"We cannot simply leave empty-handed," the Magister advised, leaning closer to the Lord. "Our forces have already lost vital resources on this journey. Entire squadrons—even Commander Knights—were slaughtered during this expedition."
Lord Alexander sighed heavily, the weight of the disastrous campaign pressing down on his shoulders. "Do you want me to be killed by that monster next?"
"No, my Lord..." the Magister murmured, stepping back.
Silence fell over the tent. What else could have been done? Alexander thought bitterly.
"Ha! The Knights Templar should have defended us properly," a Royal Archer smirked, deliberately trying to provoke a reaction from the vanguard. "Why did we even bother bringing these useless grunts?"
A nearby knight shot back, his expression darkening with rage. "And who among us was too cowardly to even loose an arrow at the enemy floating in the sky? Tell me, archer—is your status based entirely on your nobility, or do you actually possess a spine?"
"The Lord is still speaking," a senior knight intervened sharply. His commanding tone acted as an extensive, furious demand for the Royal Archer to shut his mouth and calm down.
Alexander tuned out their bickering, his mind shifting to the erratic swordsman who had caused a massive commotion just moments prior—the one Adam seemed so fond of. It would be highly beneficial to have someone gather intelligence while the main army retreated.
The real problem was securing the man's loyalty. Enslavement contract magic would guarantee his return, but Alexander knew Adam would fiercely oppose it.
Alexander, the heavy signet ring of his house pressing cold against his skin. He was so incredibly tired.. He was confused... To the legendary legacy of his father—the man who had forged the very Order through blood and iron.
The bitter irony wasn't lost on him. Alexander had never truly seen his father. Not really. The old man had been a ghost in his own palace, entirely consumed by a bottomless, shameless greed that kept him perpetually on the warpath. He had abandoned his son to chase the next territory, the next line on a map.
Now, standing in a collapsing tent in a hostile wilderness, Alexander realized he was doing the exact same thing. He was chasing the shadow of a man he despised, desperate to earn the approval of a tyrant who had never cared enough to give it.
He hated him... He hated it even more that... That was his only father.
Before he could weigh his options, a breathless guardsman burst into the tent. "Sir! A dark-armored knight demands to meet with you. He claims he is the catalyst who will direct revolutionary changes to the kingdom."
Too many problems. Far too many.
Alexander looked over at his Royal Swordsman, his voice tired but firm. "Bring this dark knight in. And bring that other swordsman to me as well.
Roberts POV
Don't die.
The thought was a frantic, desperate mantra ringing through Robert's aching skull. If you die, everything ends. Their hopes, their dreams, their very will...
No. That wasn't right. He forced the thought away. It was his will now.
They were dead
and he was the one left breathing.
Robert fought bitterly to focus, grappling with a wave of sheer exhaustion and the phantom suffering of whatever suffering plagued him. Clarity was a luxury he couldn't afford.
"Where do monsters even come from?"
Byeon's voice shattered the heavy silence of the woods. He was looking around with the wide-eyed, naive curiosity of someone entirely unaccustomed to a world of fantasy. "Do they... breed, or something?"
Robert blinked, his tired mind stumbling over the bizarre, modern term. "What's breeding?"
Byeon let out a sharp cough, waving his hand dismissively as if trying to physically purge his own mind from the modern world from his head. "Never mind."
"They just come along," Robert answered quietly, his voice raspy. Mana and fantastic creatures had always been a part of this world, a natural fixture of the landscape. But over the last two decades... during the relentless conquest and endless bloodshed, something else had shifted. It was as if a demon had cursed the very soil, seeding the lands with abominable horrors. A twenty-year plague of monsters.
They trudged onward against the oppressive weight of the forest. With every step, the patches of wet grass soiled the stiff leather of Robert's boots. He glanced down, his eyes lingering on Byeon's bizarre footwear. The bottoms of his shoes were stark white—wholly unsuited for this terrain. Not that it mattered; everything turned to filth in this damp, unforgiving ground.
