, others on nearby stones. They weren't just tired from chasing after Michael, but also from two straight days of walking.
"Did you guys find any clues?" Michael asked.
A female knight called Alice with black hair and sharp black eyes replied in a calm, steady voice, "Selvic and I scouted the east side of the forest. We found footsteps near the river—heading deeper in."
"Strange... everything about that bastard is weird. He came out of nowhere and tried to kill His Majesty, and now he decides to go deeper into this cursed forest?" Michael said, frowning. "What was his estimated power level again?"
A knight sitting beside the woman "Vix"—brown-haired, black-eyed—answered, "According to the intelligence, they placed him around 3-Star, but it hardly matters here. No one can use internal energy in this place. Physique-wise, he's just a normal human male. Also, during the attack, he didn't fight head-on—just hid in the chaos he caused and waited for the right moment."
Klint, the red-haired, green-eyed knight, replied in a casual tone, "Maybe he's just that dumb, and we're the ones overestimating him? We already know there were a lot of problems to begin with. The crowd that day was massive—people from all over the kingdom had gathered at the palace for the Festival of the Goddess. Creating chaos in that kind of crowd isn't exactly hard when most of them are just normal folks who'd lose their shit at the sight of a snake. This whole tragedy might've been avoided if His Majesty hadn't decided to walk right into the middle of it all. Doesn't matter how good our intelligence is or how high-star the knights guarding him are—there's a limit to everything."
Divas, who was sitting to the left of Klint, nodded in agreement. He pulled back his hood and ran a hand through his curly black hair. With his light blue eyes fixed on Michael, he said, "That's right, sir. Maybe we really are overestimating him. I also believe there's a traitor inside the palace who helped him. If he's that cunning, why would a random villager spot him heading into this Forest? There are two possibilities. First—someone is using him as a distraction, so we focus all our efforts on him while the real culprit moves freely. Second—he needs something from us and planned this to lure us here, where we can't use our internal energy and are easier to corner."
Michael sighed and said, "You think I haven't considered that? The real problem is His Majesty Himself. That bastard left a scar on his face, and now he's gone mad with rage. He wants to drag "Nazim" naked through the crowd and torture him in front of everyone. So we have to catch him. I don't care who's backing him or what trap he's set by luring us here—he's going back to the kingdom to answer for the suffering he's caused to us and our people."
Listening to the conversation, the knight who'd been sitting silently on the ground let out a quiet laugh, as if he'd just heard a joke.
He had long yellow hair and deep violet eyes. "Overestimating him…?" he muttered.
As soon as he spoke, the air shifted. No one said a word.
"Klint. You too, Divas. Tell me—how powerful is a 5-star mage?" the yellow-haired man asked, his voice calm and cold. His intense violet eyes locked onto them.
Klint didn't dare meet his eyes. His voice was low, laced with regret. "I-I'm sorry… Chris."
"Is that an answer to my question?" Chris said coldly, shifting his gaze to Divas. "You tell me."
"I didn't mean it like that… I was just trying to be logical. Same as Klint," Divas replied, avoiding eye contact.
"Logical, huh?" Chris muttered. "That's exactly why I asked you the question—because from where I stand, you weren't being 'Logical' at all."
Michael didn't let the situation escalate. He looked at Chris and said in a firm tone, "Enough. Don't take it to heart—he didn't mean it that way." He paused, then turned toward Alice and Selvic. "Anyway, is that all?"
"That's all for now, sir," Alice replied with a slight nod.
Selvic, the man with silver hair and gray eyes, added, "There's one more thing I noticed, sir. Something very strange." He continued, "The forest is unusually quiet. The manual says a lot of beasts lurk in the outer zone of the first layer, but during our time here, we've only come across four or five. That's way too few. There's no sound of birds either. At first, I tried to brush it off… but now I'm not so sure."
Vix added, "I've noticed it too. During my trainee days, I was sent into this Ether Forest to hunt a monster called "Spicron". Back then, the place was crawling with creatures—I had to fight constantly just to get through. Now? It's like they've all vanished."
Michael let out a deep breath. His eyes were steady, but his voice carried weight."We're going deeper into the first layer. We've already checked the outer zone and found nothing. That means he either moved further in or somehow escaped. But escape is unlikely—if he had, Intelligence would've picked it up."
Everyone's expression shifted. Silence settled over the group, and though no one spoke up, it was clear they all thought the same thing: this was a bad idea.
The Ether Forest, also called the Demonic Forest, was one of the most dangerous places on the continent. It stretched far into the western lands, filled with a strange substance in the air called Ether. Just breathing it for too long could cause a devastating death.
What made it worse was that Ether interfered with internal energy. No matter how strong a knight or mage was, once they stepped into the forest, their abilities stopped working. Their power, and defenses were stripped away.
Going deeper meant taking a huge risk. Everyone here knew it.
Alice said in hesitation, "B-But sir, it's too dangerous. According to the manual, if we go deep, we'll have a hard time breathing. Our purifier won't be able to fulfill our requirements. And aside from this danger, there are a lot of horrifying monsters that lurk there. We can't even use our true power here."
Michael swiftly shifted his gaze to Alice and said, "Don't rely too much on your internal energy alone, Alice. Use your brain and your training as a knight. I know about the danger, but what matters is me grabbing his neck and dragging him to the kingdom. That's what I promised His Majesty, that's what I promised to the people who have suffered, and that's what I promised to myself. That's our honour as knights and what it means to wear this armour. And if you're worried about danger, you shouldn't have chosen the path of a Holy Knight. After all, you're from a wealthy noble family."
The last line hit Alice like an arrow.
She lowered her gaze, gripping the fabric of her pants tightly. Michael's words weren't cruel they were the truth.
Alice, nor anyone else, objected to his decision, because that's what it means to be a "knight" of the kingdom—to fight the danger and to protect, which they had failed to do some days ago.
"Anyways, I promise you guys one thing. If it gets really dangerous, we'll retreat. There's no honour in dying worthless," Michael said in a calm tone.
He gripped his sheath tightly, only to realize there was no sword—right, he'd tossed it. "Prepare yourselves! And, uh… can someone go find my sword?"
KILL/ME/KILL.
Arc - Désespoir et Mort.