Vol. 1 / CH. 1 - Part 3

Two to three days had passed since the mysterious symbol appeared in the sky, hanging like an unspoken threat over the world. As the third day dawned with the symbol's absence, the world's inhabitants remained in a state of bewilderment and alertness.

Meanwhile...

At a fortress belonging to the Kingdom of Thufrim, located on the border with the Zuvia Empire, fierce battles raged over control of the fortress and its surrounding territory. Despite the intensity of the clashes, the number of troops engaged on both sides was relatively small.

Perched atop a hill, the border fortress provided a sweeping view of the lowlands below. Both the forces of the Zuvia Empire and the Kingdom of Thufrim had been locked in skirmishes, vying for dominance of this strategically significant location.

That morning, the sky remained cloaked in darkness as the rumble of war reverberated along the fortress walls. The rising sun cast its first light upon the earth, now veiled in dust and the thick smoke of battle. The Zuvia forces, their yellow banners billowing proudly, clashed with fervent determination against the Thufrim soldiers, who valiantly held the fortress under the shadow of their green standard.

Arrows and stones cut through the air, forming a lethal curtain that obstructed every advance towards the fortress. The clash of shields and swords rang out, and blood soaked the once-fertile ground. The battlefield was a grim dance of death, weaving together terror and bravery in equal measure.

Not long after, triumphant cheers erupted from the Zuvia forces as they breached the enemy's defenses and seized a crucial position on the fortress wall. Yet, their victory was fleeting; the Thufrim forces swiftly mounted a fierce counterattack, driving the Zuvia troops back to their original lines.

The Kingdom of Thufrim, in defense of their territory, had gathered a modest force of 450 soldiers, bolstered by a handful of mercenaries. On the other side, the Zuvian Empire, the aggressor in this conflict, had sent a contingent of 600 troops, similarly backed by hired fighters. Despite the relatively small scale of the engagement, the battlefield had already been stained with the blood of many fallen on both sides.

This war carried great significance for both nations. The borderlands had long been a prize coveted by both, and while the numbers involved were limited, the stakes were anything but. The absence of any prominent leaders or distinguished figures in the fray lent the conflict an air of ordinariness, masking the true weight of what was at risk.

Yet, the rewards of victory in this skirmish would be substantial. The triumphant side would not only expand their territory but also secure a crucial foothold at the border, enhancing their dominion over the contested region.

On the battlefield, the clamour of soldiers' footsteps and the clash of swords formed a chilling symphony of death. The battle cries, a discordant blend of yearning for victory and trembling fear of death, reverberated across the field. These sounds, integral to the border conflict, could be heard even from afar.

The ground was littered with an increasing number of corpses, and fresh red blood stained the earth, painting a grim tableau. Weapons, silent witnesses to the ferocious combat, lay scattered around, hinting at the deadly struggle. Severed limbs, strewn about, bore mute testimony to the savagery of swords and other sharp implements, intensifying the tragic horror of the battlefield.

The tide of battle favoured the Zuvia Empire. They had succeeded in breaching the Thufrim kingdom's defenses, leaving Thufrim in a perilous situation. Confronted with their dire circumstances, Thufrim faced a stark choice: surrender or retreat entirely. Victory seemed increasingly elusive.

Yet...

Despite their predicament, they resolutely held their ground, with no orders or signals to retreat. Although casualties mounted on both sides, the soldiers remained resolute, prepared to continue the fight unless one side opted to surrender.

The forces of the Zuvia Empire, bolstered by their courage and strategic prowess, had managed to dominate the battlefield. The advantage seemed clear as Zuvia's troops seized several key positions around the border fortress. Yet, the resolve of the Thufrim forces was far from negligible.

Despite the dire situation, the Kingdom of Thufrim remained steadfast in their determination to defend the fortress. Even though they were pushed back and had lost several outposts, they refused to surrender to the might of the Zuvia Empire's soldiers.

Meanwhile, behind Thufrim's lines, they awaited the arrival of hired mercenaries with bated breath. These reinforcements were viewed as crucial to turning the tide of battle. Reports suggested that help would arrive within five minutes.

As time dwindled, the soldiers of the Thufrim Kingdom fought with all their might, anxiously awaiting the arrival of reinforcements. The five minutes felt interminable amidst the cacophony of battle cries.

