It was a rare weekend of respite for Kaylor, the renowned captain of the 13th Division Knights. Famed for his unmatched combat skills and tactical brilliance, his name was spoken with both admiration and reverence across the land.
Kaylor had two daughters and a loving wife, the most cherished treasures in his life. His days were often spent playing with his daughters or lending a hand to his beloved wife. Today was no different—he was busy strolling through the bustling market, shopping for his family with a contented smile on his face.
"Papa! I want this popsweet!" his daughter exclaimed, holding up the colorful treat with sparkling eyes.
Kaylor chuckled and patted her head. "Of course, let's buy all of them from the shop," he said with a warm smile, his voice filled with affection.
However, before he could act on his impulsive promise, his wife, Lucy, intervened, her tone firm but playful. "What are you talking about, Kaylor? All of them? Really?" she said, crossing her arms and giving him a look that made him laugh nervously.
"Yes, Papa, that's too much!" his other daughter, Rexona, chimed in, her little voice carrying mock seriousness.
Before Kaylor could respond, Rexona crossed her arms just like her mother, mimicking Lucy's stern stance perfectly. The sight of the two of them standing there, united in playful defiance, made Kaylor laugh aloud. "Alright, alright! I guess we'll just get a few then," he said, raising his hands in surrender, his smile never fading.
Now, Misha, the daughter who first wanted the popsweets, chimed in enthusiastically, "Yes, Papa, just buy four! We're 1, 2, 3, 4, right, Papa?"
Kaylor grinned and nodded. "Yes, that's right!" Turning to Lucy, he added with a proud smile, "Do you see, Lucy? She can count! Aren't my daughters just geniuses?"
Lucy shook her head with a soft laugh, her stern expression melting into affection. "Yes, yes, they're geniuses, just like their father," she teased, rolling her eyes playfully.
But Kaylor quickly shook his head, turning to Lucy with a warm smile. "No, no. They're intelligent, just like their mother," he said sincerely.
Lucy's teasing expression softened, and for a moment, her eyes reflected the love they shared.
The family was in the bustling, modest market near the north side of the city when a sudden, deafening bang echoed from the direction of the city's northern gate. The sound was sharp and menacing, causing the ground to tremble slightly.
Panic erupted instantly as people began screaming and running in every direction, the once-lively market turning into chaos.
Hearing the explosion, Kaylor's instincts kicked in. Without hesitation, he scooped up his daughters with one arm and grabbed Lucy's hand with the other. 'Stay close!' he urged, his voice steady but urgent as he weaved through the panicking crowd, determined to get his family to safety amidst the growing chaos.
Wasting no time, Kaylor sprinted toward his house, ensuring every member of his family stayed close. Once they arrived, he quickly guided them into the bunker—a shelter he had personally designed and built.
As Kaylor was about to leave, his wife, Lucy, stopped him. "Honey, please be careful," she pleaded. "If the situation becomes too dangerous, just run away for us. We can't bear to lose you."
Finally, his two daughters hugged him tightly and said, "Papa, we'll be waiting for you."
"Yes, I will return," Kaylor said with a confident smile. "A knight never runs away; instead, they face their challenges, even if it's the Demon King. Running away never solves anything."
With those words, he turned and headed toward the knights' quarters.
As Kaylor approached the knights' quarters, he noticed that the royal guards were already heading out. Upon seeing him, they immediately nodded in respect.
One of the men stepped forward, his voice steady yet filled with reverence. "I am Captain Peter, the escort commander," he said, his eyes locking with Kaylor's. "It is an honor to fight alongside a knight of your renown. We are bound for the north side of the city, where the real battle awaits. Your presence inspires us all, Sir Kaylor."
"I am Kaylor, Captain of the 13th Division," he announced, his voice firm and commanding. "From this moment forward, you are all under my charge. We will form teams of two and sweep every alley on the north side. If you encounter anything suspicious, report it immediately—no one is to act alone. Together, we will face whatever lies ahead with unity and strength.
Upon hearing his orders, the knights immediately stood at attention and responded in unison, "Yes, Sir!" Their voices echoed with determination, a clear sign of their trust and readiness to follow Kaylor's lead. The knights moved swiftly and methodically, scouring the alleys and streets as instructed. The cold wind whispered through the city, carrying with it an eerie silence that set their nerves on edge.
At last, they reached the North Church. Its once-grand facade now bore the scars of violence—the front door hung off its hinges, splintered and shattered, while the windows were blown out, jagged shards framing the emptiness within. Yet the rest of the structure stood eerily intact, as if holding its breath.
A knight quickly raised a signal flare, its crimson glow piercing the murky sky, summoning the others. Within moments, all the teams converged at the ruined church, their faces etched with grim resolve. Whatever had caused this destruction still lingered in the air, heavy and foreboding. They tightened their grips on their weapons, preparing for what awaited inside.
"You all wait here and take in the situation," Kaylar commanded, his voice steady but laced with tension. "I'll go in and take a look. If I don't come back, enter together. Be ready for anything."
