The Knights of the Apocalypse!
Staring at Blake, many nobles turned ashen-faced, their mouths agape in speechless shock. As once-infamous figures across the continent, the Knights' name had been deliberately erased from the memories of countless people. After all, it was easy enough to hide a single man's identity in a land as vast as this—but concealing an entire faction was an entirely different matter. And the Knights of the Apocalypse were a force that simply could not be hidden.
No one could trace back to the exact date of the order's founding. Historians had long debated its membership structure and power hierarchy. Yet one fact remained undeniable: every time the Knights emerged from the shadows, they shook the entire continent to its core. Over the past century, the fall of nearly every major kingdom could be directly linked to their actions. One need only glance at the annals of history to grasp the sheer terror this order inspired.
**Year 35 of the Lunar Blossom Era**, Silver Mist Plateau: The Kingdom of Palas clashed with the Knights of the Apocalypse. After a brutal thirty-two-day campaign, the kingdom fell.
**Year 13 of the Dark Moon Calendar**, Free Territories: The Silver Kingdom's Royal Guard Legion engaged the Knights of the Apocalypse. A month-long battle ended in a catastrophic defeat, and the kingdom was annihilated.
**The Tenth Month of the Summer Chime in the Breeze and Sun Reign**...
Scouring the continent's historical records, one would find that over thirty-five powerful nations had fallen to the Knights of the Apocalypse in just a single century. These were not small, city-state fiefdoms like the Sith Empire of old—they were sprawling empires with vast territories and formidable military might. Take the Kingdom of Palas, for example: at its peak, it had controlled one-fifth of the entire continent. Yet after the Knights breached its northern defenses, they marched south without pause, storming the royal capital in a mere month and annihilating its three-hundred-thousand-strong garrison. Not a single member of the royal family was spared; all were put to the sword. In the aftermath, the once-mighty kingdom fractured into several petty states, never to reclaim its former glory. Its golden age dissolved like a fleeting, illusory dream.
What made the Knights even more enigmatic was that, unlike other great powers, they had no clear guiding principle. The Church of the Divine Light's doctrine was straightforward: to spread the grace of the Holy Mana, win believers to its cause, and protect the faithful. The Mage's Guild's goal was equally simple: to study and harness the power of Mana, nurturing and safeguarding those who could commune with it.
The Knights of the Apocalypse, however, had no such defined purpose. At times, they aided tyrannical dictators in crushing rebellious uprisings; at others, they stood with the people, laying siege to royal palaces. They would launch attacks on parliamentary democracies at the behest of a king, yet also accept commissions from those same democracies to resist the expansion of more powerful monarchies.
In short, the Knights of the Apocalypse seemed utterly unprincipled—willing to lend their strength to anyone who could pay the price. Yet astute historians, after untangling this chaotic web of contradictions, had discerned a subtle pattern. First, the Knights only targeted large, domineering empires and superpowers. They rarely set their sights on small, weak nations (though it was not unheard of, the instances were few and far between).
Second, the Knights of the Apocalypse had an irreconcilable hatred for the Church of the Divine Light. A century ago, the church had even assembled a million-strong army to wipe out the order. But the campaign ended in disaster: the Knights not only annihilated the entire host but also went on to destroy three northern kingdoms that had supported the church. The defeat crippled the church's power, bringing it to the brink of total collapse. It was only the Knights' sudden disappearance soon after that allowed the church to spend decades slowly rebuilding its influence—otherwise, one of the continent's two great powers might have ceased to exist entirely.
Conversely, this meant the Knights of the Apocalypse maintained a surprisingly amicable relationship with the Mage's Guild. According to historical records, the two factions had never clashed directly. This was likely due to the mages' aloof, detached nature; they cared little for matters outside the realm of magic, so they had no interest in the power struggles that consumed the church. Even if a ruling class fell, it was a trivial matter for the mages—they would simply find a new patron to collaborate with.
And the emblem of the Knights of the Apocalypse was none other than the **Sword and Rose**.
Of course, the nobles would not have been so terrified by Blake's mere words alone. But they all remembered the events of the previous night: this young man had personally stormed the Church of the Divine Light, slaying two Divine Light Knights and dozens of worshippers. If they had been puzzled by the church's passive response before, they now understood why.