At the rear of Thufrim Kingdom's border fortifications, the fortress commander, a battle-hardened veteran, stood resolute among his tense troops. With a voice laced with both worry and anger, he called out to one of the soldiers stationed at the unbreached rear of the fort.

"You there! What's the situation?" he shouted, his voice cutting through the cold wind.

The soldier, positioned safely in the rear, responded in a hoarse voice, "The situation remains unchanged, Commander. The Zuvian forces continue their relentless assault, and we still have no sign of reinforcements."

"This is bad!" the commander snapped; his voice thick with urgency. "Don't they understand how vital this assistance is for us? We can't hold out much longer without help!"

A brave soldier stepped forward, attempting to calm the tense atmosphere. "Commander, perhaps we should consider retreating. If we stay, we risk losing even more men. Their strength is overwhelming."

But the fortress leader's resolve was unshakable, his eyes blazing with determination. "No! We will stand our ground until the last drop of blood! We will not yield to them!"

"WHERE IS OUR REINFORCEMENT?!" the commander roared, his voice echoing with frustration and urgency.

"They should be arriving any moment now, sir!" one of the soldiers responded.

"HOW MUCH LONGER MUST WE WAIT?! We've already lost so many men, and our situation is growing increasingly desperate!"

"What should we do, sir?"

"WE MUST HOLD OUR GROUND, OF COURSE! I refuse to surrender here, especially not if it means a complete retreat."

"But… given our current state… w-we can't possibly win—"

"ARE YOU SUGGESTING WE RETREAT?!"

"I-I-I… Yes…"

"YOU FOOL!" The commander slammed his fist hard onto the wooden table, his anger unmistakable. "Even though we're in a losing position now, I will not surrender so easily! This battle may seem insignificant to our superiors back in the kingdom, but for us here, it's everything!"

The leader of the Thufrim Border Fortress fell into a heavy silence. He sank into a wooden chair, rubbing his temples in an effort to stave off the encroaching headache, and drew a deep breath, trying to steady himself. Yet, the tension within him remained stubbornly unrelenting.

His gaze, burning with unyielding resolve, met that of a soldier who had dared to voice his doubts. "We must retreat, Commander! We can't hold out much longer!" the soldier implored; his face etched with a desperate resignation.

The commander's eyes narrowed into a steely glare. "We will not retreat! We will defend this fortress until the last drop of blood!"

Amid the intense debate, the thunderous clash of weapons grew louder, signaling the enemy's advance. Their forces were being driven back, yet the commander remained resolute, adamant about holding their position until the bitter end.

The soldier was not ready to yield. Despite the commander's fierce gaze, he stood his ground. "Commander, I understand your position as our leader, but you must also heed the voices of those of us on the front lines! We can't continue like this!"

The commander shook his head sharply, his eyes still burning with fury. "Retreat is not an option! We are soldiers of the Kingdom of Thufrim, and we will stand firm until the last drop of blood!"

"Commander, I'm not suggesting a cowardly retreat, but we need to reconsider our strategy! We must find a different approach to handle this situation!" the soldier implored, his voice trembling with urgency.

The commander, however, remained resolute. "We will hold our ground and wait for reinforcements! I refuse to let this fortress fall into enemy hands!" His voice cut through the din of battle, echoing with determination.

The soldier bit his lip, frustrated by his inability to sway the commander. Despite his logical argument, the commander's stubbornness left little room for discussion. Time was running short, and the enemy was closing in, leaving them no choice but to brace for the next wave of attacks.

As the argument raged on, the sound of hurried footsteps approached from the back entrance of the fortress. A sweating soldier burst into the room, his face a mixture of relief and exhaustion.

"Commander, I bring good news!" he shouted, breathless.

The commander turned abruptly; his face still taut with tension. "What's the news?" he demanded urgently.

"Fifty mercenaries have been spotted on the horizon; they're approaching the rear entrance!" the soldier reported, his voice edged with a restrained triumph.

At the news, the commander's demeanor visibly softened. His eyes sparkled with renewed hope beneath the flickering torchlight. "Prepare for their arrival immediately! Tell them to enter as soon as they reach the gate and get the defenses ready!"

The soldiers around them moved swiftly, weapons at the ready as they organized to receive the reinforcements. The commander strode toward the rear entrance, his gaze fixed on the darkening sky as dusk approached.

This was their opportunity to turn the tide and defend their fortress. But the question lingered: would fifty mercenaries be enough to change the course of the battle?

