Kingdom of Osland, Knight’s Pinnacle Edheim.
The morning toll of the death bell echoed through the entire city, heavy enough to break one’s heart.
“Griffinwing Knights, three thousand elite troops, completely wiped out.”
The Dean of Griffin Academy’s voice was hoarse as he gripped a shattered battle flag in his hand.
That was the only relic recovered from last night.
Thousands of young knights knelt on the stone steps below, removing their helmets and holding them over their chests.
“Dean… did they really all die?”
A trainee, no older than seventeen or eighteen, asked in a trembling voice.
“No bodies have been found,” the Dean closed his eyes, despair weighing down his voice.
“But neither were there any survivors.”
“Three thousand knights, three thousand griffins, just vanished beneath the Blood Moon.”
Fear spread through the crowd.
That was the kingdom’s most elite aerial force.
Each knight was a prodigy selected from tens of thousands.
Overnight, the kingdom lost a third of its air power.
“Dean, do we still have to go to the frontlines?”
Another trainee asked, his voice shaking.
The Dean was silent for a long moment before finally nodding.
“Yes, we must go.”
“This is the honor and duty of a knight.”
But his voice lacked its usual firmness.
It was instead filled with helplessness and tragic resolve.
Meanwhile, at nightfall in Nightfall City, inside Sylvia’s bedchamber.
She hugged a fluffy pillow, tossing and turning on her soft, large bed.
“Ugh… why am I so sleepy today?”
Sylvia let out a small yawn.
Her silver-white hair spilled over the silk pillow.
She had no idea that during the twelve hours she slept peacefully,
three thousand elite Alliance soldiers had completely vanished from the world.
Countless families were weeping for lost loved ones.
The entire Kingdom of Osland had plunged into panic.
Outside the door, the head maid heard the little princess mumbling.
The princess’s poor sleep quality!
This was a matter of utmost importance!
She immediately took out the Crystal of Communication and quickly drafted a message.
“Urgent: Little princess is sleep-deprived, mood may be affected.”
Less than three seconds after sending, a reply came through.
“Understood, will handle immediately.”
Sender: Her Majesty the Queen.
At the same time, in the Alliance Army’s main camp in the Bloodshed Valley.
Pope Uther VII stood inside the central tent facing the panicked generals.
“Your Majesty, the disappearance of the Griffinwing Knights is too mysterious!”
Bartholomew, captain of the Sword of Judgment Knights Legion, slammed the table heavily.
“This is definitely the blood clan’s dark magic!”
Xavier, captain of the Shield of Guardians Knights Legion, nodded in agreement.
“We should immediately retreat and revise our strategy.”
But Pope Uther VII shook his head.
“Gentlemen, you are mistaken.”
His voice was calm but his eyes held deep contemplation.
“The disappearance of the Griffinwing Knights is not an enemy provocation.”
“But a selection by the Holy Body.”
“Selection?”
Matthew, captain of the Purifying Light Knights, pushed up his glasses in confusion.
“Yes.”
Pope Uther VII nodded, his voice imbued with sacred solemnity.
“The Holy Body Sylvia has been imprisoned by the evil blood clan for too long. Her holy essence is awakening.”
“She is using her own way to weed out those in our ranks whose faith is not steadfast enough.”
“Only the most devout and pure warriors can approach her and rescue her.”
Everyone was stunned by this explanation.
But thinking it through, it made sense.
If it were an enemy attack, why leave no bodies behind?
If it were meant to intimidate the Alliance Army, why not make a bigger show?
The only logical explanation was that Holy Body Sylvia was actively selecting her rescuers.
“So what do we do now?”
Xavier asked.
“Continue forward.”
Uther stood, the “First Ray of Light” in his hand emitting a gentle glow.
“But be prepared.”
“The trials ahead will be even harsher.”
Night fell again.
***
Nightfall City, silent royal court upper chambers.
Avira had just finished bathing, her damp short hair clinging to her cheeks.
Wearing a loose nightgown and barefoot, she ran to Ophelia’s bedchamber.
“Mother! Last night’s game was so boring!”
Avira flopped into Ophelia’s arms, pouting.
“Three thousand people, and it ended before I even got warmed up.”
“No challenge at all.”
Ophelia gently stroked her daughter’s hair.
“That was just the appetizer.”
Her voice was soft, but Avira caught the meaning behind it.
“Really? There’s more fun to come?”
Avira’s eyes sparkled.
“Of course.”
Ophelia pointed outside the window.
“Tonight, I have prepared a new stage for you.”
“The Kingdom of Osland’s Knights Legion, one hundred thousand elite soldiers.”
“They call themselves the Flower of Everlasting Knights.”
Avira jumped up in excitement.
“One hundred thousand! Now this is interesting!”
“But Mother, can I try a different approach?”
“This time, I want to take it slow.”
Ophelia nodded.
“As you wish.”
“Just don’t disturb Sylvia’s sleep.”
While the mother and daughter planned how to “deal with” the hundred thousand soldiers, Sylvia was worried in her own room.
“What should I eat today?”
She sat before her dressing table, gazing at her reflection.
“Strawberry cake? Or chocolate pudding?”
“So troublesome, my indecision is acting up again.”
Outside the door, the head maid diligently recorded every word the little princess said.
These seemingly ordinary worries were top priorities for the entire empire.
Because the princess’s mood directly affected the queen and the crown princess’s state.
And their states directly impacted the course of this war.
Deep into the night.
The Knights Legion camp of the Kingdom of Osland was brightly lit.
One hundred thousand knights were spread across hundreds of camps, on high alert.
They were the Alliance Army’s mobile support force.
Each was a battle-hardened elite.
“Everyone, stay alert tonight.”
In one camp, the captain was addressing his troops.
“You’ve all heard about the Griffinwing Knights.”
“The enemy may try to strike us next.”
“Take turns standing watch. No lapses allowed.”
The knights nodded in agreement.
But they didn’t know that death had silently arrived.
Avira stood on a hill outside the camp, her blood-red eyes sweeping the sprawling encampment below.
The camps stretched for miles, campfires flickering like stars.
“Truly magnificent,” she whispered to herself.
“So many toys, enough for me to play with all night.”
She didn’t open her mental realm but drew the sword “Lament” from her waist.
Its blade reflected an eerie glow under the moonlight.
“Tonight, we play a quiet game.”
Avira licked her lips and vanished into the night.
The first camp.
A knight on watch suddenly felt a chill on his neck.
Looking down, blood was pouring from his throat.
He tried to cry out, but his vocal cords had been cut.
He could only watch his life ebb away before collapsing.
Avira moved silently between tents.
Each time she flashed, a knight silently fell.
Her movements were lighter than a mouse, her swordplay so precise it could cut a single strand of hair.
Most importantly, she was patient.
Calm and unhurried, taking them down one by one.
Relishing every moment of reaping life.
“One thousand,” Avira whispered beside a sleeping knight’s bed.
Her blade caressed his neck gently, like stroking a lover.
The knight died in his sleep, even wearing a smile.
“Two thousand.”
“Three thousand.”
“Five thousand.”
Avira grew more excited with every kill, but kept her voice low.
She remembered her mother’s words—not to disturb her sister’s sleep.
So she would be a silent reaper.
An elegant harvester.
As dawn approached, Avira finished with the last camp.
Standing on the hill, she looked down at the lifeless camp below and nodded with satisfaction.
“One hundred thousand, not a single one left.”
“And not a single sound was made.”
“My sister must be sleeping soundly.”
I imagine it like slaughtering an animal