The footsteps stopped.
Not because the person had reached them—
but because they were no longer alone.
From the edges of the moonlit garden, from between the trees, from behind the rose-clad archways and tall hedges—
armor shifted.
Metal glinted.
One by one, like ghosts materializing from the shadows, figures stepped into the open.
Twenty.
No—fifty.
No—more.
Aldric's breath froze in his chest.
Lyriana's fingers curled so tightly around her bowstring that the leather bit into her skin.
The garden, quiet and serene a heartbeat before, now bristled with steel.
Helms carved with sharp edges.
Cloaks bearing the crescent sigil of Ardelune.
Mana flickering faintly along their gauntlets and swords.
Knights.
Holy knights of the Church—and knights of the noble houses that had been sent.
Moving.
Surrounding them.
Encircling the courtyard in a tightening ring of steel and moonlight.
Aldric instinctively shifted Elenya's sleeping form, drawing her closer to his chest. He stepped half a pace in front of Lyriana.
> "What the hell…?" he breathed, voice low.
A knight stepped forward, armor whispering with each movement. The moonlight played across his visor, hiding his eyes.
Lyriana swallowed, her breath steady but shallow. Her thoughts snapped into razor focus:
Seeing them now… I realize they're far more than I expected. I knew there would be many, but I didn't think this many would have made it this close already.
Aldric's mind raced:
This—
There's a lot of them. They're not strong individually; killing them would be easy… but a few of them won't be so simple to deal with while protecting them.
The knight at the front raised his blade.
Half the circle lowered their spears.
The other half drew blades.
Not attacking—
but ready.
Prepared for either obedience…
or resistance.
Aldric's heartbeat thundered.
Lyriana's grip tightened.
From behind the masks of metal and shadow, the ring of knights stood unwavering—
their blades catching the moonlight like the silent, cold teeth of a trap finally sprung.
The entire garden held its breath.
Aldric whispered, eyes blazing crimson:
> "…Lyriana."
"Is this really safe?"
Lyriana didn't answer immediately.
She couldn't.
Because the air around them shifted—
dense, heavy, wrong.
The ring of knights did not move… but their presence pressed in like grinding stone. Moonlight clung to polished steel, and faint flickers of divine mana crawled along their armor like cold fire.
Not an ambush.
A display.
A show of force meant for a single purpose:
Elimination.
Lyriana inhaled slowly, deeply, carefully.
Her breath clouded in the air.
Aldric's didn't.
He was burning too hot.
His thoughts lashed inside his skull—frantic, furious:
Shit. Shit—
What's this? I can see more coming. If they keep arriving at this rate, killing them all will take forever. If it takes too long… he might not be there anymore.
Lyriana's mind was calmer:
This amount… not all of them are Holy Knights. No.
Her eyes narrowed sharply.
Aldric's voice reached her—low, barely controlled.
> "…Lyriana. Is this really the safest option right now?"
Her answer came first in movement—
a subtle shift of her stance, feet angled, shoulders turning, arms adjusting the child in her grasp.
Ready to move.
Ready to run.
Ready to fight.
Only then did she speak, soft but edged with steel:
> "No.
This wasn't supposed to happen. I didn't expect this many."
A cold breeze stirred the hedges, whispering against the knights' helmets.
The lead knight stepped forward, boots sinking slightly into the wet grass. He lifted his sword—not in aggression, but in a formal gesture, the blade angled toward the sky.
His voice came deep and cold, carrying like a tolling bell:
> "Demons."
The single word cut through the night.
Lyriana's hold on Lucifer tightened. Aldric's crimson eyes flared, pupils narrowing, instincts screaming.
> "For the crime of daring to step foot in the Holy Empire…
…for the crime of slaying the Queen…"
He lifted his sword higher, the movement slow and ritualistic—yet steeped in violence.
> "…you shall all die. Every last one of you."
A low murmur rippled through the ring of knights—metal whispering, spears lowering, mana crackling faintly along gauntlets.
Aldric's hands clenched around Elenya, knuckles white, eyes blazing brighter.
Crimson.
Feral.
> "…You want to repeat that?"
His voice dropped—cold and cutting.
> "Someone like you can only dream of killing us. Don't get ahead of yourselves. Wishing for it won't make it possible."
Lyriana's breath stayed calm, but her mind was already calculating. This wasn't just intimidation anymore.
It was the opening act of a massacre.
The lead knight raised his sword, letting moonlight dance across its edge so the courtyard shimmered with the promise of death.
> "At my signal…"
Calm. Unyielding. Cold.
> "…attack."
A heartbeat stretched into eternity.
Then the knights surged forward.
Steel flashed. Mana flared. The ring snapped into motion with terrifying precision—blades carving silver arcs through the moonlight, spears lunging like the jaws of a living trap. The garden erupted into chaos, stone echoing with the clash of metal, the crackle of divine power, and the startled cries of children stirring in their arms.
Aldric hissed through clenched teeth, pulling Elenya close, crimson eyes blazing.
> "Lyriana—stay back!"
He stepped forward, mana surging. Blood magic condensed in his hand as his swing sang a taut, deadly note, releasing a slash of mana that hissed through the night—cutting through knights before they could close in.
The courtyard, still moments before, had become a storm of steel and death.
And at its center, the lead knight's cold, steady presence marked the beginning of the Empire's wrath.