The townspeople trudged forward, their weary bodies moving in silence. The distant echoes of battle still lingered in their minds, the flames of their fallen city now a faint glow behind them.
The knights patrolled the perimeter, their hands gripping their weapons tightly. Their eyes scanned the surroundings, ever watchful for the horrors that lurked in the dark.
Among them, Emma clutched Sophia’s hand tightly.
Her frail voice trembled. "I hope Gwen and Artreus are safe…"
Sophia nodded, though her face was filled with uncertainty.
"I hope so too… Grandma."
At the front of the column, the sound of clanking armor broke through the march.
A knight sprinted toward the command unit, sweat dripping down his face.
He halted in front of a towering figure— Aldric, the Knight-Commander of Eldoria.
The knight snapped into a salute, his breath ragged.
"Sir Aldric! A report from the battlefield!"
Aldric turned sharply, his silver armor glinting under the rising sun. His piercing eyes locked onto the knight.
"Speak."
The knight swallowed, steadying his voice.
"The town has fallen to the demons. Many civilians have been evacuated, but there are still some unaccounted for."
Aldric sighed deeply, the weight of war pressing down on him.
He looked to the horizon, his face grim.
"Without the Hero of the World… the world falls into darkness."
The words hung in the air.
Then—
A terrifying sound shattered the moment.
ROOOOOARRRR!!!
A wave of monstrous growls echoed across the land.
The knight snapped his head to the side, eyes wide.
"Incoming hellhounds!!"
THE HELLHOUNDS ATTACK
From the shadows of the trees, monstrous beasts emerged.
Their eyes burned red. Their black fur bristled. Their jagged fangs dripped with hunger.
And then—they charged.
"AAAAHHH!" The townspeople screamed.
Panic rippled through the refugees as they stumbled back in terror.
Aldric raised his arm, his voice thunderous.
"ARCHERS!!"
A line of knights armed with longbows stepped forward.
"LOOSE!!"
WHOOSH!
A storm of arrows sliced through the air, striking the oncoming beasts.
Several hellhounds fell, but more kept charging.
Aldric’s gaze hardened.
"Secure the area! Spears and swords—hold the line! PROTECT OUR PEOPLE!"
The knights formed a defensive wall, shields locking together, spears braced forward.
The hellhounds roared, their claws tearing into the earth as they lunged.
Aldric gritted his teeth, gripping his sword tightly.
"Gods save us all…"
Then—a thunderous sound echoed through the land.
The Arrival of the Mysterious Knight
The earth trembled as the rhythmic pounding of hooves echoed through the battlefield.
From the distance, a lone knight rode ahead of an approaching force, his figure a dark silhouette against the rising sun.
Behind him, a formation of armored warriors charged forward—The Knights of Camelot had arrived.
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The mysterious knight at the front did not slow down.
WHOOSH!
In a single, fluid motion, he leaped from his horse, landing amidst the chaos.
His massive sword—far larger than most warriors could wield—rested against his shoulder.
The hellhounds, sensing the raw power radiating from him, hesitated for a brief moment.
Then—he struck.
SHIIIIING!
With one mighty swing, the blade tore through the nearest hellhounds, splitting them in half.
Blood splattered across the ground.
The knight did not stop.
His movements were precise, merciless—each swing cutting through monstrous flesh like paper.
The Knights of Camelot charged behind him, steel clashing against claw.
Their arrival turned the tide of battle.
From afar, beyond the bloodshed, a pair of glowing red eyes observed the battlefield.
A lone figure stood on the remnants of a broken tower.
Amon.
The Archdemon of Deception.
He watched silently as the Knights of Camelot tore through the hellhounds with swift precision.
Then, his eyes landed on the mysterious knight.
"Hmm…" Amon mused, rubbing his chin.
His gaze lingered on the warrior’s form—the overwhelming aura surrounding him.
"That man… with such a powerful swing… what an immense presence he has."
He narrowed his eyes.
"A Round Table Knight?"
The mysterious warrior suddenly shifted his stance, gripping his sword with both hands.
Mana surged around him—pulsing, roaring—like a storm given form.
Then—
"HRAAAAH!"
He unleashed a devastating slash—
A colossal wave of energy erupted from his blade, cutting through the horde of hellhounds like a tidal wave.
BOOOOOOOM!
The shockwave sent debris flying. The ground trembled beneath the sheer force of his attack.
Even Amon, from his perch, felt the ripple of mana against his skin.
For the first time in a long while—he felt doubt.
His fingers twitched.
"That mana… it’s stronger than mine."
Amon clicked his tongue, taking a step back.
"Tch. I must not interfere. Not now."
Without another word—he vanished into the shadows.
A Face from the Past
As the dust settled, the Knights of Camelot regrouped, their armor gleaming in the sunlight.
The bulky knight stood tall amidst the bodies of the fallen beasts.
