Radahn rode a skinny warhorse that looked utterly mismatched with his tall, imposing frame, slowly arriving at the border of Caelid.
However, what entered his sight was not the peaceful, tranquil scene he remembered, but a stretch of ruins as black as charcoal.
The ruins gave off a thick stench of burnt ash, as if the whole world had once been swallowed by a terrible fire.
Radahn's gaze slowly swept across the scorched land. On the side closer to Limgrave, he saw that every face seemed to have the word "rage" written across it.
These people should originally have been his subjects. They had lived and worked peacefully on this land, leading quiet lives.
Now they had not died a worthy death, but had instead become tools used by others, all for the sake of provoking a war between two Lords.
Radahn's long brows trembled slightly, and an indescribable fury surged in his heart.
Those treacherous, cunning things should never have appeared on this land of warriors. Yet even right under his nose, the Redmane Legion had been unable to catch them.
Some of those people were hidden within the army, and their positions were high enough to evade the Redmanes' investigation. This was the conclusion Starscourge General and the Redmane Knights had reached together.
But knowing that was of little use. Searching blindly would be no different from looking for a needle in the sea. The composition of their army was far too complicated now.
The Redmane Army itself numbered more than thirty thousand. The Night Mages from Sellia, who had always been Radahn's firm supporters, also numbered over a thousand.
And the Redmane Army also had allies in the form of the Godskin Nobles, Flying Dragons, and Death Hunters. The latter had originally had nothing to do with the Redmane Army. The two sides had simply lived peacefully on the same land.
But as the saying went, the enemy of one's enemy was a friend. The Firebearer Army's pursuit and killing of Death Hunters had clearly enraged the mysterious Beast Priest behind them.
If they dared kill Death Hunters today, would they not dare attack the Beast Temple tomorrow? And the day after that, would they even try to seize the Death in his hands?
The Beast Priest did not know exactly what had happened in Limgrave during the time he sent his people there, but the fact that the Firebearer Army dared shelter Death was enough to sentence them to death.
By comparison, the Godskin Nobles seemed less important. After all, while they revered Death, to them, Death had ultimately become a distant past beyond reach.
However, while the Death Hunters did not go looking for trouble with the Godskin Nobles, the Godskin Nobles looked at the people from the Beast Temple with hostility and dissatisfaction. After all, they had taken away their faith.
Once Limgrave was conquered, the two sides might very well become enemies outright.
The army on Caelid's side was currently filled with such a complicated and powder-keg atmosphere.
If not for Radahn, the powerful lord pressing down from above, this army might have fallen apart long ago. More precisely, it would never have been formed in the first place.
Just then, the clear sound of hooves came from afar, drawing nearer.
Along with the hoofbeats, a tall, strong figure rode a warhorse toward them like a rushing gale.
In the pitch-black night, the bright red tassel swayed like a burning flame, especially eye-catching.
The knights stepped aside one after another, opening a path for the rider.
When the rider reached Radahn, he quickly dismounted, knelt on one knee, and held up a parchment scroll. It clearly recorded something important.
All around was silent, without a single human voice. Radahn opened the parchment in the wind. Inside, the conditions of several villages were carefully recorded.
He quickly read through the contents, then closed the scroll. "Let's go take a look."
Then he led his men swiftly to one of the villages.
Broken houses stood in the darkness, with mutilated limbs buried among them.
They were arms that had been torn apart and burned black, with thread-like white fibers still wrapped around them, as if they were traces left behind by some eerie ritual.
The light of the Torches was limited. Most of the corpses were hidden in the darkness, only faintly visible.
They seemed to be raising their heads to look at those who had stepped into this place, silently pleading.
In the distance of the village, a red banner fluttered in the wind. It was the banner of the Redmanes.
The flag had been pierced through by something sharp, but one could still make out the white lion standing against the red banner.
The lion raised a long blade, like a warrior charging toward a powerful foe.
If the banner was the symbol of the Redmane Legion, then the mastermind's actions were undoubtedly a provocation and insult toward Starscourge General, because this was the territory they guarded.
Radahn passed through house after house until a Glintstone lamp lit his eyes.
Ahead was a small temporary camp, built directly outside the village's main gate, as if telling the enemies hiding in the shadows, "You can come again. We are not afraid."
They had come to investigate the village's condition, and could also be considered an advance party before the war officially began. Their leader was a high-ranking Redmane Knight, and also a hero.
The Redmane Knights were an elite knightly order directly under the Starscourge General, but unlike the elite knightly orders of other Lords, they were a mixed force of heroes and ordinary knights.
Only the top eighteen seats among the Redmane Knights were heroes, and the strongest among them was the first-ranked knight and hero known as the "Greatbow," Ogha. This leading knight ranked twelfth within the Order.
This was what a normal elite knightly order looked like. A first-rate hero was already the strongest combatant in the army beneath a Demigod. Malenia having a Demigod-level Knight Commander could practically be called unbelievable luck.
The atmosphere in the camp was heavy, an unbearable scene. Surging killing intent, surging violence, and surging anger were barely suppressed under the authority of the twelfth-ranked knight, finally manifesting as a surging oppression.
There were even more horrifying things around them. Broken limbs. Knights held severed arms and legs in their arms, while others dug pits nearby, as if they intended to bury grief and fury together.
Over the years, the knights had experienced countless brutal wars and witnessed the bloodiest, cruelest scenes of slaughter.
But this was not war. War was where warriors bore witness, not a slaughterhouse for the weak.
Those hiding in the shadows were not worthy of being called warriors at all. How could true warriors be so despicable and treacherous?
Radahn dismounted from his warhorse. His golden pupils suddenly shone brightly in the darkness, blazing like a bonfire beneath the night sky.
Radahn waved his hand, signaling the knights who wished to salute him to dispense with the formalities.
He walked straight to the twelfth-ranked knight, sat down without ceremony, and casually picked up the wine jug on the table.
"Olik," Radahn called softly, his voice low and powerful.
The knight called Olik seemed to know exactly what he was asking. He slowly raised his head, his gaze meeting Radahn's.
"Most are penetrating wounds, but the force was strong enough to tear the human body apart." Olik's tone was calm, but there was a trace of gravity within it.
"The enemy probably wasn't using ordinary weapons like spears, lances, arrows, or crossbows."
"And those attackers were highly skilled at concealment. Many guards were killed in a single blow without noticing anything at all."