In the vast highlands of Northern Erune, there is a widely known legend among the clans of the Gulqi people—that the lone soldiers on the battlefield are those favored by the Death God.
Ben van Nosda had also heard this legend. He was a Knight recruited from the Balta region in the kingdom’s north, born into a local gentry family. Before enlisting, he was somewhat skilled in taming beasts, which naturally made him a Flying Dragon Knight upon enlisting, part of the Thirty-Fourth Corps’ Flying Dragon Cavalry Squadron. This unit was originally a part of the kingdom’s Southern Army, but the latter had long been decimated by the Madara Undead Army in this war, and even Commander Count Binage himself had perished. Ben van Nosda’s unit waited for signs of a ceasefire that never came; instead, each day, the Madara Undead’s attacks grew fiercer, yet the noble lords behind them offered no support, claiming that negotiations were over and the war had already ended.
The messenger sent to liaise with the White Mane Legion and Anlek was unheard of, and the situation worsened day by day. Just like the highest commander of the Thirty-Fourth Corps’ remnants on the southern border of Jandener, Baron Ke Lian wrote in his diary:
"The situation in the south worsens day by day. We don’t know where our fellow troops are scattered, and Madara’s undead are launching attacks from all directions. We can’t contact anyone, news seems blocked, and even retreat has become impossible. The nobles act independently, and by now, this territory has detached from the kingdom’s control. Martha above, I hope to see the end of this nightmare in my lifetime—"
But none of this mattered to Ben van Nosda anymore. He and his dragon were shot down while patrolling a human village on the southern border, destroyed by the undead. He became the character in the Gulqi clan’s legend, the one under the Death God’s cold gaze. His face, covered in blood, he desperately raised his head and saw rows of skeleton warriors flooding from the ruins of the village from all directions. Pinned under his dragon’s corpse, his light crossbow was the only weapon for defense. He raised his arm and shot an arrow at one of the bone skeletons.
The crossbow arrow, blessed with holy water, emitted a dazzling light, and a skeleton turned to ashes in the white light.
But after one bright light after another, more undead instead overwhelmed van Nosda’s view—a boundless sense of despair enveloped the young man. Just a few months ago, van Nosda couldn’t help but think—when they heard of Madara invading the kingdom from three directions, whether soldiers or nobles, almost everyone awaited with ease to see how these Dark Lords from a backward, savage country would break apart due to internal strife and disjointed command, just as they had in every historical unified invasion.
But the final outcome surprised them all. Madara’s army advanced decisively, calmly, and efficiently, while Erune Kingdom seemed like an aged elder, unable to cope, showing fatigue at every turn. The kingdom’s former glory had long vanished; three centuries ago, the Great Priest of the Flame Temple’s seventeenth generation once called it ’The Blade of Flame, the epitome of ancient glory,’ but the nation ultimately existed only in the past history.
Shooting the last arrow, the young man calmly discarded his crossbow and grasped the necklace with his wife’s name on it tightly in his chest. He lifted his head—a tall skeleton had already blocked the sunlight above him—
Fiery soul fire danced in its eyes.
"Farewell, father, mother, and dearest Vanessa. I just hope you remember your son and husband fought here with many others to protect Erune..."
"But it seems this country has no hope left..."
After October, the scent of autumn gradually thickened, and the plains along the coastline of Tonyger turned a pale yellow. Brand and his entourage, riding on horseback through the countryside, could distinctly feel the lingering atmosphere of war.
After Alorz tore his leather armor, Brand simply found a tailor in a nearby town to make a set of black long trench coat pants, posing as a lord. He now sat upright on his horse, looking around, wearing conspicuous white gloves and a longsword with a silver-plated hilt hanging from his waist, giving him a young noble’s demeanor.