Bloodstained Valley, Alliance Army Main Camp.
Terrifying news spread faster than the plague.
“Have you heard?”
“The Osland Legion was completely wiped out.” A soldier lowered his voice.
His eyes darted nervously.
“One hundred thousand men, all dead in a single night.” Another soldier chimed in, his wine cup trembling in his hand.
“No sound, no movement at all.”
“They just died quietly like that.”
The soldiers gathered around the campfire.
The orange flames flickered on their pale faces. Everyone spoke in hushed tones. Afraid that raising their voices might attract some ill omen.
“I heard it from the front-line scouts.”
“The bodies had no external injuries.”
An old veteran with a stubbled face spoke shakily.
“It’s as if they died in their sleep.”
“This isn’t something humans could do.”
A young soldier beside him shook his head, his voice choked with tears. “It’s the work of demons.”
“What demons?” Someone asked.
The old soldier glanced around to ensure no one else was nearby before lowering his voice further:
“Blood Princess Avira.”
“They say she silently harvests lives, and wherever she passes, not a blade of grass survives.”
Fear spread through the camp.
The morale of the once high-spirited million-strong army had plummeted to rock bottom.
In the Lorian Kingdom’s camp, the situation was even worse.
“Your Majesty, the soldiers have started deserting.” A general hurried into the royal tent.
“Three thousand slipped away just last night.”
King of Lorian was a man in his fifties. His once majestic beard now appeared disheveled.
He sat in the tent, gripping his hands so tightly that his knuckles turned white.
“Send people to pursue.” He squeezed out the words between clenched teeth. “They can’t be caught.”
The general smiled bitterly. “They run faster than rabbits, terrified that a moment’s delay means death.”
King of Lorian remained silent for a long while.
The candlelight flickered, casting unstable shadows on his face.
Finally, he let out a long sigh. “Make arrangements. I want to see His Holiness the Pope.”
***
In the central command tent of Pope Uther VII.
The atmosphere was suffocatingly heavy.
“Your Holiness.” King of Lorian entered and immediately knelt on the ground. “Please order a retreat.”
Uther VII sat on his chair.
The “First Ray of Light” in his hand emitted a faint glow. He looked up at the kneeling king. His eyes showed no emotion.
“A retreat?”
“Yes.”
King of Lorian’s voice trembled.
“We’re not facing an enemy, but a demon.” “One hundred thousand elite knights died silently overnight.”
“This goes beyond the scope of normal warfare.”
“My soldiers have started to mutiny.”
“If this continues, the entire army will collapse.”
Uther VII remained silent.
The relic in his hand dimmed further. In the darkness, it looked pale and powerless.
“Your Majesty, do you remember why we came here?”
King of Lorian continued. “We came to save the Holy Body, not to send ourselves to death.”
“If our entire army is wiped out, who will save the Holy Body?”
Uther VII finally spoke. “Lorian, do you really think this is an enemy attack?”
The king was stunned. “What do you mean?”
“I’ve been thinking.” Uther VII stood and paced inside the tent.
“If the blood clan wanted to annihilate us, why not fight face-to-face?”
“Why resort to such strange tactics?” “And have you noticed?”
“Every attack happens at midnight, completely silent.”
“This feels more like a selection process than a massacre.” King of Lorian’s eyes widened.
The pope’s words made him dizzy.
“You mean…”
“The Holy Body is screening us.” Uther VII’s voice grew fervent.
A holy flame burned in his eyes.
“She is eliminating those whose faith is not strong enough.”
“Only the most devout and pure warriors can approach her.”
The king felt his worldview shatter completely.
“But… but those knights who died were devout believers.”
“Not devout enough.”
Uther VII shook his head with absolute certainty.
“If they were truly devout, they wouldn’t have died.”
“The Holy Body’s trial is perfectly just.”
“She can see through the deepest stains of every soul.”
King of Lorian opened his mouth. He wanted to argue, but in the end, said nothing. He realized he couldn’t refute the pope’s logic. Because it was perfectly self-consistent.
