When Faust doubled back and discovered that his white horse had been gutted, its heart torn out and its body hacked into pieces, his brain genuinely blanked out for a few seconds.
What followed was overwhelming, blinding rage.
The Prince of Aurum wasn't exactly a devoted horse lover, nor the type to give royal steeds pretentious nicknames like Eastern Sea Emperor or Golden Ship or Cinderella of the Grey Mane. In fact, he didn't even particularly like horses, such an unremarkable mount.
But he'd ridden the poor beast for so long on this journey. Even without glory earned, there was at least hard work put in.
And now, in one unguarded moment, his horse had been butchered, reduced to a shape that couldn't even be pieced back together.
This wasn't just slapping the horse's rear, this was slapping him right across the face!
Faust immediately drew his longsword and dagger, sweeping the surroundings for whoever had committed this atrocity. Judging from the scene, the white horse had met its end only minutes ago, and no amount of time was enough for anyone to escape his pursuit.
The Prince of Aurum's gaze burned sharp as fire. The techniques of his [Martial Saint] path were pushed to their absolute limit in this instant, and he immediately caught the disturbance.
Without another word, Faust charged forward. Not far from where the white horse had died, he spotted a tall figure by the riverbank, entirely encased in exquisite armor.
Faint blue lines flowed across the metal's surface, rising steam washing away the bloodstains coating the armor.
It was him!
Fury surged through Faust, and he accelerated once more, driving his blade straight toward that armored back.
Bang.
The armored horse-killer sensed the prince's murderous intent the instant it appeared, its reaction speed nothing short of impressive. It spun and blocked just before the longsword could pierce through its torso.
Clang.
A blade launched from a tactical compartment met the prince's longsword in a clash. Crimson light flared through the gap at the center of the armored helmet, and the core beneath the breastplate spun rapidly into motion, a booming engine roar echoing out:
"Attacker... unrecognized... activating, defense mode..."
"Huh? Not human?"
Seeing this, Faust realized the thing wasn't flesh and blood at all, but some kind of weapon resembling an autonomous puppet.
He'd heard that high-tier, powerful Mages could craft alchemical puppets nearly indistinguishable from real people, but he'd never actually witnessed one before.
That moment of hesitation lasted only an instant. Whether or not this thing belonged to some great Mage, Faust decided he'd beat it down first and ask questions later.
Credit where it's due, this autonomous construct fought with remarkable skill, handling the various weapons flying out of its tactical compartment as naturally as its own limbs, trading blows and retreating with Faust along the riverbank.
Clearly, whoever had built this thing's combat module knew what they were doing.
But who had Faust been sparring against all this time? Mistoria! The renowned Martial Saint of the White Court among the Fae!
Setting aside cultivation rank and raw power, when it came purely to combat technique, few in the mortal world could match Mistoria. And under his elven instructor's relentless training, Faust had picked up more than a few tricks on his own.
The [Martial Saint] path meant reaching the very pinnacle, pushing to the absolute limit.
How did that manifest?
Faust kept swinging his longsword and stabbing with his dagger, but the recovery time after every strike was canceled outright, the Prince of Aurum's movements snapping back to their starting position as though the animation frames had simply been skipped.
Cancel the recovery! Cancel the recovery! And cancel it again!
It might seem like just a fraction of a second shaved off each time, but those fractions added up. Combined with the secondhand Berserker skill he'd picked up from his father, Faust found himself firmly in control of the fight's rhythm.
Pressing the Frostwalker back the entire way, Faust finally found an opening and kicked, sending the armored construct flying.
He closed the distance instantly, pinning it down, dragging the puppet's body across the riverbank like a plow tearing through soil.
"Aaaargh! You dare kill my horse?!"
Faust straightened up, flinging the construct aside, ready to move into the next round of the fight.
But the moment the construct regained its balance, its first instinct wasn't to attack him at all. Instead, it shot across to the opposite bank at lightning speed, positioning itself protectively in front of a young girl.
"Your Highness! Please step back for now, I'll hold him off!"
The Frostwalker's sharp, urgent cry naturally drew Faust's attention to the girl standing on the far bank.
!!!
The instant he laid eyes on her, Faust's pupils contracted sharply, his breath catching in his throat.
Long, jet-black hair, smooth and straight, seemed to have night itself woven into every strand, drifting gently in the breeze.
A black pleated skirt paired with knee-high socks, skin white as snow beneath a matching top.
At first glance, such a stark, simple color palette might seem almost too blunt, but the extremes of black and white carried no conflict on her. Instead, they came together in perfect harmony.
The girl stood with her hands clasped behind her back, tilting her delicate, exquisite face slightly upward, delivering an impact of beauty beyond compare.
The first impression was simply beauty itself. He hadn't even clearly made out her features yet, but the concept of "beauty" had already implanted itself in his mind before anything else, as if failing to describe her that way would be some unforgivable sacrilege.
The urge to hear her voice, to gaze upon her face, to touch her skin, such an overwhelming longing surged within the prince's chest...
Wait. Why did this feeling seem so familiar? He vaguely recalled experiencing something like this a few months ago.
Oh, for crying out loud. Love at first sight, again?
Faust let out an exasperated laugh. Even the Wheel of Fate weaving the [Witch's Feast] had apparently cut corners this time, reusing material straight up.
You couldn't even be bothered to change it up a little before trying to fool me again!
Once someone had already awoken from Fate's grip, breaking free a second time came far more easily. And with the sense of deja vu hitting this strongly, Faust practically snapped back to clarity the very next second after getting hit.
Still, this was for the best. Faust wouldn't end up like that time with Viviana, sinking helplessly into the whirlpool without even realizing it, needing to be locked in a basement and taught a brutal, unforgettable lesson just to tell the difference between an ordinary girl and a witch.
So this one... must be the [Snow White] of the Kingdom of Wintertide? He'd assumed it would take some real effort to track her down, or that by the time he finally met Snow White, she'd already be lying in a crystal coffin.
Thinking this, Faust reined in his anger and sheathed his weapons.
The Frostwalker, which had been braced for battle, saw Faust suddenly stand down and immediately ramped up its processing power trying to analyze his intentions, utterly unable to figure out what he was doing.
But it didn't dare act rashly either. The deep-rooted code protecting Snow White kept the Frostwalker rooted firmly in place.
"All right, can't you see he's already backed off?"
Selena patted the Frostwalker's shoulder, letting out a light laugh.
"So, you're the one who killed his horse just now?"
"I selected the nearest large beast that most closely matched the criteria. Based on my analysis, that beast should belong to this human male."
The Frostwalker answered the princess's question, seeing nothing wrong with what it had done.
Despite possessing near-human intelligence, the Frostwalker, in the end, still lacked any genuine human sense of morality.
Faust rested one hand on his sword hilt, lifting his head to look at the black-haired girl, and asked:
"Are you this puppet's owner? Why did you kill my horse?"
Though he'd already recognized her identity through the illusion of love at first sight, he was well versed in how Fate's script worked by now. There were still steps he had to go through, whether he liked it or not.