Without waiting for a response, he stepped through the shattered doors, his figure disappearing into the darkness of the church's foreboding interior.
It was nighttime, and without any light, the church was practically engulfed in darkness. Kaylar could barely see as he stepped inside, his footsteps hesitant yet determined. He moved forward cautiously, relying more on instinct than sight, assuming the layout of the space.
Suddenly, his foot caught on something, and he stumbled, falling hard to the cold stone floor. A sickening realization crept over him as his hands brushed against something unfamiliar—something soft yet lifeless.
His breath hitched as he strained to see. Forcing his eyes to adjust, he leaned closer, and the faint outlines became clearer. His eyes widened in shock, his heart racing as the words echoed in his mind.
"What… what are these dead bodies?!" he gasped, then froze as the realization struck him. "Dead bodies of demons!"
Koylar, without hesitation, called for knights. As they stepped inside and turned on the lights, the truth revealed itself.
The so-called church was nothing more than a grotesque laboratory. Dead bodies of children, women, the elderly, elves, demons, and vampires filled the space. Some were preserved in glass jars, their lifeless eyes staring out, while others hung like discarded garments, limp and forgotten. The knights froze, their eyes wide with shock and disbelief at the horror before them.
After thoroughly inspecting everything inside the church, the royal knights acted swiftly, sealing off the building to prevent further intrusion. As their investigation extended beyond the church walls, they stumbled upon something strange—a secluded graveyard shrouded in mist.
Beside it lay a garden unlike any they had ever seen. Twisting vines and otherworldly plants thrived under a heavy, unnatural fog. The air felt thick and cold, and faint whispers seemed to drift through the haze, sending chills down their spines.
For some reason, Koylar couldn't shake a deep, gnawing unease about the place. Trusting his instincts, he issued a strict command: no one was to approach the graveyard or the mysterious garden. The knights were to remain vigilant, guarding the area until higher-ups provided further orders for investigation.
Then, without warning, the eerie mist enveloping the garden dissipated, revealing what appeared to be a perfectly ordinary garden. The knights stood frozen, still absorbing the surreal transformation in front of them. Just as they began to question what they'd seen, the mist returned, thicker and more oppressive than before.
From within the swirling fog, a figure began to emerge—a human. The knights, startled and on edge, immediately summoned Kaylor, drawing their weapons and preparing for whatever might come next.
Koylar was the first to act, stepping forward with his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. His voice was firm but measured as he addressed the figure emerging from the mist.
" Don't move. Who are you? Where are you from?" he demanded, his eyes narrowing as he scrutinized the stranger standing before him.
The figure remained silent for a moment, their features obscured by the shifting fog. The tension in the air grew heavier as the knights tightened their grip on their weapons, ready for anything.
"Do I now have to fight my own royal knights?" the stranger said with a low chuckle, the sound carrying an air of amused authority.
Koylar's eyes widened as recognition dawned. That voice—it was unmistakable. Without hesitation, he dropped to one knee, bowing deeply.
"I am Koylar, Captain of the 13th Division, at your service, Your Majesty," he declared with unwavering respect. "Your wish is our command."
The other knights, though still unaware of the stranger's identity, followed their captain's lead. One by one, they bowed their heads, their instincts compelling them to show deference. The air, thick with tension moments before, now buzzed with curiosity and reverence.
Leo pointed his finger at a knight who was bowing beside Kaylor. His voice cut through the silence with an edge of curiosity.
"You there. Do you know who I am?" he asked, his gaze piercing.
The knight froze but remained bowed. Leo chuckled softly, shaking his head.
"I doubt any of you truly know me, yet you bow. Why?" He paused, his eyes flicking to Kaylor.
"What if Kaylor worked for the other side? What if he were a spy?"
He straightened, the faintest smirk curling on his lips.
"My point is, don't bow your heads without knowing exactly who it is you're honoring."
Leo took a step forward, his expression softening just slightly. He raised a hand as if to calm the room.
Oh, my bad—my apologies," he said, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "I forgot to introduce myself."
He straightened his posture, the light catching the insignia on his armor.
"I'm Leo Gemini, a knight—just like all of you. Standing alone, but on your side nonetheless."
His voice carried a mixture of confidence and sincerity, his words meant to bridge the tension in the air.
Before Leo could say more, one of the knights suddenly blurted out, almost without realizing it:
"Leo Gemini... The Knight King! The emperor"
The room fell into a stunned silence. Whispers began to ripple through the gathered knights as the weight of the name settled over them.
Leo chuckled softly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Well, the Knight King is still just a knight," he said, his voice steady but warm. "You, me—we're all the same. Knights who carry the pride and dignity of our order."
He paused, letting his gaze sweep across the gathered warriors. "We live and fight for a purpose greater than ourselves. And we dream of meeting our end like proud warriors, standing tall.
His words resonated, a quiet strength underpinning them. The air grew still as the knights absorbed his message, their respect for him deepening.
