After ten minutes of trudging forward, the sight that greeted us was nothing short of horrifying.
Shattered remnants of human bodies lay strewn across the snow, their lifeless forms stark against the crimson stains soaking into the once-pristine white.
The sharp scent of iron clung to the air, mixing with the biting chill of the blizzard, turning each breath into something foul and heavy.
Ahead, the silhouette of Triwheel Village emerged through the storm, but the relentless snow had long since erased Nicholas' tracks.
"There—up ahead!" one of my men cried, pointing.
Through the swirling frost, I caught sight of a cluster of wyverns circling a compact figure—just a child, trembling, sitting helplessly in the snow. His wide eyes reflected only terror.
I ran. My legs screamed with each step, my injured foot dragging, but I forced myself forward.
This time, I would not let the wyvern strike down someone before my very eyes. Not again. By sheer will, I arrived in time, raising my blade to intercept the wyvern's strike.
The boy's eyes widened, shock and hope battling across his tear-stained face.
"Are you alright, kid?" I forced a smile, though the situation was dire.
I swung wildly, not thinking, only driven by the instinct to protect.
'Reckless… I'm being reckless.'
The wyvern snarled, baring its jagged fangs at me. My stomach twisted with dread.
'Damn it… I'm scared.'
But I couldn't let the boy see that. "Don't be afraid. I'll defeat them all… and I'll save you."
I declared with unwavering confidence, a conviction that made the boy's eyes glimmer with fragile belief.
'Defeat them all? What crap!'
My leg throbbed so violently I could barely stand.
"Sir Keith!" Rubert's voice cut through the storm as he and his men appeared, blades flashing in the white haze.
Silent, deadly assassins—within moments, two wyverns collapsed in pools of steaming blood.
"Rubert, take the child." I handed the boy over, my hands shaking.
"But, Sir Keith—!"
"Return to the castle. Protect him. He may be the only survivor of this village."
Rubert's eyes widened with disbelief. "Do you hear yourself?! Five wyverns circle above, four remain here. Are you trying to throw your life away?"
He thought me resigned, a still life against the approaching dark, but my pulse hammered a frantic rhythm. I would fight, find a path and eventually defeat this beast in front of me.
'Keith only dies to Epsilon's magic.'
'Not to this.'
A grin tugged at my lips, sharp and defiant, and it startled Rubert enough to make him falter.
"I'll be back," he finally said, lifting the boy into his arms.
He barked orders to two of his men: "Protect Sir Keith!" Then, in a blink, Rubert vanished into shadow with the child.
I turned back to face the snarling wyverns, gripping my sword tighter.
"Then let's begin."
---
Keith panted raggedly, chest heaving.
Around him lay the mangled corpses of wyverns, blood smoking in the snow. His arms trembled, his legs numb—he could no longer feel them.
His abdomen burned fiercely where a wyvern's breath had seared his flesh.
He glanced to his sides—where two comrades had once fought, only blood, and silence remained.
Memory replayed in fragments: his swollen leg giving way, a comrade crying, "Watch out, Sir Keith!" as he shielded him from death, only to fall moments later.
Another had struck down a wyvern with sheer desperation, only to lose his arm and collapse onto the snow.
The blizzard started to subside after their sacrifice disrupted the formation, but Keith remained furious.
His eyes locked onto the wyverns above with seething hatred. He lunged again and again, blade carving through scale and sinew, blood splattering his face and freezing upon his skin.
He could no longer count how many he had slain—only that none remained alive when he stopped.
The snowstorm had ceased. Silence fell heavy. Keith dropped to his knees, his sword slipping from numb fingers.
A cry tore from his throat, raw and anguished, echoing across the dead village. He had won, yet lost everything. His body shook with rage and despair, and then he finally collapsed face-first into the snow.
Blood poured from his abdomen, staining the frost beneath him. His breath came in shallow wisps of white mist before fading into the cold air. Darkness pulled at his mind.