His massive sword lowered, its blade now drenched in black demon blood.
The other knights turned toward him, awaiting his command.
Then—
The knight reached for his helmet.
Slowly, he removed it.
His face was revealed.
Aldric’s eyes widened in shock.
The knight was not just any warrior.
He was Gareth.
A former member of the Round Table.
A legend long thought lost.
Aldric took a sharp breath, his voice filled with disbelief.
"Sir Gareth…?"
The battlefield fell silent.
For the first time since the war began—hope flickered in the hearts of the knights.
The Lion of Camelot had returned.
THE HUNT IN THE DARK WOODS
The forest was eerily silent, save for the rustling of leaves and the occasional hoot of an owl.
But deep within the dark woods, something huge stirred.
A giant bear—its fur thick and scarred from years of battle—wandered through the trees, its heavy paws crushing the underbrush beneath it.
The moonlight barely reached this part of the forest, leaving shadows stretching long and ominous.
Then—WHOOSH!
SHINK! SHINK! SHINK!
Suddenly, multiple shadowy blades flew through the air—
PIERCING into the bear’s back.
"ROAAAAARRR!!"
The beast reared up, twisting in pain, its massive claws swiping wildly at the air.
Then, it turned—its burning eyes locking onto a lone figure standing in the shadows.
A boy.
His cloak swayed slightly in the cold wind. Around his neck, a deep purple scarf fluttered.
His hand gripped another set of small, curved blades.
His expression was calm. Cold. Calculating.
Mikael.
The bear roared again—this time in fury.
With a powerful stomp, it charged.
THUD. THUD. THUD.
Each step shook the ground, its monstrous size making the trees tremble.
Mikael remained still, eyes locked onto the beast.
Then—he moved.
With lightning-fast reflexes, he flicked his wrists—
More blades flew.
SHINK! SHINK!
The blades struck true, embedding into the beast’s shoulders, its legs, its ribs.
Yet—it didn’t stop.
The bear roared through the pain, still charging, still coming.
Mikael narrowed his eyes.
"Persistent."
Just as the bear was about to reach him—
A figure dropped from the treetops.
"HAAAH!!"
A shadow blurred through the air—
Then—
BOOOOOM!!
A devastating impact shook the ground.
A blade—long, sharp, and gleaming beneath the moon— Slammed straight onto the bear’s skull.
A loud CRACK echoed through the forest.
The bear staggered, its body shuddering from the blow.
Standing above it, katana still embedded deep into its head—was another boy.
His eyes burned with intensity, his stance unwavering.
Aidan.
He gritted his teeth, twisting his blade deeper.
The purple-scarfed boy smirked slightly, flipping another blade between his fingers.
"Took you long enough."
Aidan glanced at him before pulling his sword free.
Campfire
The campfire crackled softly, the flames flickering against the darkened woods. The scent of burning wood and the cool night air mixed with the quiet murmurs of the men gathered around.
Sitting on a log, Samson took a slow sip of his beer, his expression unreadable as he watched the flames dance.
The sound of heavy footsteps broke the silence.
Samson looked up—his gaze settling on the two approaching figures.
Aidan and Mikael emerged from the darkness, both carrying the massive weight of a freshly hunted bear on their backs.
With a heavy THUD, they dropped the beast onto the ground.
Mikael wiped the sweat from his brow, catching his breath.
"Ah… ha… ah… We brought meat," he panted, exhaustion evident in his voice.
Samson nodded, setting his drink aside.
"Good job."
He shifted his gaze to Aidan.
"Aidan, slice it all up."
Aidan didn’t hesitate.
He unsheathed his katana, his grip firm, his focus sharp.
In one smooth motion—
SHING!
The blade sliced cleanly through the bear’s thick hide, dividing its flesh with precision.
Aidan worked swiftly, his strokes efficient, each movement calculated.
Mikael watched, shaking his head.
"Dang… It’s been a week." He exhaled, his voice carrying a hint of worry. "Artreus is still missing… along with the princess."
He leaned against a log, arms crossed.
"I’m starting to worry about him."
Samson grabbed another sip of beer before answering.
"He’ll be fine. He knows what to do."
His deep voice carried certainty, confidence.
"I’ve trained him to survive. Same goes for you two."
He looked at both of them, his eyes sharp.
"Artreus is a warrior. We’ll meet him soon."
Aidan huffed, not looking up from his blade.
"If that idiot’s dead, I should kill him myself."
Mikael snorted, shaking his head.
"How cruel… How can you kill someone who’s already dead?"
Aidan glanced at him, unimpressed.
"I’ll find a way."
Mikael let out a chuckle.
"Master says he’s fine, and if Master says he’s fine—then he’s fine."
Samson smirked slightly, tossing another log into the fire.
"Exactly."
The fire crackled louder, sending embers into the night sky.