As the commander prepared to welcome the reinforcements, a sense of unease spread among the soldiers. One of them, a battle-worn warrior, stepped forward.

"Darnell," he called out, his voice tinged with frustration.

The commander glanced over, his brow furrowing slightly. "What is it, Falkner? We're in the middle of something."

Falkner exhaled sharply, his eyes burning with discontent. "We were promised 100 mercenaries, not just 50. Where are the rest of our reinforcements?"

The commander's expression hardened, his temper flaring. "This is neither the time nor the place for a numbers debate, Falkner! We need to concentrate on the fight that's coming!"

"How are we supposed to trust our superiors if they can't even deliver on their promises?" Falkner shot back; his tone sharp with anger.

Other soldiers began murmuring in agreement, their expressions reflecting the same sense of betrayal. They felt deceived by empty promises and uncertain of their leaders' reliability.

The commander scanned the anxious faces of his troops, striving to ease the mounting tension. "We all know how dire our situation is. The most crucial thing now is our unity—facing the enemy together, no matter how grim things may seem."

Yet, a lingering sense of disillusionment cast a shadow over the soldiers, heightening the already thick tension in the air.

Falkner fixed the commander with a look of profound dissatisfaction. "But what good is unity if our superiors can't even keep their promises, Darnell?"

The commander's face darkened with fury as he stepped closer. "How dare you question our superiors' decisions, Falkner? They are our leaders and are expected to know what's best for us!"

Murmurs rippled through the ranks, the soldiers' disquiet becoming increasingly evident. Several voices rose in dissent, criticizing the decisions of their leaders and adding to the growing sense of unease.

"Enough!" the commander's voice rang out, cutting through the din of battle. "Now is not the time for arguments. We must focus on the enemy before us!"

Falkner remained resolute. "But we can't ignore the reality, Darnell! The reinforcements we were promised fall short of what we need."

The commander fixed Falkner with a piercing stare, his patience wearing thin. "You have no right to keep complaining! We must stand united and hold our ground, no matter the odds!"

As the argument continued, it became clear that the soldiers' frustration was far from resolved. The growing discord threatened to undermine their unity, just as the impending clash with the enemy loomed ever closer.

Darnell, their leader, took a deep breath, his eyes reflecting deep disappointment. "I understand your frustration, my friends. We were all promised adequate reinforcements, but reality has fallen short of both our expectations and what was assured."

The tension among them eased slightly as the soldiers absorbed their leader's acknowledgment.

"I, too, share your anger and disappointment with our superiors' deceit," he continued, his voice softening. "But now isn't the time for blame. We must concentrate on what we can do to survive."

A few soldiers nodded, their expressions still marked with dissatisfaction, yet a flicker of resolve began to surface.

"We must remain united as one force, even if we didn't get what we expected," the leader continued, his voice steady as he sought to bolster his soldiers' spirits. "Now, we need to prepare for the arrival of the reinforcements. We still have a chance to turn the tide, but only if we stand together."

Despite his words, the tension in the air was palpable. The soldiers had felt the sting of betrayal from their superiors, and their disappointment and doubt were not easily dispelled. Only time would reveal whether their unity could withstand this test.

Further down the road leading to the rear of Thufrim's border fortress, seven horse-drawn wagons appeared in formation. Five of them carried mercenaries, while the remaining two transported emissaries from the Kingdom of Thufrim who had arranged their hire. Each wagon held at least ten seasoned fighters.

Among them, one figure stood out—not just a warrior, but a Knight. A Knight of great renown, strength, and experience.

------------------------------------------

The clashing of swords rang out sharply, filling the air with echoes of valor and tension. The sound reverberated through the area, infusing every corner with a fiery courage and a palpable sense of suspense.

I had grown accustomed to it, day in and day out. Beyond the clang of steel, the shouts of the soldiers at the fortress were just as clear. These were the heroes sworn to defend their kingdom, even at the cost of their lives. Their cries—full of spirit, triumph, and a hint of fear—echoed through the passing hours, a constant reminder of the stakes we faced.

Now, I sit in a horse-drawn wagon with nine other mercenaries, hired by the Kingdom of Thufrim to reinforce the battle lines at a fortress on the border between Thufrim and Zuvia.