Following a lengthy pause, a shadow appeared. A silhouette approached, its teeth clattering in the quiet.
"This human… how interesting. I'll take him."
Rough hands lifted Keith's limp form, dragging him onto a creaking cart. Without a sound, the figure turned, pulling the unconscious man away into the frozen night.
__________________
"Narnia," Xerta called to the woman beside him. "Can you count how many of our guards have fallen?"
Narnia nodded, moving among the lined bodies at the border, each draped with a white cloth over their faces.
Xerta held his head in his hand. The sudden assault had struck just after he had finished work in a nearby village—he had been about to check with Epsilon to see if the repairs on the protective sphere were complete. Instead, the corpses of his men greeted him as he looked across the ground. Shocked, he had rushed to the upper walls of the border fortress, where even more bodies lay.
But beyond the horror of his fallen men stretched an even grimmer sight: dozens of wyvern carcasses piled in grotesque disarray before the border.
Then Epsilon appeared above, waving casually as he descended from the skies.
"You're late."
"All of this… you killed them?"
Epsilon nodded. "Honestly, I was furious. While repairing the protective sphere, I focused all my magic there, so I couldn't attack. But I must commend your men, Xerta! Without a word, they shielded me with their lives. Such loyalty."
A chill ran through Xerta. The man before him looked untouched by exhaustion, unaffected by the surrounding carnage. He knew Epsilon well enough: empathy had never been his strong suit. Yet, because of Epsilon, both the protective and detection spheres had been restored, so he couldn't bring himself to scold him.
Now, through them, he could see the surrounding threats.
"But where did they come from?" Epsilon asked.
"The numbers are too great. They must have migrated from their nest," Xerta replied.
"Solum!" Xerta called out. "Gather the bodies."
"Yes, my lord!"
Turning back to the glowing orb, Xerta scanned its display. Only wyverns were detected—but his eyes widened when he saw their locations. Three red markers glowed within his own castle. Ten more pulsed around Triwheel Village.
"What is this madness!" Xerta slammed his fist onto the table.
"Can you be quiet!" Epsilon snapped. "I'm concentrating on maintaining the barrier here!"
"How is this possible?! I thought they came from here—yet another flock approaches from the southeast!"
"Southeast?" Epsilon shoved Xerta aside to peer into the sphere. His jaw clenched, frustration clear. Why so many? Why now?
"My lord! Another wave at the front! Around ten more wyverns are approaching!" Solum's cry sent panic through Xerta's chest. Too many. And wyverns were not beasts that should appear in such numbers—not here.
"Dark essence…" Epsilon muttered under his breath.
"I'll trace its source!" Without waiting for reply, Epsilon dashed out. Xerta watched him hurl a wyvern into the sky, then launch himself upward, streaking toward the southeast where the swarm had come from.
Now, Xerta sat before the glowing sphere, watching red dots flicker—some fading, new ones appearing. His heart churned. He wanted to rush out, to fight, but every guard here was already dead. If he left, the border would be abandoned. What of the three nearby villages? What of their people?
Must I let them die?
No, he forced down his impatience. He had to trust—for Keith was out there. Keith would protect Leyla and her brother.
"My lord, twelve dead," Narnia reported quietly.
"I see…"
"I found three in hiding!" Solum returned, dragging three surviving guards with him.
"Forgive us, my lord duke," they cried, kneeling, their voices thick with shame. "Our comrades fell, one by one. Fear seized us; we were cowards who abandoned our duty!"
"Stand."
Xerta's voice, though bitter, was all he could muster. Inside, rage clawed at him, desperate to be unleashed—upon the wyverns, upon the mocking, glowing red markers that pulsed from the sphere.
Lately… I can't seem to channel my fury.
From the distance, Epsilon reappeared, hair disheveled, eyes sharp. "I've slain them all—and found this."
