'They are here... just as expected.'

Clay recalled the seven main characters that fought alongside the novel's main hero—Axel Hillkind.

The first two of them played a significant role. They are the first two people closest to the hero's heart, the first people when Axel is at his weakest.

They are Effelia Eldenhart, a banished half-elven princess possessing an unrivaled potential in light and illusionary magic, and Kled Fletcher, a young sharpshooter with an exceptional eye that lets him shoot at unbelievable range and accuracy.

Without dwelling on how Axel and the two became companions—and the touchy friendship stuff Clay wouldn't like to recall—Clay knew the trio resided in a remote village in the northwest corner of the Durkton territory.

The Enn Village. It's a small, isolated village with little feudal support.

Although it belongs to the Durkton territory, it has been neglected and forgotten by the rest of the civilized world due to its secluded location. Moreover, they wouldn't dare to cross the monster-filled Glimp Forest surrounding the Enn Village to give the folks proper support.

Currently, however, that village is facing a devastating crisis.

Recently, a strange disease has been spreading among villagers. A disease Clay could tell is similar to Black Death in terms of symptoms.

Thus far, about half of the villagers are affected—with a quarter of the population confirmed as deceased.

The victims are not limited to humans; their crops, livestock, and the native creatures of the forest were also severely affected.

Effelia, who had some experience in medical alchemy, has concluded it came from corrupted trees that had once served as a food source for the villagers. And this corruption seems to spread across the forest over time.

To prevent these further, they need an artifact that defies blight—a divine relic.

In the novel, divine relics are the rarest among the artifacts.

In the Kingdom alone, only the Durktons possessed one—and it was the revered Sword of the Sun.

And for today's awaited Sword Ceremony held in the Durktons estate, the three hooded figures determined to sneak the sword out of the highly-guarded stronghold as a final resort to save the remaining villagers.

'But it's all in vain,' thought Clay regretfully. 'The sword was only a replica. It only retained a divine energy a tenth of its former self—certainly not enough to restore even a few corrupted trees.'

Clay hopes to use this information to keep him from the hero's retribution—and potentially save lives as he does so.

Clay could only sigh as he leaned on a throne-like seat on a raised dais overseeing the duels held in the courtyard.

"Hmm... Hoky. What is this that came to me that you moved my sword to the lower armory?" came a rough, aged voice next to Clay.

It came from Count Durkton, who also sat on a throne-like seat but much higher in elevation.

The Count appeared to Clay as an aged man of gray hair and horseshoe mustache, dressed in fine linen, with a Herculean build despite the novel's description of the man as a former grand knight in his past glory.

The same goes for Defense Minister Groivan beside the Count, who is a tad smaller in shape but still has an aura of a formidable fighter. The Defense Minister appeared sleek and blonde, like an old royalty straight out of a Western book, which did not surprise Clay.

As the Count waited for a response, he yawned while he watched the recurring fights below him. And so did the Defense Minister.

'As expected, Gil must have told the Count of my demand last night.'

Clay had learned something about Horus yesterday.

It is forbidden for Horus to show his presence in any events Count Durkton would initiate. Be it a family celebration or a simple festivity, Horus was prohibited.

The novel did not confirm this, but Clay concluded this was the case based on the murmurs and hearsays of the maids on his stroll yesterday.

They even revealed that it was akin to a miracle that the Count allowed Horus to study in a proper, formal academy.

'The Count must have despised Horus for being a dullint—born without a mana core. And to be a dullint in a distinguished aristocratic family is to be a stain on one's cloth.'

Although Clay had no intention of learning about these family matters, he admitted knowing a thing or two could help him save his face in the future.

After all, he was now Horus, whether he liked it or not.

Clay recalled Gil's warning to him minutes ago.

'You are to be with the Count in Luther's stead. Your older brother is out for an expedition, after all. So, do act carefully, ahem...'

"Hmm... A reason, if I recall? Do tell me what it is," resumed the Count, restating his question into demand.

Clay, however, did not answer.

Clay instead latched his sleepless eyes on the clashing below him, around the crowd and corners, waiting for something that should unfold by now.

"You will know why anytime now..."

"Hmm?"

The Count did not expect such a disrespectful reply—certainly not from a dullint he sheltered and fared out of his will.

Holding off his temper, the Count huffed as he turned to Clay with disdainful, glaring eyes.

"Such insolent—" muttered the Count halfway, only to get interrupted by a sudden commotion.

"Help!" a voice called from a distance.

It came from a pair of wounded knights limping, shouting at the top of their lungs. They came from the great hall with bolts and burns on their armor.

"An intruder! Inform the division! Toll the bell!"

The uproar alerted knights. It set off a wave of whispers among the onlookers as the fighters stopped their clashes, looking around in bewilderment at the source of the noise.

"What is going on?" asked the Defense Minister as he stood in his seat.

While all the eyes were busy around him, Clay quickly snuck behind and headed downstairs unnoticed.

As Clay rushed downward, every time his eyes met the slits on the walls, his eyes would instinctively peek.

'Should I go west? The central hall? The dining? Wait, it should be around the eastern wing.'

His mind raced as he retrieved the location of the secret passage the trio used to escape.

Clay recalled it was an underground route around the eastern wing—where Luther's chambers reside—and the shortest path to get there would require Clay to break into a window or two.

Clay soon reached the castle's stretching balcony, leading to the eastern chambers. He oversaw a horde of incoming knights below him.

However, Clay was dumbfounded by what he next witnessed.

A hooded man plunged from a distance—into the entrance where the courtyard and the great hall met.

It was a young man with a leather cloak and a mask below his emerald eyes. On his hands were a pair of obsidian blades that burned black, emanating a strange aura that even Clay from afar could sense.

And that lethal figure stood in the way of the incoming knights at the great hall's entrance.

'What the...' thought Clay, halting as he gaped at the sight. 'What is the hero doing there?'

"Move, or we'll make a path out of your blood!" The captain among the knights warned the hooded figure.

"Make me," taunted the hero, his uncanny blades spread open as if they looked like a pair of wings covering the wide path.

Composing himself, the captain raised his sword and pointed it at the hooded figure, who remained unmoved. "You're making a big mistake, young man. Step aside, for we have no time to waste on you!"

"Heh." A sly smirk. It formed on the hero's lips.

The knight, who just understood his words were futile, soon enveloped his sword with a layer of frost. "We then dance," he whispered, then lunged in swift footwork.

"Don't."

It was the only word from Axel before he swung his blades in a single sweep, projecting a crescent of black energy toward the incoming knight.

Sizzle.

The captain tried to cut through it with his blade, but it failed. The blaze gushed and melted his sword like butter. The silver armor covering him that should nullify even the most potent mana dissolved halfway, causing the man to scream in pain.

"Arghhh!"

They couldn't believe it. The knights and the onlookers almost belched as the waft of burned flesh filled the gray air.

It was the moment everyone realized the severity of this commotion.

The deemed strongest among the Durkton knights, the ice swordmage that rivaled most knights in the Kingdom, dropped on his knee, screaming in agony with his eyes puffing red.

The scene made the onlookers, the nobles and clueless young men, speechless.

Still unmoving as a mountain, Axel repeats with his head lowered, now with a hint of warning, "Don't."

'What a damn sight.'

It was Clay's only comment upon witnessing it all.

In the novel, Axel reveals himself to stall for his two companions as they escape. It was a bold move, considering the Durkton estate is a stronghold of knights.

However, something more concerns Clay.

'This is how Horus Durkton died.'