As long as you believe Sylvia is the Holy Body, then everything she does is right. Even killing ten thousand men. It’s all to filter out the most suitable rescuers.
“What should we do now?” King of Lorian asked.
“Keep moving forward.” Uther VII’s voice regained firmness. “Pass the Holy Body’s trial.” “Prove that our faith is pure enough.”
***
Meanwhile, in Nightfall City. A row of exquisite bookshelves appeared at the entrance of Sylvia’s bedchamber. They were filled with all kinds of storybooks.
Adventurous Knight, Princess and Dragon, Magic Forest Adventure…
Each beautifully bound, their covers made from the most expensive magical beast leather — clearly custom-made at great expense.
“What’s this?” Sylvia blinked as she looked at the shelves.
The head maid respectfully replied: “Your Majesty, the Queen prepared these for you.”
“She thought you’ve been daydreaming alone lately.”
“You might need some interesting reading to lift your spirits.”
Sylvia cursed inwardly. “I’m daydreaming because I’m bored, not because I lack entertainment!”
“And these fairy tales… how old do you think I am?”
But she didn’t dare show it, only obediently nodded. “Hm, mother is very thoughtful.”
She casually picked up a copy of Knight Slays the Dragon and opened to the first page.
“Once upon a time, there was a brave knight who vowed to slay every evil dragon in the world…”
Sylvia read a few lines before feeling nauseous. How could she have liked such childish plots back then? Her younger self had been so ridiculously naive.
Saving the world, justice always prevailing—it was all nonsense. Reality had no such clear lines between black and white.
Just as she was about to close the book, the door was pushed open. Avira bounced in.
Today, she wore a white little dress. She looked pure and cute, but Sylvia knew what was hidden beneath that appearance.
“Sis! Are you reading storybooks?”
Avira’s blood-red eyes instantly lit up when she saw the book in Sylvia’s hands.
“Great! I knew you needed some fun stories!” Sylvia’s inner alarm bells rang loudly.
Avira’s excited expression usually meant someone was going to be in trouble. Big trouble.
“Sis, I was just flipping through…”
“Don’t be modest!”
Avira plopped down on the bed, scooting close to Sylvia.
“You know what? I just made up an awesome story last night!”
“It’s called A Thousand Knights’ A Thousand Ways to Die!”
“It’s super good! Want me to tell you?”
Sylvia nearly jumped out of her skin. What kind of story was that? It was clearly a murder manual!
“No no no! Sis, I’m sleepy! I want to sleep!”
She hurriedly closed the book and snuggled under the covers. “It’s really good!”
Avira was not giving up, her voice brimming with excitement.
“The first knight was slashed across the neck by my sword, blood splattered three feet high…”
“Sis!”
Sylvia poked her head out of the blanket, eyes pleading.
“Please, just let me sleep quietly.”
Avira saw her sister’s pitiful expression and immediately softened.
“Alright, alright, you sleep first.”
“But little sis, I think those fairy tales are too fake.”
“Knights slaying dragons, princesses being rescued, it’s all lies.”
“Real stories should be more thrilling, more authentic.” Sylvia shivered under the blanket.
Avira’s idea of “real” and “thrilling” usually meant rivers of blood.
“I’ll bring you a few real knights tomorrow, so you can see what real adventure stories are like.”
Avira said excitedly, her eyes flashing with a dangerous gleam.
“Guaranteed to be ten thousand times more interesting than those fake stories!”
“And they’ll be alive too!”
After saying this, she kissed Sylvia’s forehead and hopped out of the room. Sylvia was utterly hopeless beneath the covers.
“Oh no, oh no, someone’s going to be in trouble again tomorrow.”
“I just want to quietly read a storybook. Why is that so hard?” She turned over and buried her face in the pillow. The soft silk pillow absorbed her tears.
“Please, just let me be a quiet waste…”
“I really just want to lie down and do nothing…”
Outside the window, the Blood Moon still hung high. On the distant battlefield, the terrifying legend continued to spread.
And at the source of it all, someone was already excitedly anticipating tomorrow’s “entertainment.”
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Has the pope gone mad, or has he got another purpose, sacrificing all the holy knights?