He held out a strange medium, radiating foul energy.
Xerta's eyes narrowed. "A lure… to draw the monsters."
"It reeks of filth. I found inscriptions in red letters at the site," Epsilon said.
"Dark essence," Xerta muttered.
"You know of it too?" Epsilon asked.
Xerta hurled the object aside, face twisting. Whoever had planted it—he knew this was the same hand that had desecrated the church at his wedding. The same hand that had summoned Prometheus.
"Damn it!"
Two figures emerged from the shadows, masked in black. Xerta recognized them instantly. Norven!
"Do you know anything about this?" Xerta barked.
"We bear a message from Lord Rubert. Two wyverns attacked the castle but were defeated by Lord Keith."
Epsilon, who had seemed detached until now, exhaled in relief.
"But Lord Nicholas and Lady Sera have vanished. Their whereabouts unknown."
"What?!" Xerta froze, breath caught in his throat.
"The wyverns' origin appears to be from the southeast—likely Triwheel Village."
"Then the people there…!" Narnia whispered, unable to finish.
"My lord, the situation is dire!" Solum cried.
"From the castle, five guards have fallen: Fein, Hyler, Rove, Oga, and Seth."
Solum's face was heavy with grief.
"Lord Rubert and Lord Keith now head southeast," the shadowed messenger added.
"What!!" Epsilon roared, fury flashing. "They're what?!"
"They seek His Grace Nicholas and Lady Sera—"
"Are they insane?! Look at the sphere—red markers everywhere!"
"We only deliver the message, my lord. We know no more."
"Damn it!" Epsilon grabbed one messenger by the collar. "Tell him not to go!"
"Epsilon, calm yourself!"
"Calm? You think I can calm down?! And you—Duke! You're the one in command, aren't you?! Do something!"
Xerta clenched his teeth. Epsilon wasn't wrong. A decision had to be made.
"Solum—you and three others! Go warn the nearby villages. Evacuate their people here. A barrier protected this place. Don't let a single wyvern slip past!"
"Yes, my lord!"
"Narnia—you and the rest, hold this border. When the villagers arrive, provide food and shelter."
Narnia bowed.
"Come, Epsilon. Do you have mana left? You can teleport us."
Epsilon scowled. "Of course I still have mana, damn it."
He seized Xerta's shoulder. In a flash, they stood before Xerta's castle.
A wyvern swooped overhead—Xerta drew his blade, cutting it down with a single strike. Then, striding to the gates, he knocked.
The door creaked open. Leyla stood there, tears streaming down her blood-streaked face.
"Xe…rta…"
Her hands were crimson, trembling. Epsilon rushed inside. Rubert lay wounded, drenched in blood.
"Rubert came—brought a child—but the wyvern… h-he struck from behind him... he bled so much… then the wyvern tried to force its way in… I-I held the door—" Leyla's voice broke into sobs.
"Leyla…" Xerta brushed her cheek, wiping away her tears.
"Where's Keith?!" Epsilon's voice cut in, sharp, searching. His face paled when he saw no sign of him.
"Keith… he… I wanted to… I tried…but he said I have to realize my position...so..." Leyla stammered through sobs.
Rubert groaned, forcing himself to speak. "I left… Lord Keith… with nine wyverns…"
Leyla gasped, covering her mouth, tears spilling anew.
"I swore I'd return swiftly," Rubert struggled to rise.
"Huwaaa… that brother, he said he'd defeat them all… and save me… but I didn't even thank him!" the child beside Rubert wailed, voice piercing.
Epsilon's face twisted with worry. Mana flared from him in violent waves, shaking the air. Leyla staggered, nearly fainting from the surge.
"Calm yourself! You'll burn out your core! If this continues, you might end up having a mana bash!" Xerta barked.
"…You said Triwheel, didn't you?" Rubert coughed, nodding weakly.
And with that, Epsilon vanished.
"Damn it… he teleported ahead."