My body is encased in a silver suit of armor, shielding every inch from the enemy's blows. My knight's helmet, also forged from iron, guards my head from harm. With this armor, I feel secure against the slashes of swords and the piercing arrows, though I remain vulnerable to the crushing force of blunt weapons.

My weapon is a longsword that has served me faithfully for the past year. Though it bears no special name or extraordinary powers, it remains my trusted companion on the battlefield. Alongside it, I carry a sturdy knight's shield, resilient against various assaults and crucial for my defense at the front lines.

At my waist, I carry a pouch containing several healing and antidote potions, as well as two daggers. This modest array of equipment is ample for the challenges ahead, without adding unnecessary weight. With these preparations and weapons, I am poised to face the battle.

The situation is bewildering. According to the reports, our forces number only 450 soldiers, while the enemy boasts 600. Even more puzzling is the absence of any prominent figures in this conflict. Isn't a border skirmish always a critical moment for the kingdom?

I find myself wondering why both kingdoms have opted to deploy such meager forces and why no distinguished leaders are directly engaging in the battle. Why have they chosen to employ mercenaries instead of mobilizing their own royal armies?

I accepted this contract because the compensation is enough to support me. With this payment, I can afford to buy food without draining my savings. I am not fighting for glory or renown, but for my own survival.

I am convinced that many here share a similar motive. Not everyone, of course, but the majority.

Now, let us turn our attention to the people traveling with me in this carriage. There are ten of us in total, myself included. We are all mercenaries hired by the Kingdom of Thufrim to aid in this battle. I observe my surroundings with careful scrutiny, trying to assess and understand my fellow mercenaries.

They are largely similar to one another, with the primary difference being their equipment. I am outfitted in full knight's armor, while the others wear more modest gear.

Each one is equipped with iron armor to protect their bodies, though none have armor for their arms or legs. None are wearing helmets. Their gear is simple but adequate for mercenaries of their type.

Each carries a sword. Two wield longswords, while the others have standard-sized swords. Additionally, two of them bear small shields on their left arms. Their belongings are minimal. I notice small pouches at their waists, similar to mine. I suspect these pouches contain items similar to my own—perhaps healing potions, though I am unsure of their quantity or strength.

Their physiques are impressively muscular, clearly indicating remarkable physical strength.

Despite this, their demeanor is calm and composed. None appear fearful, nor are they overly confident. They are all deeply focused, with little movement or conversation.

In this skirmish, it seems that victory is not the primary goal for these mercenaries. Their main hope is simply to survive. Based on the information we've received, I'm convinced they are not aiming for victory but only striving to endure until the end.

After observing the mercenaries in the carriage with me, I bowed my head to clear my thoughts and waited patiently for our arrival at the battlefield. I took a slow breath and exhaled, letting my mind wander— "I hope this doesn't drag on and that bloodshed remains minimal," I silently wished. Yet, casualties are an unavoidable part of any battle.

Suddenly, a mercenary's voice broke into my thoughts. "Hey," he said. I looked up to meet his gaze, which was sharp and seemed to carry some concern. Perhaps it was my armor, which resembled that of a royal knight. It's unusual for mercenaries to wear such armor, though there might be other reasons for his curiosity.

He stared at me, unblinking and silent. I waited patiently, my gaze calm and steady, allowing him to speak first.

After a few moments, he nodded with what seemed like genuine appreciation. "Your armor is impressive, friend," he said with a tone of admiration. I responded quickly with a grateful "Thank you."

It seemed he was merely trying to kill some time before we reached the battlefield. Engaging with fellow mercenaries could be advantageous. Building a good rapport might be useful for mutual support in the upcoming fight.

"From your armor, it doesn't seem very expensive," he remarked.

I answered candidly, "That's right, it's not particularly high-end."

"Where did you get it?" he inquired, his curiosity evident.

Without hesitation, I responded, "From one of the cities in the Kingdom of Albion. I'm afraid I can't recall the exact city."

"Oh, Albion. A place with strong religious connections. No wonder they venerate the Sacred Gods," he said.

"I'm not originally from there. I acquired this armor during an adventure in Albion, while on a quest from the Adventure Guild near one of the cities in the Kingdom of Albion," I explained.

"Are you a former adventurer?"

"Yes."

"What was your rank?"

"Gold."

My reply caused several mercenaries to cast sharp glances in my direction. Their expressions were serious, and their scrutiny was wordless but intense.

