Warning: Because the story delves deeply into the dark aspects of the world (including violence, torture, psychological trauma, and the brutal consequences of conflict), although the author has refined these elements, reader discretion is strongly advised.

​Genres: Fantasy, Dark Fantasy, Isekai, Epic Fantasy, Mature, Multiple POV.

​Note: This story utilizes AI to generate character illustrations and background art. Please take this into consideration before reading. For this English version, the translation from the original Vietnamese text to English is done entirely using AI; therefore, there may be some inaccuracies or imperfections.

The fading evening light slowly vanished, dragging a blood-red dusk down upon the vast steppe.

The wind howled through the patches of dry grass, creating a sound of utter desolation. At the very edge of the horizon, the Artila Forest loomed like a gloomy fortress wall, its darkness seemingly waiting to swallow the last flickering light of day.

At this moment, a ragged group of Elves was dragging their exhausted feet along the edge of the steppe, rushing toward the forest's perimeter.

The rough iron shackles on their wrists and ankles had been partially removed, but the bleeding indentations still cut deep into their flesh. Just moments ago, they had escaped the clutches of the slave merchants.

Now, the only things driving those emaciated bodies forward were the instinct to survive and a fragile hope slowly fading in their chests.

Princess Elara raised her hoarse voice.

"Faster!"

Her platinum blonde hair, once the pride of the royal family, now flew haggard in the wind; her azure eyes, a symbol of life, now held nothing but despair and emptiness.

"If we slow down, this will be the last chance we ever lose!"

Amidst the heavy panting, her kin replied, their voices trembling yet full of determination.

"Yes, Princess! We must... we will survive!"

Elara gritted her teeth, her hands clenched so tightly they bled.

"People like us, the losers of a meaningless war, now forced to be slaves at the very bottom of society. Trampled on, despised worse than dogs... No! We will definitely escape this fate!"

Behind the hill, not far away, a suffocating cloud of dust billowed up. The Human army was fiercely in pursuit.

The setting sun reflected coldly on the armor and shields bearing the crest of the Holy Kingdom.

Leading the troops was a plump merchant, his face scrunched up with greed as his shrill voice shrieked.

"Money! Money! It's all my money! Catch them at all costs! The Duke ordered that not a single hair on that merchandise be scratched. If you let her escape, your heads will roll too!"

The commanding general on horseback irritably waved his hand to appease him.

"Keep calm, my Lord! They haven't sprouted wings to fly away. It's getting dark, we will set up camp right here. Wild beasts are very dangerous at night. Besides, no matter how they run, they'll leave footprints and the scent of sweat. My hounds are more than capable of tracking them down."

A soldier timidly stepped forward.

"Sir... what if they risk their lives and run straight into the forest ahead?"

The general sneered, a half-smile full of contempt.

"Are you blind? Ahead is the Artila Forest! Any fools who dare to step into the domain of the Grim Reaper will never find a way out. If the monsters in there don't tear them to pieces, then with the Duke's magical power, burning that entire forest to the ground would be effortless!"

The soldiers burst into mocking laughter and began setting up camp. The smell of roasted meat and strong wine wafted through the air. The merchant rubbed his ring-covered hands together, guffawing.

"Well... Looks like they have nowhere left to run. Hahaha!"

He turned to look at a girl leaning against the pillar of a tent.

"Anyway, we still have the Sixth Holy Lance here! What is there to fear?"

The blonde girl slowly opened her eyes, her gaze revealing bright white pupils. She looked back at him with extreme disdain. The Sixth Holy Lance - Rosalie Seina.

Meanwhile, at the edge of the Artila Forest, the Elven group was completely exhausted. They slumped down against the roots of ancient trees, wearing nothing but pitifully tattered rags. Darkness descended, swallowing everything.

An Elven child whispered, a tear rolling down its smudged cheek.

"Mother... I'm so hungry..."

Elara sighed, her stomach churning. She took the last few pieces of hard, dry bread from her cloth bag, carefully crumbled them, and distributed them among the dozens of starving people.

"Priority to the children and women... Try to hold on. We will definitely live to see the sunlight!"

They didn't dare light a large fire, leaving only a faintly glowing ember bed just enough for warmth. Everyone tried to climb up onto the high branches to rest.

