The group advanced with extreme caution along the muddy road. The soft sound of boots sinking into the damp earth was practically the only noise breaking the oppressive silence that dominated the area.
Artoria walked to Arthur's left, her posture firm and vigilant. In her hand, she held a red spear.
That was the weapon Arthur had temporarily entrusted to her. Considering the unpredictable dangers of the mission, he deemed it necessary for her to wield something more powerful than an ordinary sword—not only to protect herself, but also to defend those around her.
Milo, on the other hand, stood in complete contrast to the setting.
Dressed in a light pink dress that clashed with the somber environment, she moved with a certain grace, her long pink hair swaying gently with each step as it reached her waist. She did not look like someone marching toward a battlefield, but rather someone enjoying a carefree stroll.
This contrast drew Arthur's attention, prompting him to observe her more closely.
After all, that girl now represented the tribal leaders. When the opportunity arose, he would need to consider how to support her—not only from a strategic standpoint, but politically as well.
Milo clearly noticed Arthur's attention. A faint smile appeared on her lips, seemingly innocent, yet carrying a glimmer that was difficult to interpret.
"The king is truly very kind," she said softly.
She brushed a strand of hair away from her face with a graceful, natural motion before continuing:
"But… please do not underestimate me."
Arthur did not respond immediately. Instead, he shifted his attention to the village ahead, approaching it slowly while the knights formed a tight guard around him, alert to any suspicious movement.
After passing that point, Bedivere would still take some time to arrive due to the alternate route he had to take.
Until then, the mission was simple—at least in theory.
Determine the number of enemies.
Nothing more.
And yet… something was wrong.
The further Arthur advanced, the stronger that unsettling feeling became.
The silence was… excessive.
It was not merely the absence of sound—it was as if the environment itself was suppressing any sign of life.
"This is strange… we haven't encountered a single Saxon so far," Artoria said in a low voice, her expression serious.
"We've scouted the surroundings. There are no signs of an ambush," added one of the knights.
"And that's precisely what makes this even more concerning…" Lamorak murmured, his deep voice laced with caution.
It was like the calm before a storm.
If there had still been time to reconsider the operation, he would likely have suggested an immediate withdrawal of the king.
"Could they be using the empty city strategy…?" Arthur muttered to himself, mentally analyzing the possibilities.
He could not imagine what kind of trap might have been prepared.
And up until that moment, his "intuition" had yet to manifest clearly.
Which meant… no danger had revealed itself.
Yet.
"My lord! Something has happened in the village!"
Suddenly, the knight leading the front stepped back half a pace, his voice filled with shock as he blocked the group's advance.
"What is it?"
Arthur stepped forward, his gaze focused… and then his pupils slowly dilated as he took in the scene before him.
The place, which should have been filled with enemy life, had become a field of death.
Corpses were scattered everywhere.
The bodies of Saxon soldiers lay sprawled across the ground in twisted positions, as if they had fought until their very last breath. Their eyes remained open, frozen in expressions of pure despair. The ground was stained with both dried and fresh blood, forming a grotesque landscape.
None of them had survived.
"How is this… possible…?" Artoria murmured, visibly shaken.
The scene was far too brutal.
Whatever had done this… it had not been quick.
"Search for survivors immediately," Arthur ordered, his voice firm despite the tension. "Conduct a full sweep of the entire area surrounding the village. Report back in half an hour."
The knights dispersed at once, beginning their search with discipline.
Meanwhile, Arthur observed the surroundings.
It was the first time he had seen corpses up close.
And yet… surprisingly, he felt no nausea.
No fear.
Only a cold discomfort… and a strange calm.
The faint sound of water echoing from a dry well in the distance made everything even more unsettling in the silent dusk.
"Lily?" Arthur turned, realizing that Artoria had moved away.
She was near the well, kneeling beside a tied horse.
The animal lay on the ground, motionless, as if on the brink of death.
"There's still a horse alive…?" Arthur murmured, surprised.
It was a pure white horse, its coat seeming to emit a subtle glow. Despite its weakened state, there was something majestic about it.
It allowed Artoria to touch it, as if it trusted her.
"It seems… sad," Artoria said softly.
Tears gathered in the animal's eyes, as if it were capable of feeling… and understanding.
Arthur did not hesitate.
He drew his sword and, with a precise motion, cut through the chains binding the horse.
Almost immediately, the animal reacted.
As if life had been returned to it, it rose with difficulty… yet with determination.
Artoria gently stroked its head.
"Go. This place is not safe for you."
But the horse did not move.
Instead, it stepped closer to her and rubbed its face against her shoulder, showing an unexpected affection.
"It seems it really likes you," Arthur said, surprised.
Even after being freed… it chose to stay.
"If that's the case… we can take it with us. We'll arrange another horse later," Arthur suggested.
Such an intelligent animal was far too rare to ignore.
Artoria nodded, gently stroking the horse's mane.
"Your Majesty, would you like some water? We've been traveling for quite a while."
Milo's soft voice suddenly appeared again, catching Arthur off guard.
She extended a flask with a faint smile.
Arthur accepted it, quickly assessing.
It's… lighter than it should be.
Milo noticed.
"I drank a bit along the way. I hope you don't mind," she said naturally.
The way she said it left little room for refusal.
Refusing… would seem rude.
Arthur simply took a few sips and handed it back.
"Thank you."
"You're welcome," she replied with a smile.
Could it be… that she did that on purpose?
Arthur wondered, observing her briefly.
However, the environment gave him no time to dwell further.
The leaves around them began to stir.
The ground… trembled slightly.
Arthur lost his balance for a brief moment.
Immediately, Milo and Artoria positioned themselves at his sides—one with her spear, the other with her whip. Lamorak also stepped forward, placing himself ahead like a living wall.
Arthur looked around.
There was nothing.
After the tremor… silence once again.
"Something is wrong…" Lamorak said, tightening his grip on his spear. "Very wrong."
A cold wind swept through the area.
And then—
"A monster! There's a monster!"
The scream echoed in the distance.
Without hesitation, everyone ran toward the cabin from which the sound came.
The door was locked.
Lamorak kicked it open with force.
What they saw inside made everyone freeze.
One of the knights lay on the ground, unconscious and covered in blood. His armor was torn apart by deep claw marks.
Before anyone could react, a vision flashed through Arthur's mind.
He drew his sword, pushed Artoria aside, and blocked the attack that emerged from the darkness.
Sharp claws collided against his blade.
And then… the creature revealed itself.
Disheveled silver hair.
Long ears.
Teeth as sharp as blades.
A wild, feral presence.
"An… otherworldly spirit?!" Lamorak exclaimed in disbelief.
Someone… opened a gateway to the afterlife?
Without a doubt… that creature had massacred everyone here.
Without hesitation, Lamorak attacked with his spear.
But the spirit evaded with supernatural agility.
(End of Chapter)