Noticing their attention, I attempted a friendly smile. However, as soon as I looked their way, they quickly turned their gaze away and fell silent again.

I felt a twinge of discomfort. I hoped I hadn't come across as rude. I returned my focus to the mercenary who had spoken.

He maintained his serious demeanor.

"Mm. You're quite impressive for your age," he said with a complimenting tone.

I lowered my head modestly. "I wouldn't say that. I still have a long way to go."

"But you must have significant experience, right?" he continued.

I remained silent, unable to find the right words.

"From your appearance, it's evident you're still young. Yet, achieving Gold rank as an adventurer at your age suggests you're quite formidable and experienced."

I struggled to find a response and could only manage a soft, "...Thank you."

"How old are you?" he asked again.

I answered honestly, "25 years old." There was no reason to conceal my age.

His question made a few of the other mercenaries glance my way briefly before returning to their previous focus.

"You're still quite young," he noted.

I remained silent, absorbing his words.

"At your age, having explored so many places, reached Gold rank, and now serving as a mercenary... You're truly impressive."

I was left speechless, my head bowing slightly.

"...Even my own child is younger than you," he added quietly, as if reflecting aloud rather than speaking directly to me.

I could only reply with a subdued, "...Thank you," while keeping my head lowered.

He leaned in slightly, bringing his face closer to mine. Then he asked, "Why did you stop being an adventurer and choose to become a mercenary?"

The other mercenaries shot me more intense, scrutinizing glances. They all waited expectantly for my response.

I braced myself to answer, taking a deep breath before slowly exhaling. I lifted my head, straightening my posture and drawing my chest out, striving to project confidence.

"There's no particular reason," I began. "I simply wanted to earn money more easily. Being a mercenary allows me to find both work and pay more quickly. Being an adventurer was far more challenging; the rewards were modest and the journeys long and exhausting. I'm not fighting for any special cause. I just need money to get by."

My response seemed to resonate with the other mercenaries, who nodded in understanding and relaxed their expressions.

The man who had asked the question nodded in satisfaction, settling back into a more relaxed posture. His demeanor softened from the earlier tension.

He sighed deeply and said, "Good... That's good... It's a relief to hear that."

I was somewhat puzzled by their reaction but chose to focus on answering their questions and engaging in conversation without delving further into their motivations.

------------------------------------------

A few minutes later.

"Reinforcements have arrived, sir!" shouted one of the soldiers loudly.

"Excellent! Lead me to them!" he commanded.

"YES, SIR!"

At the rear of the fort's entrance in the border region of the Kingdom of Thufrim, a group of about fifty mercenaries had gathered, ready to support the kingdom's troops in this critical battle. They busied themselves with preparing their weapons and gear, awaiting further instructions.

Emerging from within the fort was a commanding officer, stationed at this border post. His presence immediately drew the mercenaries' attention, halting their previous activities.

It was clear that he was the highest authority present, the sole figure with the power to direct them into battle. The mercenaries awaited his orders.

Standing tall with a serious demeanor and keen eyes, the officer scrutinized the new arrivals. He evaluated whether they were capable of contributing effectively to the defense and driving the enemy from the battlefield.

The fort's border defense leader stepped forward, his previously tense expression now softened into one of determination and encouragement. "Welcome, soldiers!" he called out, striving to imbue the moment with enthusiasm.

The fifty mercenaries responded with respectful nods to the commanding officer, demonstrating their readiness and allegiance.

"This is no time for idleness, comrades," the leader proclaimed with authority. "We face a formidable challenge now, and we must stand united. Prepare yourselves; we will confront the enemy together!"

The mercenaries swiftly readied their weapons, their eyes alight with steely determination and readiness for battle. They had come to this battlefield with a clear mission: to aid the Kingdom of Thufrim in defending its borders.

The commanding officer began to direct his troops, adjusting the defense strategy to integrate the newly arrived reinforcements.

"We will assault them with all our might!" he roared, inspiring a sense of urgency and resistance among his men. "We shall not yield to the enemy! Get ready, and defend this fort with all your strength!"

Both the veteran soldiers and the fresh mercenaries nodded with fervor, braced for the upcoming battle. Despite any discontent with broken promises, their dedication to safeguarding the Kingdom of Thufrim's land and honor remained resolute and fierce.

The leader of the fort's border defense surveyed his soldiers with a solemn expression. "Our situation is dire," he declared, his voice resolute yet tinged with an edge of disappointment. "We are outnumbered, and this fort may not hold if we continue to engage them head-on."

