“You want me chopped to pieces? Try it. Let’s see if your mouth’s sharper, or my blade.” Lance swung hard. A Dark Spirit warrior fell where he stood. His reply to Duncan was ice-cold.

“Lance, why do you still posture at death’s door?” Duncan’s eyes narrowed to slits. To him, hemmed in by Dark Spirit soldiers, Lance’s life was a candle in a gale. “But since you asked me to try, I’ll try.”

More Dark Spirit warriors lunged for Lance. He wove through them with nimble footwork, one against many, the clash messy but not collapsing.

Unlike Lance’s back-and-forth, the Duke’s line was in real trouble.

Two Earth Knights, three battle mages, and thirty-three Charge Knights faced one Daemon Knight, two Dark Spirit mages, and over eighty fallen warriors. Numbers pressed them, and the Shadowspirit Legion wasn’t just about numbers.

Knights of the Demonic Human Race fought on par with Earth Knights. Those Dark Spirit folk were built to channel Battle Aura. Every surge bled shadow. Night’s power wrapped the Daemon Knight as he locked blades with Steelheart Malte, neither yielding an inch.

Blazing Sun Layne wasn’t ignoring the Duke. He was buried himself. Over thirty fallen warriors targeted the unarmed guests, scimitars flashing like a storm of crescent moons. Layne and his knights held, yet guests kept dying.

“Hey! Morrison’s kid.” Sergeant Laurence dragged Alice over, barking at Lance. “The Duke says we pull back. With me!”

“Understood.” Fulin, playing Lance, didn’t linger. A courtyard emergency light orb burst like a sun. In the blinding veil, the three slipped out.

On the first-floor corridor of the ducal keep, Laurence jogged point. He glanced back. “Morrison’s kid, aren’t you curious why we’re retreating?”

“No need.” Lance’s voice was calm. “It looks deadly, but the outcome’s set. Until the Dawn Knight brings troops back, the Duke has no hands to guard others.”

“Right. We need to move.” Laurence wasn’t surprised. He faced forward and kept running.

To Alice, the maze-like hallway was her own back garden. The golden corridor ahead matched her memory. “Once we pass here, we’re out!”

Her words had barely fallen when the wall along the golden hall collapsed with a thunderous crack.

Dust boiled, then the corridor wind swept it clear. Three silhouettes stood stark in front.

Duncan and two fallen warriors blocked the passage like a road barrier.

“Trying to run? You won’t.” Duncan’s swagger was poison under moonlight.

Fulin, as Lance, eyed the walls punched open like shortcuts and sighed at the man’s persistence. He drew his sword. “No other way. I’ll end you here.”

Alice glanced at Duncan, then slipped behind Lance, uneasy. “He reeks of darkness. He may not be the brother you knew. He might be a Night Disciple.”

A Night Disciple… Fulin weighed it. She didn’t really do mystic theory. But like the Blood Clan’s wicked image woven into children’s tales in the Doran Kingdom, Lance had heard of Night Disciples.

They say humans go astray and are favored by the Dark Spirits’ patron, the Earth Mother. They fall. Body and mind steep in shadow, and with it comes a ruthless power.

In other words, Duncan now held a formal knight’s strength, and perhaps novice or even mid-tier dark magic. For most, that’s a mountain of power. Fulin understood his mad boldness.

“Kid, those two fallen aren’t simple. I see Battle Aura on them. Don’t get sloppy!”

“Got it.”

Sergeant Laurence and Lance spread left and right, long swords up, eyes fixed on the three.

Duncan and the fallen did the same. Duncan moved first. He pointed at Lance. “Breath of Darkness.” A streak of black light screamed toward him.

“I’ve got you.” Alice raised her pocket wand. She flicked toward Lance. “Holy Blessing!”

Clean light poured over Lance, like spring rain washing soot. The filthy black ray bounced off and broke.

“Not bad.”

On that beat, Lance and the sergeant drove in. The fallen moved too. Black Battle Aura coiled around them like smoke-vines. Their wiry frames swelled under the dark surge. Each unleashed brute strength and hacked down with curving blades.

Sergeant Laurence met that wide-open strike with Steel Heart. His power hammered back, equal to theirs, iron meeting storm.

Lance trusted speed. He read the fallen’s swing—no pattern, just force. Simple hands, no thought for the next beat.

He slid a step, a hair’s breadth from the edge, and let the power chop crash through air.

While the sergeant locked steel with the other, Lance ghosted to his foe’s flank. His dagger punched into a bare side. Then came Secret Sword Blazing Fire—Battle Aura flames roared inside the man like a kiln. He died on the spot.

“Nicely done!” Sergeant Laurence wouldn’t be outshone.

The tin-can knight looked ready to be crushed by brute force. He bellowed and triggered Steel Heart again. Momentum flipped like a tide under the moon. His strength surged and drowned the foe.

Clang. His steel sword knocked the scimitar away. Disarmed, the fallen was a lamb to the cut. Laurence drove his blade deep. The man’s body stiffened in shocks, then dropped hard.

“Damn it!” Duncan saw the tide turn and hurled another Breath of Darkness at Lance. Alice moved fast. Holy light rekindled over Lance like dawn on frost, and the black ray snapped away again.

No one blocked Lance now. He shot forward like an arrow. The distance collapsed. Duncan had no time to cast; he ripped out his short sword to parry.

Clang!

It echoed like the clash from days ago when Lance cut a retainer. This time it bit into Duncan. His chainmail split. A long gash tore across his chest. Blood burst like a red spray. Duncan slammed into the wall, breath ripped out of him.

“Damn… why…” Mortally struck, Duncan forced himself up, glaring at Lance with fading fire.

“No why. I won. You lost. That’s all.” Lance spoke cleanly and finished him with a final stroke.

“Lance…” Duncan sagged to the floor, head bowing. “Envy you… so free…”

The light drained from his eyes. He died after those hollow last words.

Right then, the Dawn Knight marched in with the Lionheart Legion. Soldiers saw Lance drop Duncan. A cheer rose like a breaking wave. With spirits blazing, they rushed toward the courtyard.

The Dawn Knight, with a few personal guards, paused. The Lionheart Legion’s commander looked at Duncan’s corpse, face unreadable. “So this is the end for those tempted by darkness.”

“But your hand was ruthless. If it were my brother, I’d hesitate.” His words held a weight.

“You got a problem?”

“No. Keep it up.” The Dawn Knight patted Lance’s shoulder. He lingered a heartbeat, then strode for the yard.

Alice suddenly threw her arms around him. “Lance! Do you know how scared I was? Why do you boys love danger? Don’t you know how worried I was? I… sob…”

The domineering lady peeled back into softness, leaning into Lance’s back, crying in a tremble.

Sergeant Laurence turned away. He peered through the gaping hole in the wall and pretended to admire the night wind.

Before Fulin could even ride that fierce surge in her chest, the elf girl Vivian arrived.

Her face had been tight with fear and urgency. She had pictured saving Lance, earning his favor, maybe… more. That hope flickered in her heart. Then she walked in on the embrace. Her expression froze like winter glass.