So that was it!
The Knights of the Apocalypse and the Church of the Divine Light had always been bitter enemies. If this young man really was the order's commander, it made perfect sense for him to waltz into church territory and stir up trouble. Unlike the Mage's Guild, which maintained a facade of neutrality, the church and the Knights shared nothing but open hostility. And the church's decision to swallow its humiliation and take no action now had a clear explanation. Their opponent was the Knights of the Apocalypse—the same force that had turned a million-strong army into dust and nearly destroyed the church a century ago. A single church branch in the capital stood no chance against them. To retaliate would be to repeat the tragedy of the past.
In an instant, many nobles felt a wave of clarity wash over them. The church's ambiguous stance had become the strongest proof of Blake's identity. If the church had not known who he truly was, would they have endured such a public humiliation without striking back? It was obvious they had recognized the threat—and chosen to back down rather than face annihilation.
Yet shock aside, the nobles knew nothing about Blake's claim to Twilight Forest. Though he spoke with absolute conviction, he had presented no evidence to support his words. His assertion was nothing but empty talk, hardly enough to convince anyone. As terrifying as the Knights of the Apocalypse were, matters of sovereignty and territorial integrity were not up for negotiation.
King Wester V's face drained of all color. He had studied the history of the Knights of the Apocalypse in his youth. His history tutor had even told him that their legacy had spawned an unwritten rule across the continent: no nation should grow too powerful, lest it become a target of the Knights. This was why, despite the presence of several strong powers today, their territories remained relatively limited. These nations preferred to expand their influence through alliances rather than military conquest—all for fear of drawing the Knights' attention. No one wanted to suffer the same fate as the fallen empires of old, destroyed without warning by a force no one could understand.
After all, according to the records, not all the great nations destroyed by the Knights had been aggressive expansionists. Some had simply wished to live in peace, minding their own business. Yet they had not been spared. No one could say for certain whether the Knights were enforcers of justice or harbingers of destruction.
Lariboide had dropped subtle hints—even explicit ones—about Blake's connection to the Knights in the past. But Wester V had paid little heed. To him, the order was a relic of the distant past, long since vanished after decades of absence.
But now, they had reappeared before him, without warning?
"You have no proof to back up these claims, Mr. Blake," Wester V's tone had shifted imperceptibly, but his resolve remained unshaken. "You say Twilight Forest belongs to the Knights of the Apocalypse, yet there is no mention of this in any of our kingdom's official records. How do you explain that?"
At the king's question, Blake shrugged again, then pointed to the throne beneath Wester V.
"Bottom right. The third panel."
What did that mean?
Not only Wester V, but all the nobles were left bewildered. Bottom right, third panel—could there be some hidden secret in the throne?
A frown creased Wester V's brow. He sensed Blake was hinting at something important. Though he had no desire to investigate, he could not ignore the man's words now that they had been spoken aloud. Reluctantly, he reached out and felt along the third panel on the throne's bottom right, just as Blake had instructed.
*Click!*
Sure enough, his fingers brushed against a tiny seam. With a light tug, a hidden compartment sprang open beside the throne. Wester V reached inside and pulled out a small, black metal box.
There really was a secret here?
The nobles leaned forward, their faces alight with curiosity and astonishment. They had stood in this hall for years, yet none of them had ever suspected that the seat of royal power harbored such a hidden mechanism.
Staring at the metal box, Wester V was caught in a dilemma. Blake's ability to pinpoint the compartment's location made the contents all too clear. Yet if he opened it in front of the nobles, the truth would be exposed. If he destroyed it, he would be tacitly admitting Blake's claims were true. In the end, Wester V gritted his teeth and reluctantly pried open the box. As expected, it contained a stack of carefully preserved documents. And their contents were exactly as Blake had described: a trusteeship treaty signed between the Knights of the Apocalypse and the Kingdom of Wester. The treaty stipulated that during the Knights' absence, Wester would be responsible for the administration of Twilight Forest. In return, the kingdom would exercise full control over the territory for the duration of the trusteeship. There was no expiration date—the agreement would remain in effect until the Knights of the Apocalypse returned to reclaim their authority. The treaty clearly defined the boundaries of Twilight Forest and bore the royal seal and the signature of King Wester III.
