Chapter 155: Lionheart Knights
Near Northwind Keep, at Zeraya Hills Secrecy.
Over twenty members of the Lionheart Knights stood in stealth, motionless, their heavy armors gleaming under the dim twilight. Their chest plates bore the fierce visage of a roaring lion—imposing, untamed—while crimson cloaks draped behind them, emblazoned with the Bosk Family’s emblem: two crossed swords entwined around a lion’s head.
One knight, eyes fixed on the sky as a wyvern patrolled above, shifted uneasily.
"Captain... we haven’t received Duke Leo’s signal yet. Could they have already failed?"
"Keep waiting, Jaden. We have time."
The voice was calm, unwavering.
The speaker stood apart from the others. A dark mane of lion’s mane curled around his neck, and his lion-head breastplate was more lifelike than any other—its eyes seemed to gleam with ancient fire. This was Fried Orbul, one of the original seven Knight Captains of the Lionheart Knights, known as the Black Lion Knight.
Now, only six remained. His closest friend, the White Lion Knight Tariq—raised with him like a brother—had fallen in that惨案. The loss had shattered him. Vowing revenge against the Red Dragon, he had volunteered for this mission: to strike at the heart of the Kingdom of Ashen.
"Tariq," Fried murmured, fingers brushing the pocket watch in his hand. "The evil dragon will soon fall. Your soul shall find peace in the divine realm."
The watch had been a gift from Tariq ten years prior. Engraved upon its face was the emblem of God of Heroes Haionis—a constant reminder to be fearless, to stand as a true warrior.
Jaden still fretted. They were deep within enemy territory. Safety was uncertain.
"But this is right on the edge of Northwind Keep. The patrols from the Kingdom of Ashen are relentless. I’m afraid—"
"Are you afraid we’ll be completely annihilated?" Fried asked, not unkindly.
"Then stay alert. Remember Lord Duke’s orders: if danger to life arises, we retreat—no matter the mission’s status."
Fried spoke with the certainty of a veteran. He knew this task was perilous—facing an enemy capable of destroying thirty thousand allied forces in the Purgatory Cataclysm. Yet, he repeated to himself: Believe. Hold fast. Survive. At least, come back whole.
"Yes, Captain."
"Wait—look! Is that… the signal Lord Duke mentioned?"
Far above, in the air, golden ripples flickered into existence—subtle, shimmering waves of light. Only a Paladin with Divine Perception could see them. The signal was confirmed. It meant the summoning was safe—undetected by the kingdom’s spies.
And then, faintly, from the distance, came the echo of a dragon’s roar—low, primal, drawing the attention of Ashenkin patrols.
"Could it be…?"
"Success?"
Fried’s face lit up—his usual composure cracked by sudden elation. Even the Black Lion Knight, ever unshaken, felt his pulse quicken. If the signal was real, then the Red Dragon was bound—or worse, dead. The immense shadow that had loomed over the Northern Kingdoms would finally vanish.
"Signal confirmed! This is our cue! Move to support the heroes!"
"Yes, Captain!"
Under the cover of the Invisibility Veil, the Lionheart Knights advanced swiftly along a pre-planned route—guided by terrain and enchanted concealment. Their passage was smooth, unimpeded. No Two-Headed Dragons, no Great Goblin legions. No ambush.
In less than half an hour, the stealthy figures reached the source of the signal—the dense, thriving forest.
"Captain… is this the place?"
"Likely. The signal originated here. My wisdom does not fail. The divine energy still lingers in the air."
"But why…"
"…is it so quiet?"
"I don’t know. Stay alert. Proceed with caution."
Fried had expected chaos. He had imagined fierce battles—heroes locked in combat with Ashen followers, pursued by swarms of Two-Headed Dragons, hunted by legendary warlords: Lanpu, the Man-Eating Wizard; Dolo, the Massacre Warlord; Jinya, the Gold-Devouring Maniac. The tales spoke of their relentless fury.
The other knights shared the same expectation. They gripped their silver swords and shields tightly, whispering the Holy Vow Spell again and again in their minds—preparing for battle, for sacrifice, for glorious death.
But the forest was silent.
Too silent.
Not a trace of battle remained. No bloodstains, no broken weapons, no scorched earth. Just the gentle rustle of leaves in the wind—so still it felt unnatural.
To Fried, a man who had seen countless wars, this silence was not peace. It was a trap. A lure.
And yet… only Duke Leo and Slaud knew the true meaning of the signal. If it was real… what then? If this was a false hope… what would become of him?
He would be the one who led heroes into a death trap. The betrayer of the brave.
The thought chilled him. Cold sweat beaded on his brow.
He wanted to be like Tariq—fearless, radiant, unyielding even before death. But Fried knew the truth: even as a famed Knight Captain of the Lionheart Knights, even after defeating hundreds, he had always felt… less than. His title, Black Lion Knight, was not earned solely by strength—much of it was owed to Tariq’s legacy, to years of friendship and favor.
"We must retreat," he finally decided.
To his trusted guards, he said, "Something’s wrong here. We pull back—immediately. Once we’re at the last safe position, I’ll open the portal I prepared. Everyone follows me."
"But the others we’re supposed to rescue?"
"Trust my instinct. We don’t have time. They may already be dead—devoured by the dragon. Or… the signal was sent in panic."
"Yes, Captain."
Without regard for the mission, the Lionheart Knights turned and fled—guided by their captain’s instinct, not duty.
The Invisibility Veil, crafted by the Court Mage, shimmered around them, bending light and shadow, concealing their forms. They moved like ghosts—unseen, unheard—past the patrols of Two-Headed Dragons and Great Goblins.
Just as they accelerated through the trees—
A colossal shadow fell from the sky.
The veil shattered. The light bent, twisted, and vanished.
Fried looked up, stunned, his breath caught in his throat.
(End of Chapter)
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