In the unnervingly quiet night, a chilling sensation crept down everyone's spine.

They all vaguely sensed... an invisible entity, carrying a terrifying pressure, like a pair of blood-red eyes silently watching them from the deep abyss of darkness.

Around midnight, the Elven scout sent to monitor the enemy's movements rushed back at full speed. Panting heavily, he collapsed under a tree, drenched in sweat.

Elara, who couldn't sleep out of concern for her entire clan's safety, immediately slid down and grabbed the soldier's shoulders.

"What is it? Have they started sending the hounds after us? Everyone hasn't even had time to recover..."

"No... That's not it!"

The soldier interrupted, his eyes wide with terror.

"The Humans... their camp... is being attacked by something! Fire is everywhere, screams are echoing to the high heavens. This... this could be our chance to launch a counterattack or make our escape!"

Without time to overthink, Elara immediately turned to a group of youths and the warriors who still had some strength left.

"You all follow me to assess the situation. The rest of you stay hidden here. If we don't return by tomorrow morning, everyone must find their own way to run!"

"But Princess... you cannot risk it!"

"They only want this body of mine anyway! Everyone else must survive to preserve our clan's bloodline. Go!"

The Elven women called back.

"Princess..."

When Elara's group closed in on the enemy's campsite, a horrifying scene struck their eyes.

Fire billowed fiercely, burning the sturdy canvas tents to ashes. Blood dyed an entire patch of withered grass red. Piercing screams tore through the night.

"Demon! Demon! Save us, Sixth Holy Lance Rosalie!"

From the blazing red sea of fire, a colossal figure emerged. Standing nearly two meters tall, he wore a strange, dilapidated military uniform and a loosely draped cloak stained with the color of the night. His glowing red eyes locked onto his prey like twin crimson flames, accompanied by a wide grin that revealed bright white teeth.

His right hand dragged a brutal axe, its friction against the rocks on the ground sending trails of sparks flying.

The dark figure's voice was hoarse and deep, echoing as if rising from hell itself.

"Haha! You talked a big game earlier!"

His head tilted back and forth in an eerie manner in the darkness.

"Why is everyone running? Didn't you say you'd burn down this entire forest? You had such guts, so why are your feet so fast to flee?"

The general, his face utterly drained of blood, trembled and roared.

"He... he is the Boogeyman of the Artila Forest! How could this freak leave the forest's territory?!"

At that very moment, the Sixth Holy Lance - Rosalie - charged forward.

Her golden hair whipped wildly, her stark white eyes radiating a holy purity but overflowing with fury.

"Demon! Those who dare oppose the will of the gods must die! I will protect everyone! Archers, draw your bows!"

Swish! Swish! Swish!...

A rain of arrows tore through the wind, embedding themselves straight into the dark figure's body.

Thud! Thud! Thud!...

He didn't even flinch; his footsteps continued to advance steadily.

"The gods, huh?"

The dark figure slightly tilted his head, a faint smile appearing beneath the mask of the night.

"Did your gods teach you to hunt slaves and oppress living beings?"

Before the soldiers could even process his words, the dark figure vanished. He glided through space, leaving only a crimson afterimage.

"Ahhhhh! He's right behind us!"

With just a single swing of his axe, the entire squad of archers who had just fired their arrows was reduced to a gory mess of flesh and blood, their severed heads rolling on the grass.

"Bastard!"

Rosalie screamed, channeling all her holy power into her greatsword until it radiated brilliant light, and lunged straight forward.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

Three heaven-tearing slashes descended, but all were blocked by the dark figure's axe with effortless ease. He countered lightly, as if there were no weight to it at all.

"No need to be so ferocious, girl."

Rosalie ground her teeth, pouring her strength into a decisive strike. But this time, there was no sound of clashing metal.

Thud!

The dark figure tossed aside his axe and reached out with his bare, armor-clad hand to catch the razor-sharp blade of the holy sword. He gripped the sword tightly.

Rosalie's eyes widened in panic.

'I can't budge it! What kind of monster is he?'

Before she could retract her sword, the giant swung his arm, lifting both the sword and the body of the Sixth Holy Lance into the air before slamming her violently into the ground.

The greatsword bent upon impact, accompanied by the dry, sickening crunch of shattering ribs. Rosalie spat out a mouthful of fresh blood, her entire body paralyzed.

