The sky burns a deep, blood-red, as if the heavens themselves are on fire.

  The sun, once radiant, disappears behind thick black clouds, casting the world into an unsettling twilight. Beneath that dying light, flames devour everything without mercy—forests, homes, walls… and bodies.

  The air grows heavy, thick with the scent of iron.

  Ash.

  Burning flesh.

  In the distance, thousands of shadows advance like a frenzied swarm, pushing forward through corpses and rivers of blood. The clash of steel blends with desperate screams, forming a chaotic symphony that seems endless.

  The battlefield offers no respite.

  Not even enough to breathe.

  Through dense smoke—each breath burning the lungs—knights press forward in silver armor reflecting the blaze around them. Their helmets conceal not only their faces, but any trace of emotion.

  The battle rages for hours. Even as night fully claims the sky, humans and demons continue to collide amid smoke, ash, and fire that bathes the plains in an infernal glow.

  Then, through the flames, three riders emerge.

  Their horses charge forward as if the fire itself parts before them, their hooves breaking through the chaos with steady thunder.

  “Ken! Rose!” the rider at the front shouts, his voice rough with strain.

  “Yes, Commander!” they answer in unison.

  “Avoid all engagement and follow me to the rear!”

  The youngest of them—a knight with an impetuous gaze, gripping a towering golden spear—widens his eyes in disbelief.

  “Retreat?! That means abandoning our own!”

  “Direct orders from Her Majesty, the Queen!” the veteran thunders without hesitation.

  Ken grits his teeth, frustration tightening his jaw. Ahead of him, the battle continues to consume lives without pause, every scream driving deeper into his chest.

  Their leader wears no helmet. Deep lines carve across his face, proof of years soaked in blood and sacrifice. His white hair contrasts with eyes hardened by countless battles. He is not a man who invites argument.

  “I’m not here to debate,” he says flatly.

  Ken turns toward his companion.

  “Rose, say something!”

  She does not respond.

  Her gaze remains fixed on the horizon, where the sky burns and war roars like a starving beast. She seems lost in thought, distant from the chaos surrounding them.

  “Rose!” Ken calls again.

  Strands of long black hair escape her helmet, swaying in the wind and framing a gentle face with delicate features. Her crimson eyes reflect the firelight like blood-red gems. Though built for combat, her armor fits her with quiet elegance, emphasizing both strength and grace. Resting across her back is a black sword of unsettling presence, its blade seeming to swallow the light itself.

  After a few seconds—

  “Yes,” she answers at last, as if waking from a dream.

  “Damn it, girl, say something useful!” Ken growls.

  Rose turns toward the commander.

  The old man studies her in silence, his gaze stern and unyielding. She lowers her eyes under the weight of it.

  The silence that follows says more than words ever could.

  Without another word, the commander spurs his horse forward. After a brief hesitation, the other two follow, forcing their way through rubble and fallen bodies as arrows and spells hiss through the air, narrowly missing them.

  Gradually, the roar of battle fades behind them. The clash of steel dies away, the flames blur into the distance, and the smell of blood gives way to the damp scent of earth.

  After traveling a considerable distance, the old man suddenly halts his mount. Ken and Rose stop beside him.

  “Knights,” he says gravely, “there is something important you must hear.”

  Rose watches him closely.

  “You have a mission to fulfill.”

  “A mission?” Ken asks, still frowning.

  “Yes. During the battle, a messenger delivered a letter bearing the royal seal.” He pauses. “I was ordered to get both of you out alive and send you immediately to Sellows Hill.”

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  Ken and Rose exchange a confused glance.

  “I had my doubts at first,” the old man admits. “But now I understand Her Majesty’s decision. The Xaria have fallen… and the Saints are our only remaining hope.”

  “That is why you must answer the call.”

  “But, Lord Commander,” Rose says, “aren’t you coming with us?”

  He shakes his head.

  “My orders end here. The battle is not over, and my place remains there.”

  The two knights fall silent. Both have already made their choice.

  Without another word, the commander turns his horse and rides back into the darkness, returning to the hell they just escaped. Before disappearing, he looks back one last time at the young knight.

  “Lady Rosette… may the Goddess guide you.”

  A knot tightens in Rose’s throat.

  “Thank you, Commander,” she replies firmly.

  Ken exhales wearily.

  “Well… if it’s the Queen’s orders, there’s not much to think about.”

  “Don’t say it twice, rookie. Move out,” Rose replies.

  “Hey, don’t steal my line!” he protests.

  They share a brief laugh—a small spark of humanity amid the horror—before continuing on without looking back.

  Sellows.

  After a long stretch of silence, the two knights enter a dense forest where little light reaches the ground beneath the canopy. Twisted roots and heavy shadows surround them until, at last, the silhouette of a modest hill emerges ahead, faintly illuminated by moonlight.

  They light a torch and follow a narrow path winding between the trees. The forest’s silence feels wrong—too different from the chaos they left behind.

  “I’ve never been here before,” Ken murmurs.

  “Neither have I,” Rose replies. “But we’re not lost.”

  They continue forward until the hill rises fully before them. Dismounting, they begin the ascent cautiously. With every step, the trees thin until the summit finally reveals itself.

  From there, the forest stretches endlessly like a green sea. In the distance, the orange glow of the battlefield still stains the sky.

  “You can still see the battle from here,” Rose whispers.

  “Thankfully,” Ken says, “we’re no longer part of it.”

  Rose frowns slightly.

  “Shouldn’t someone be waiting for us?”