Leo's expression grew serious, his earlier chuckle fading. He turned toward Kaylor, his tone firm but composed.
"Kaylor, I'm ordering you to investigate," he said, his voice carrying the weight of command. "We need to know the truth—every detail, every shadow. Leave no stone unturned."
The room felt tense again, the gravity of his words settling in. Kaylor nodded, his expression determined.
"As you command, Sir Leo," Kaylor replied, his voice steady, though a flicker of concern crossed his face.
Leo's gaze lingered on him for a moment before he addressed the rest of the knights. "We move forward only when we're sure. Remember, trust is earned, not blindly given."
After issuing his orders, Leo turned on his heel, his cape trailing behind him as he made his way out of the hall. The moon hung low on the horizon, its light dimming as dawn began to creep over the landscape.
By the time he reached his castle, the first rays of sunlight were breaking over the hills, painting the sky in soft hues of orange and pink. Leo paused for a moment at the gates, gazing at the horizon. His armor, though scratched and worn, gleamed faintly in the morning light. He sighed, a mix of exhaustion and determination settling over him.
"Another night gone," he murmured to himself, stepping into the castle.
The halls were quiet, save for the faint echoes of his footsteps. As he climbed the stairs to his chamber, he couldn't shake the weight of his thoughts—the knights, Kaylor's investigation, and the uncertain path ahead.
Once inside his room, Leo closed the door behind him, his shoulders sagging with exhaustion. He removed his disguise—a carefully crafted cloak and tunic that concealed his true identity—and placed it neatly on a chair. From his bag, he carefully lifted Vaeloria, her delicate form cradled in his arms.
He placed her gently on the bed, pulling the covers over her as though shielding her from the weight of the world outside. For a moment, he stood there, watching her peaceful face.
Leo turned to the window, leaning against the frame as the morning light streamed in. His thoughts swirled, heavy with uncertainty.
"Vaeloria..." he murmured to himself, his voice tinged with worry. "You're an issue I can't ignore any longer. What do I do with you now?"
He ran a hand through his hair, glancing back at her. She was at the heart of too many questions and too few answers—a mystery that could bring salvation or ruin.
With a sigh, he pushed away from the window and returned to her side. "Rest while you can," he said softly. "Because soon, everything will change."
In a district far from the royal castle, nestled among cobbled streets and blooming gardens, stood a grand structure. It bore a striking resemblance to the royal castle, with its towering spires and intricately designed arches, but there was a distinct sense of reverence to it.
The building was crafted from pristine white stone, accented with elaborate gold inlays that shimmered in the early morning light. Stained glass windows depicting ancient saints and divine battles cast a kaleidoscope of colors onto the polished marble steps leading up to the entrance.
This was the Church of hastia, a place of worship, refuge, and power. Its halls echoed with the soft murmur of prayers, and the scent of burning incense lingered in the air.
Inside, the grandeur continued. High vaulted ceilings painted with celestial murals loomed overhead, while rows of pews faced an ornate altar adorned with golden relics and sacred texts. Priests moved silently through the space, their robes flowing like whispers of the divine.
To the people, the Church of Hastia was more than just a house of worship—it was a symbol of hope, an institution that commanded respect and loyalty. But beneath its gilded beauty, secrets and whispers often stirred, hinting at forces at play that even the most devout couldn't fully comprehend.
Inside a grand room within the Church of Hastia, the atmosphere was thick with unease. A large round table dominated the center of the room, surrounded by eight finely crafted chairs. The light from a chandelier overhead flickered across the tense faces of those seated, each figure cloaked in secrecy.
"We've been caught by the royal knights," one of them muttered, his voice laced with frustration.
"Not just that—Leo was there," another added grimly, leaning forward as if the weight of the name was enough to deepen their trouble.
"Damn it!" a third spat, slamming a fist on the table. "The Ausha Empire's authority is starting to get in our way!"
It's not the Ausha Empire," another interrupted sharply. "It's the emperor's brat that's meddling with us. Like previous emperor, we should get rid of him."
"Vaeloria was taken back!" someone else chimed in, their tone edged with alarm.
"Vaeloria?" a sneer followed. "She's useless anyway. Leo just took out the garbage."
"Silence!" A commanding voice cut through the room, sharp and cold. The speaker, seated at the head of the table, leaned forward, his steely gaze silencing the murmurs. "This is not a marketplace for your petty bickering."
The others stilled, their attention fixed on the man.
"Leo can't stop us. He's too entangled in his own ideals to be a real threat," the figure continued, his voice low and deliberate. "As for the pastor, he's a fool—a tool we've already used. We've succeeded in our first steps. The rest is within our grasp. It is our victory."
His words carried a weight that seemed to lift the gloom, and one by one, the others began to smile.
A ripple of cheers and laughter filled the room, their confidence renewed. The man who had spoken—the one who had quieted the storm of doubt—was none other than the Archbishop himself, a figure cloaked in ambition and ruthlessness.