E-Rantel.
Before the first light of dawn could break, Gazef Stronoff was already on the move.
The surviving soldiers of his warrior band were still in the process of recovery.
His memories of the battle at Carne Village remained fractured and disconnected.
His body was heavy with exhaustion from the undead crisis in E-Rantel and the subsequent clash with the cultists.
Yet, Gazef could no longer afford to linger.
He had to return to the Royal Capital.
What had transpired in E-Rantel was no mere monster sighting.
Zurrernorn.
The followers of Shub-Niggurath.
Nivs.
Iel.
The White Angel.
The Thousand Kingdom.
Those names surfaced in his mind one by one, like pieces of a grim puzzle.
And above all else...
The news that a treaty had been established with the Thousand Kingdom back in the capital.
Gazef still could not remember exactly what had happened to him at Carne Village.
But his body knew.
He had encountered something immense.
He had drawn his sword.
He had prepared for death.
He had watched his subordinates fall.
And then, there was nothing.
The center of his memory was hollow, as if it had been carved out by a blade.
That void felt more ominous than any nightmare.
Standing before the warrior band's barracks, Gazef surveyed his men.
"Only those who can move will follow me. The wounded are to remain in E-Rantel and continue their treatment."
One soldier spoke up, his teeth gritted in determination.
"Captain, I'm coming as well."
Gazef looked at the bandages wrapped around the man's arm.
Blood was already beginning to seep through the white fabric.
"No. If you mount a horse now, your wounds will reopen."
"But..."
"It is an order."
The soldier bit his lip, frustrated.
Eventually, he bowed his head.
"...Understood, sir."
In the end, the force heading to the capital with Gazef was small.
Only a portion of the warrior band prepared their horses.
Armor was hastily repaired.
Spears and swords were checked once more.
Cracks in shields were temporarily bound, and saddles were damp with the morning dew.
The guards of E-Rantel opened the city gates.
Creak.
The heavy gates slowly parted.
A thick morning mist still clung to the ground.
Gazef mounted his horse.
He paused for a moment to look back.
The fortress city of E-Rantel.
The place that had nearly become a city of the dead last night.
Thousands of undead had risen.
The crest of the Black Goat had threatened to turn the city into a sacrificial altar.
And a purple-haired mage had stopped it all.
The city saved by Iel.
Yet, it was a place where the traces of deep darkness still lingered.
Gazef murmured softly to himself.
"Iel... the mage of Sylvania."
He did not know who she was.
He had never heard of a place called Sylvania.
He did not understand the nature of her power.
But at the very least, she had saved E-Rantel.
She had protected the citizens.
And she had stood before the White Angel.
He remembered the words that angel had spoken.
We are authority. We are the absolute power that has come in place of the Great Tomb of Nazarick.
Gazef tightened his grip on the reins.
He didn't fully comprehend the meaning behind those words.
However, he knew instinctively.
That angel was no mere monster.
The faction she belonged to was no simple foreign nation.
They intended to stand above the order of this world.
The Kingdom.
The King.
The people.
Everything they knew might be nothing more than pieces on their game board.
He had to inform the capital.
King Ramposa III.
Marquis Raeven.
As quickly as possible.
Gazef looked straight ahead.
"Move out!"
He shouted.
The sound of hooves thundered against the dawn road.
The warrior band left E-Rantel and galloped toward the capital.
The road was still quiet.
Dawn mist lay low over the fields.
In the distance, smoke began to rise from the chimneys of farmhouses.
The peasants had not yet begun their day, and dew clung to the grass by the roadside.
But Gazef's heart was heavy.
The capital would not be peaceful.
The Thousand Kingdom had already set foot there.
There were rumors that the Young Guard was making its move.
Since the demonic disturbance in the capital, the balance between the nobles and the royal faction had been shaken.
In E-Rantel, a new Adamantite-rank powerhouse named Iel had emerged.
The White Angel had spared Nivs, even though she could have killed him.
Every event seemed to move independently, yet Gazef could feel it.
They were all connected.
Somewhere.
Someone.
Someone was turning the entire Kingdom into a single battlefield.
And he might already be too late.
Gazef gritted his teeth.
"Faster!"
The horses of the warrior band increased their pace.
Hoofbeats rang out violently against the dirt road.
Gazef's cloak billowed in the dawn wind.
His body was still heavy.
The memories of Carne remained a void.
The fatigue from E-Rantel lingered in his very bones.
But he did not stop.
Gazef Stronoff was the Warrior Captain of the Kingdom.
Even if his memories were severed.
Even if his body felt like it would break.
Even if he had witnessed the clash of gods.
Even if he had heard the words 'absolute power.'
His duty remained unchanged.
Protect the King.
Protect the Kingdom.
Protect the people.
That single, simple oath was what kept him charging forward.
Gazef Stronoff rode toward the capital with his men.
The dawn was breaking.
But over the capital where he was headed, a darkness deeper than night was already descending.
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