  Ken hesitates. They exchange an uneasy look.

  “I don’t know,” he admits. “But all we can do is wait.”

  They sit down to rest. The wind rustles through the leaves, and the sound of cicadas slowly eases the tension in the air. Still, Rose cannot relax.

  She feels something.

  An invisible presence, as if the forest itself is watching them.

  Branches crack nearby.

  “Did you hear that?” Ken whispers.

  “Yes,” she answers, her hand instinctively moving to her sword.

  In the next instant, several figures emerge from the darkness and surround them. Five in total, dressed in dark robes with veils covering their faces.

  Both knights react immediately. Rose draws her black sword, its blade swallowing the torchlight, while Ken manages only to pull a dagger—the golden spear on his back too unwieldy for a quick draw.

  One of the figures raises a hand.

  “That won’t be necessary,” a calm voice says.

  “Aren’t you knights of the Kingdom of Warwick?”

  “Yes,” Ken replies cautiously. “Who the hell are you?”

  “Allies,” the figure answers. The voice is unmistakably female.

  She steps forward and slowly removes her veil.

  “Do you recognize me?”

  Ken steps back.

  Rose holds her breath.

  “You…!”

  “Your Majesty!” Ken exclaims.

  Both knights immediately kneel, lowering their heads.

  Before them stands the Queen of Warwick.

  She chuckles softly. “So Niles told you nothing, did he?”

  Her emerald-green eyes shine with a mixture of innocence and curiosity. Brown hair falls loosely around a delicate face smudged with dirt and small wounds that fail to diminish her beauty. Even so, her warm smile carries a strange sense of relief.

  Rose raises her gaze.

  “Your Majesty… we were only ordered to come to this hill. We don’t know why.”

  “I see,” the Queen replies gently. “Don’t worry. You’ll understand soon enough.”

  She pauses briefly.

  “Let us speak before it’s too late.”

  “About what, Your Majesty?” Rose asks.

  Suddenly, the air changes.

  An invisible pressure spreads across the hill. The hooded figures exchange tense glances. The Queen frowns as Rose feels her chest tighten, while Ken struggles to steady his breathing.

  “…Mana?” the Queen murmurs.

  Seconds later, the ground begins to tremble violently.

  “What—?!” Ken shouts.

  From the hilltop, the horizon erupts with a chain of explosions tearing through the night like furious lightning rising from the battlefield. Even at this distance, shockwaves sweep through the forest, tearing leaves from branches and sending dust into the air.

  “Your Majesty, what’s happening?” Rose asks urgently.

  “…We may already be out of time,” the Queen says, her eyes fixed on the horizon as if trying to memorize the sight.

  Then she turns back to them.

  “Ken… no. Rosette.”

  Both knights focus on her.

  “I brought you here because there is something important you must know.”

  Her gaze settles on Rose.

  “Rosette of House Baker.”

  Rose straightens.

  “As the bearer of the Heaven Sword, do you understand what it truly means to wield it?”

  Rose brings the blade before her, lowering it slightly as if offering it.

  “Yes, Your Majesty. It is the Goddess’s sacred weapon. A power meant to protect the world from the great cataclysm.”

  “Exactly,” the Queen says softly. “And that destiny… reaches you today.”

  Ken frowns.

  The Queen exhales slowly.

  “Several moons ago, the elven sage Aneanel warned us of a being… someone… who seeks to break the balance of this world. One who does not belong to it.”

  “That being is the Demon King.”

  A chill runs down Rose’s spine.

  “To stop him,” the Queen continues, “we must send you to where he resides.”

  The hooded figures lower their veils, revealing faces marked by solemn resolve.

  “Once you arrive… you must kill him,” the Queen finishes.

  “Your Majesty, you can’t possibly—!” Ken rises abruptly.

  In an instant, one of the figures grabs his arm.

  “Enough.”

  A surge of magic sends him flying. Ken crashes several meters away, striking the ground hard.

  “Ken!” Rose shouts, rising into a combat stance.

  The Queen stops her with a single look.

  “Rosette…” Her voice trembles. “As your queen, I do not command you… I beg you.”

  Her green eyes fill with tears.

  “Please… listen to me.”

  Rose clenches her fists. After what feels like an eternity, she bows her head.

  “By my honor as a knight, by House Baker, and by my life… I will fulfill my duty.”

  “Thank you,” the Queen whispers, her smile touched with sorrow. “I swear your name will be remembered with pride in Warwick.”

  “Remembered…?” Rose murmurs.

  The Queen meets her gaze.

  “Yes. Because you will never return.”

  The world seems to collapse around her.

  Rose falls to her knees, her breathing unsteady.

  “I’m sorry,” the Queen continues. “We are sending you to a battle from which we do not know how to bring you back.”

  “So that’s why… Commander Niles…” Rose whispers.

  “…You are not the only one who will lose something today,” the Queen adds quietly.

  Before Rose can respond, the remaining figures surround her. Raising their hands, they begin chanting ancient spells in an unknown language.

  A magic circle forms beneath Rose’s feet. Golden lines blaze to life, illuminating the hill.

  “Your Majesty, wait!” a voice shouts in the distance.

  Ken, wounded, runs toward her.

  The light intensifies.

  “I’m sorry, Rose…” the Queen begins. “Perhaps this spell will consume my—”

  Her words vanish.

  White light engulfs Rose’s vision. Her body feels weightless… unreal.

  “Rose—!” a voice fades into the echo.

  For a single instant, the light shines with absolute brilliance.

  And then—

  Rose disappears.