King Wester III...
Seeing the signature, Wester V looked up at Blake, his eyes filled with confusion. He wanted to dismiss the treaty as a forgery and reject Blake's demands outright, but if the young man insisted on showing the document to the nobles, the lie would be exposed. Yet destroying it would be tantamount to confessing the truth. Finally, Wester V sighed and spoke through gritted teeth.
"It is as you say, Mr. Blake. The contents match your claims."
A palace attendant quickly stepped forward, took the treaty from the king's hands, and presented it to Blake with a respectful bow. The nobles stared at the young man, their expressions numb with shock.
"Now, Mr. Blake—do you have anything else to say?"
Wester V had completely forgotten that he was the one who had summoned Blake to the council. His mind was in disarray, the situation spiraling far beyond his control. He only wanted to end the meeting as quickly as possible and regain his composure.
"Nothing else," Blake replied, tucking the treaty into his chest pocket and bowing to the king with his usual elegance. "I came here solely to reclaim this treaty and make my announcement to everyone present... though, to be honest, I am not the one with a true purpose here. That honor belongs to the young lady beside me."
With that, Blake stepped back and gestured toward Ophelia.
The mocking whispers that had lingered in the hall fell silent instantly.
"The young lady...?"
Wester V cursed inwardly, but he had no choice but to look at Ophelia. He hated Blake with every fiber of his being. He had wanted to end the council quickly to avoid facing her, but now the damned man had pushed her to the forefront of everyone's attention.
"This young lady is...?"
"Greetings, Your Royal Highness, King Wester V," Ophelia said, her tone far more formal than Blake's. She opened her eyes, stepped forward, and performed a flawless royal curtsy—every movement precise, every gesture graceful.
The nobles fixed their gaze on her, waiting with bated breath for her to speak.
Bearing the weight of their complex stares, Ophelia lifted her head. Her expression was solemn, tinged with a hint of sorrow.
"I apologize for overstepping my bounds, but I seek only one answer... May I ask: where is Her Royal Highness, Queen Serilia?"
"Queen Serilia...?"
At the name, Wester V's face paled again. He stared at Ophelia, and she met his gaze without flinching. In her beautiful blue eyes, there was nothing but unwavering resolve and profound grief.
Could it be? Was she really his older sister? His dear sister?
Panic surged through Wester V's heart, but he forced himself to calm down.
Stay calm! Stay calm! You are no longer a child! You are the king of a nation! And she is nothing but an ordinary woman! Nothing more! With that thought, Wester V took a deep, trembling breath and replied slowly.
"Queen Serilia was executed twenty-five years ago. This is a matter of royal family business—none of your concern."
"What was her crime?"
"She committed adultery with a foreign servant, bringing great dishonor to the royal family. According to the law, her execution was justified."
"Justified... is that what you call it?"
Ophelia closed her eyes, falling silent for a moment. Then she looked at Wester V again.
"I truly cannot understand you, Borkus."
"W-what did you say...?"
"Why did you treat Mother and me this way? What harm did we ever do to you to deserve such cruelty? Why did you pin this false charge on Mother, condemning her to eternal shame even in death? Borkus Wester. Tell me—what was the reason for all of this?"
"This is a blatant slander!"
Wester V could contain his anger no longer. He stood up again, his voice shaking with rage. "That happened twenty-five years ago! The verdict was reached after a thorough investigation and with sufficient evidence! What right do you have to question the royal family's judgment? Or do you have any proof to support these delusional claims of yours?"
"Delusional?"
Despite the king's roar, Ophelia remained calm. She placed a hand over her heart.
"It is true—I have no evidence to prove Mother's innocence. But Borkus, I hope it is not too much to ask for an answer regarding my own fate... I only want you to tell me..."
Her expression softened, filled with sorrow.
"Why did you try to kill me that day?"
"—!!"
Ophelia's clear voice echoed through the hall like a boulder dropped into a still pond, sending shockwaves rippling through the crowd.