Seeing their final pillar of support defeated in a single beat, the merchant and the general abandoned everything and ran for their lives.

The dark figure slowly stood up straight. He didn't give chase; instead, he leisurely raised his left arm, pointing a pitch-black, metallic "strange object" at the two fleeing men with a savage smile.

"Haha..."

Bang! Bang!

Two deafening explosions tore through eardrums, sending plumes of smoke erupting from the tip of the metallic barrel. Dozens of meters away, the sprinting bodies of the merchant and the general suddenly halted, their chests pierced by a mysterious power unassociated with magic, before collapsing dead onto the grass.

"Humans... Are you ultimately just a bunch of cowards who cling to life and fear death this much?"

He lowered his hand, his red eyes sweeping over the glowing ruins.

On the ground, Rosalie used her last remnants of strength to prop her chin up and look at him.

"Cough... You demon! Kill me!"

"You've got some nerve."

The dark figure stepped forward, the toe of his boot stepping lightly on her blonde hair.

"You... should live. Live to drag this broken life back and tell your garbage Holy Church: It is best if you never show your faces in this forest again."

With that, he bent down and delivered a light strike to the back of her neck. Rosalie passed out instantly.

Having dealt with the remnants, the dark figure turned around, his glowing red eyes staring straight into the dark thicket where Elara and the Elven warriors were hiding, holding their breath. The smile on his lips suddenly turned eerie.

"They are all dead. Come out."

Silence enveloped them. Not a single person in the Elven group dared to move. It took a long while before Elara took a deep breath.

'We'll die either way; I must be the one to step forward first.'

She stepped out from the bushes, her legs trembling violently as she stammered.

"Sir... Who are you? Why were we closer to the forest... yet you did not kill us?"

The dark figure did not answer. He slowly strode closer. His towering height and the pressure radiating from his blood-soaked body made Elara feel as though she were suffocating. When he stood before her, extending his massive arm forward, Elara squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the killing blow.

"Do not harm the Princess!"

The Elves behind her screamed in panic, drawing their swords and rushing out.

He merely glanced at them and clicked his tongue.

"Well, aren't you the bunch who didn't dare show your faces until now?"

His cold hand slipped around Elara's neck.

Clack! Clang!

The iron collar bearing the slave seal shattered, clattering down onto the rocky ground.

Elara slowly opened her eyes, stunned to see the iron collar on her neck broken as easily as snapping a dry twig.

'No... he isn't hurting me; he is freeing me!'

She hastily turned around and gestured to the entire Elven group.

"Everyone! He means no harm!"

The dark figure stood with his arms crossed, his voice deep.

"Come now, your princess has spoken, yet you still tremble in fear? Am I that terrifying?"

His slightly mocking words eased the tense atmosphere somewhat. The Elven warriors sheathed their swords and stepped forward, each having the shackles on their limbs effortlessly crushed by the dark figure. The entire group fell to their knees, tears welling up in their eyes.

"Thank you, sir... Thank you, our savior!"

He waved his hand dismissively.

"What about those hiding at the edge of the forest? Call them to come along with me, won't you?"

Elara nodded eagerly. She led the way for the dark figure toward the ancient tree roots, where the women and children were huddled and trembling. Under the dim torchlight, Elara finally got a clear look at his strange attire—a combat uniform made of rough fabric, completely unlike anything from any nation on this continent.

Elara stared at the dark figure for a moment before boldly asking.

"In the end... why do people call you the Boogeyman of this land? Is it perhaps because of your fearsome appearance?"

"Well..."

He nonchalantly replied while using his bare hands to break the last remaining cuffs on the children.

"Don't you wonder why there are rumors about me, when anyone who encroaches upon the forest is supposed to perish?"

"I... I'm not sure."

"It's simple. The majority of the survivors who escape the forest are small groups of slaves, usually less than ten people. I let them live to run back. They are the ones who spread the word and created that moniker."

Hearing this, Elara was stunned. An indescribable reverence gleamed in the depths of her eyes. The one the world called a "Demon" was the only person extending a hand to save forsaken lives.

Having finished everything, the strange soldier raised his hand in a salute, turned on his heel, and prepared to step into the dense fog of the deep forest.

"Farewell. You are all free now!"

