The various knightly orders of the many countries gathered on the fortress wall, including the Lionheart family. Although they had been summoned rather suddenly, no one was dissatisfied with the decision. A black mist was slowly rolling in toward them from the far side of the snowfield. The fog remained unaffected by the snowstorm and slowly eroded the white, similar to how dusk pushed back the light. The fog came closer and closer, gradually turning the snowfield into the night, despite the sun still residing high in the sky.

Eugene, or rather Hamel, knew exactly what the fog was, and he knew the identity of the fog’s herald as well. The man was on the back of a horse, colored black like the darkness, and he held a black flag inscribed with a crimson reverse pentagram. Despite the freezing cold, the man only wore a tidy, black uniform, and his hair was neatly combed back and undisturbed even in the strong wind.

“Incarceration’s Blade,” muttered Kristina while standing next to Eugene.

The unwelcome guest wasn’t showing any signs of hostility, and although he was approaching the fortress, he wasn’t putting on a display of his presence either. As such, none among the gathered knights had lost consciousness.

Even so, the priests of Yuras held each other’s hands and busily recited their prayers, and though the light they emitted did not push back the approaching darkness, it reinforced the surroundings to prevent the darkness from encroaching any further. At the center of the light stood Pope Aeuryus, supervising the miracle while feeling the throbbing of the stigmata. Raphael Martinez, the Commander of the Blood Cross Knights, also rested his hand on the pommel of the greatsword on his back.

“Gavid Lindman,” Eugene quietly muttered the name.

It was a name he could never forget, just like Noir Giabella. But the presence he felt...