"Her Royal Highness Princess Ophelia! She really is Princess Ophelia!!"
"She was murdered? By the king himself?!"
"How is this possible? How can this be?!"
"Your Highness! Is what you say true?"
"Are you really Princess Ophelia? Are you alive?!"
Faced with the nobles' frantic questions, Ophelia shook her head gently.
"No... I am not truly alive."
"Huh?"
The crowd fell silent, confused. Then they watched as Ophelia spread her arms wide. A faint, ethereal glow began to emanate from her body, and as the light grew brighter, her form became increasingly transparent.
"I am no longer a living being. All that remains of me in this world is my soul."
Ophelia looked at the stunned nobles, her voice calm and clear.
"I died thirty years ago..."
She turned her gaze back to Wester V, who stared at her with a face drained of color, his eyes filled with terror, unease, and dread.
"After you pushed me into that dry well, I lost all hope. Borkus, it was you who wanted to take a walk that night. It was you who suggested we go to the well. But I never imagined... that you would try to kill me. Why, Borkus? Why did you do it?"
"S-silence! Be silent!!"
Wester V could no longer contain his screams. He had clung to the hope that this young woman was merely an impostor who looked like Ophelia. But when she had revealed that she was no longer human, the last shred of his denial had been crushed.
"Lies! Utter lies!!"
"Your Majesty! Answer us! Is what the princess says true?"
"Your Majesty! We demand the truth!"
"Tell us what really happened, Your Majesty!!"
The nobles could contain their outrage no longer. In fact, Ophelia's revelation of her true nature had only strengthened their belief in her words. A soul could not be faked. If the spirit of Princess Ophelia stood before them and spoke these words, then her claims must be true—beyond a shadow of a doubt!
"Insolence! Blasphemy! Quiet! Be quiet!!"
Wester V looked out at the chaotic hall, unable to form a coherent response. He saw the expressions of disbelief in the nobles' eyes. You never believed in me! You doubted my abilities even when Father was alive! You never trusted my talents! You only ever believed in Father, only in my sister! You always compared me to them! You damned fools!
"I do not know what you are talking about! Now get out! This council is adjourned!!"
Wester V had completely lost his composure. With a final roar, he spun on his heel and fled the hall in a panic.
"It seems you did not get the answer you sought," Blake said, turning to look at Ophelia. She gave him a helpless, bitter smile.
"Wasn't this the outcome you wanted, Lord Blake?"
"Well, the matter is settled. It is time for us to leave."
Blake did not answer her question. Instead, he shrugged and turned toward the door. Ophelia watched his retreating figure, sighed softly, and prepared to follow. But just then, several elderly nobles stepped forward, blocking her path with respectful bows.
"Your Royal Highness Princess Ophelia—do you remember us?"
"You are..."
Ophelia looked at the white-bearded elders before her, trying to recognize the faces beneath the weight of years.
"Lord Marquis Shuran? Lord Earl Vol?"
"We are both dukes now," the man once known as Marquis Shuran said with a bitter smile. He looked at the young woman before him, his expression grave.
"Your Royal Highness Princess Ophelia... will you lead us again? Will you continue to stand with this nation?"
"I no longer have the right," Ophelia replied, her voice tinged with sadness as she shook her head. "The throne of Wester does not belong to me now. And I am no longer among the living—I have lost the power to guide this country. Now..."
She glanced at Blake's retreating figure, her eyes filled with complex emotions.
"Now, I am merely the adjutant to the Commander of the Knights of the Apocalypse, Lord Blake. Nothing more."
The elderly nobles froze, their mouths open, words failing them. Ophelia paid them no mind. She bowed to the assembled crowd once more, then turned and walked away.
No one tried to stop them as they left the hall. The royal guards were duty-bound to prevent their departure, but many of the guards had known Princess Ophelia in their youth. Back then, they had been ordinary soldiers; now, they held positions of great power. They issued orders to the guards, forcing them to stand aside. In the end, the guards had no choice but to comply, watching helplessly as Blake and Ophelia boarded their carriage and rode away from the palace.
And this was the beginning of the Kingdom of Wester's descent into chaos.