Byeon was visibly miserable, his face twisted in annoyance at his damp socks. Robert could practically see the resentment radiating off him. Byeon was likely wondering how those legendary 'isekai' protagonists managed to travel across harsh worlds and somehow make it look fun. The answer, of course, was power. Unstoppable, reality-bending power. Which he currently lacked.
Robert hacked up another rough cough, stopping to lean against a mossy trunk. "Hey, you there," he called out, his voice laced with growing dread. "Are you absolutely sure you're leading us the right way?"
The last thing he wanted was to wander deeper into the dark canopy and stumble into a nest of apex predators. Sweat beaded on Byeon's forehead as he scanned the trees. Panic flickered in his eyes—he had either lost the path or forgotten it entirely, and the sheer anxiety of admitting that to Robert was paralyzing him.
A sudden rustle in the undergrowth cut through the tension. Two tiny gnome holding each other... burst from the bushes, sprinting for its life, closely pursued by a scrambling pack of small, humanoid monsters.
"Look! Follow that gnome!" Byeon yelled, pointing frantically.
Byeon... Spiraled with confusion flared. Is the town the thing they even looking for? Byeon had muttered something about a place nearby... wait, a witch's town? Was the town run by a witch, or was it named after one?
"Hey! There you are!"
Before Robert could demand answers, a booming voice called out. A group of dwarves emerged from the forest shade, walking from rock and wood tiles, smiles breaking across their bearded faces as they hurried toward Byeon, calling him 'Adam.'
"Never mind that! See!" Byeon shouted back, ignoring their greetings and pointing toward a small, rustic house nestled deep within the shadows of the trees.
Robert took in the scene rapidly. The house looked sturdy enough, but the tiny humanoid monsters were closing in, their vicious little hands clawing to grab the fleeing gnome. The dwarves finally noticed Robert standing there, their expressions instantly morphing into deep suspicion at the sight of a stranger.
"Hello, sirs... Wait a moment," Robert muttered.
He couldn't just stand by. With a swift, practiced motion, he swept his weapon through the air, sweeping down the tiny monsters trying to grab the gnome, but he didnt killed it.
This could get incredibly dangerous, Robert thought, suppressing a heavy sigh. Why did he always end up in these predicaments? I really, really don't want to die.
Stepping back from the scattered beasts, he offered a stiff, formal bow to the wary dwarves. "I am the envoy for Prince Alexander, from the Empire of Order."
The dwarves' smiles vanished instantly, replaced by cold, ominous frowns..
ASTORY
A long time ago, there was a story...
It began in an era far beyond our own, when a grand city stood proud against a world teeming with the strange and the terrifying. This was a time of true fantasy, when monsters were simply creatures, and the boundaries of the world were clear.
Dragons were still feared as abominable engines of destruction, and goblins were universally dreaded as wretched beasts. Orcs were viewed as nothing more than a passing nuisance, while vampires remained frail, skulking shadows in the dark. In those days, werewolves were dismissed as mere myth, and the age of the ancients was still a living memory—a vivid story whispered by firesides, not yet forgotten by time.
It was a world that still held its untouched majesty, where magic was woven from pure wonder. It was the very source of life itself—long before it was corrupted, weakened, and diluted into the faint aura that modern humans can barely grasp today.
But the world's sublime peace could not last.
The turning point came when the very first soul was tainted. Touched by an unfathomable darkness, a connection was forged. An entity—a devil from another universe—reached across the cosmic void, desperate to find a passage into this realm. It sought out an adventurer, offering a terrifying contract.
The terms were simple: in exchange for a doorway into this world, the adventurer would gain absolute power and a second life snatched back from the very jaws of death.
It was a single deal, sealed in the shadows. And with that pact, the world was never the same again...
In the wake of that dark pact, those humans who still possessed the old pure magic were deeply shunned. Fear turned to hatred as the common people began to look at the arcane with suspicion. They came to believe that the mages' secret rituals and strange worship were the absolute cause of the world's demise—the catalyst that had invited the corruption in.
Scorned by society, these magic-users were hunted like beasts. They were dragged from their homes and killed, meeting brutal ends brought about by the harsh, uncompromising judgment of a terrified world.