He advanced, his gaze piercing as he surveyed the battlefield beyond the fort's walls. "Yet, we will not surrender easily. We must defend this ground, even if it requires great sacrifice."

The soldiers listened intently, their eyes fixed on their leader, waiting for further orders.

"Listen closely," the commander continued. "We will shift our strategy. We will fortify our defenses here while executing a measured retreat, drawing the enemy into a trap of our own making."

Some soldiers cast uncertain glances, but they understood the necessity of following their leader's command.

"Maintain your positions with resolve. Do not allow the enemy to breach our defenses," he instructed firmly. "We will hold them here and drive them back until they are forced to retreat. Prepare to fight with all your might, and keep your spirits high!"

The soldiers prepared themselves, their determination palpable as they steeled themselves for the fight. Despite the daunting odds, they were resolute in their commitment to defend their post.

As the leader's orders sank in, a surge of spirit ignited among the troops. They raised their weapons high, their voices resounding with conviction.

"For the Kingdom of Thufrim!" one soldier shouted, his voice echoing through the fort.

The others immediately joined in, their cries unified and fervent. "For victory!" they proclaimed in unison.

With fervent determination, they readied themselves to confront the enemy with unshakable courage. Despite the immense challenges ahead, they faced them with bravery and unyielding resolve. In the dark of war, the flame of hope still burned brightly in each soldier's heart, guiding them through the uncertainty toward the promise of victory.

------------------------------------------

Amidst the chaos and spilt blood, hope and tension continued to hover over both sides. Yet, behind the ranks of soldiers fighting for their respective nations, the mystery of the symbol that appeared and vanished so swiftly lingered in many minds. What is the true meaning of this omen, and will it affect the fate of the battle raging at this border fort?

Meanwhile...

In the rose-tinted twilight, the forces of the Zuvia Empire advanced into Peaceful Valley with resolute strides and hearts brimming with fervor. At their head was the formidable warrior known as Roulin, leading with unmatched valor. He stood as a pillar of strength among his troops, esteemed and admired by every soldier under his command.

Raoulin scanned the surroundings with a sharp gaze, his eyes gleaming in the fading light as he sought any signs of enemies that might challenge them. Behind him, 1,000 Zuvia troops followed steadily, their weapons poised and ready for battle.

"We have arrived at Peaceful Valley," Raoulin's deep voice resonated clearly above the rumble of the marching troops. "Nothing shall stand in our way. Whatever emerges from behind that mysterious symbol must be confronted with our greatest courage and strength."

The soldiers surrounding him responded with a roar of agreement, their spirits ignited as they readied themselves for the challenges ahead. They had been meticulously trained and were prepared to tackle any obstacle.

Roulin pressed on, "We will hunt down anyone who dares defy the might of the Zuvia Empire and ensure they regret ever challenging us!"

With burning resolve, the Zuvia forces braced themselves to face any threats that might obstruct their mission. They were prepared to fight to the last drop of blood to defend the honor and power of the Zuvia Empire.

In the distance, where the twilight's blush kissed the land, a solitary figure emerged. Standing tall in ornate armor that suggested an aura of shadowy enigma, this presence commanded both respect and trepidation. Their heavy footsteps reverberated through the encroaching dusk, breaking the silence with a foreboding rhythm.

This figure resembled a dark knight materializing from the shadows, their face concealed behind a gleaming helmet that revealed nothing of their expression. Yet, their presence alone emanated a formidable strength, a silent threat to anyone who might dare to confront them.

As darkness enveloped the land, the figure advanced with unyielding confidence, seemingly indifferent to any dangers that might lurk ahead. Their true identity and the significance of their enigmatic arrival remained shrouded in mystery.

But beneath this aura of darkness lay a power beyond imagination—a harbinger of change poised to disrupt the world's delicate balance. Each step the figure took not only carried a latent threat to those who opposed them but also heralded a promise of profound transformation. The arrival of this dark knight would irrevocably alter the world, binding the fates of many to the weight of their presence upon Peaceful Valley.

With tension hanging thick in the air and mysteries yet to unfold—both the cryptic symbol and the dark knight's sudden appearance—the ultimate question looms: Will this enigmatic figure become an ally or an adversary to Raoulin and the forces of Zuvia? Only time will tell.