Driven by instinct, Elara lunged forward, tightly grabbing the hem of his cloak.

"Is there a problem?"

He stopped and tilted his head.

Elara's voice choked with emotion.

"We..."

"We have nowhere else to go. Our homeland has burned to ashes, our families are gone. Could you... perhaps let us come with you?"

The Elves behind her also knelt down in unison, their eyes filled with earnest pleading.

He silently looked at the tragic, ragged remnants of a once-proud race of the green forests, and then he let out a soft sigh.

"Do you really want to? Just beyond the edge of this forest is the territory of countless dangerous beasts. If your minds are made up, then stick close to me."

"We already owe you an immense debt of gratitude!"

Hot tears rolled down Elara's cheeks.

An Elven soldier suddenly exclaimed.

"Hope... we have finally, truly found hope."

He led Elara's entire group onto a trail leading deep into the forest. After walking for about thirty minutes, the group arrived at a dense wall of fog that stretched high into the sky.

From his coat pocket, the soldier pulled out a metal lantern. As soon as he held it, it flared up, emitting an eerie, mystical blue light that pushed back the wall of fog ahead.

"Let's go. I will lead you through this boundary."

Guided by the blue flame, the group of Elves, holding onto each other, gradually disappeared into the murky depths of the Artila Forest.

As dawn began to cast its first rays of sunlight onto the desolate battlefield.

The Sixth Holy Lance Rosalie awoke. Surrounding her were only the scattered corpses of her comrades and soldiers, alongside the smoldering ash of last night's fires.

She struggled to sit up, a sharp pain shooting through her chest.

"Light Magic - Heal!"

A warm, white glow enveloped her body, stemming the bleeding and mending her shattered bones.

Even so, the humiliation and trauma remained deeply etched in her mind. Rosalie picked up her bent greatsword, using it as a cane to stand, and dragged her heavy feet toward the nearest town.

"That man... that absurd power..."

She bit her lip so hard it bled.

"He is truly a monster who cannot be defeated by conventional means. I must bring this news back to the Holy Church!"

**Chapter 1 Information:**

**Elven Princess -Elara-**

* **Appearance:** Platinum blonde hair—a symbol of purebred high-class Elves—and characteristic pointed ears. Height 1.68m, with azure eyes symbolizing nature.

* **Background:** Elven Royalty. After her homeland fell in the war, she and her people were enslaved and prepared to be sold to a Duke of the Holy Kingdom. She has managed to maintain her purity. During her transport, she seized an opportunity to escape with her kin and fled to the Artila Forest.

**The Sixth Holy Lance -Rosalie Seina-**

* **Appearance:** Blonde hair, typically wears bright armor. Height 1.70m. Her distinct feature is her bright white pupils.

* **Background:** One of the "Seven Holy Lances of Virtues," representing Kindness—the 6th Holy Lance. Raised in an orphanage run by the Holy Church, she currently has a younger sister living at the Holy Church's orphanage in the Holy Capital.

The Elven group silently followed one another, advancing through the dense fog.

Leading the way was the soldier in a strange, rough military uniform, unlike any nation they had ever known. In his hand, he held a metal lantern emitting an eerie, mystical blue light, cleaving through the thick wall of fog to pave the way.

As he walked, without turning his head, the soldier spoke in a deep, hoarse voice.

"Hey! Elven Princess, what is your name?"

"It's Elara!"

Elara hastily replied, then timidly asked in return.

"And you... what is your name, sir?"

"What name?"

The soldier raised his armor-clad arm and stared at it for a moment, as if rummaging through his empty memories. Finally, he lowered his arm.

"I have no name! Truly... I have never even thought of having a name."

Elara looked at the massive back ahead of her, her clear eyes gleaming with empathy.

"Then... could you take the name of this land? The God of the Artila Forest. Isn't the name 'Artila' very fitting for you?"

The soldier paused his steps for a beat, then continued walking.

"That will do!"

The group continued their advance. They walked on and on, their exhausted legs dragging for over five kilometers before they could completely step out of the white fog's boundary.

An Elf collapsed onto the withered grass, panting heavily.

"Truly... is the fog in this land always this thick?"

At this moment, the soldier-who had now accepted the name Artila-turned his head to look at Elara. He handed her the lantern.

"Take it! Unless you want to get lost and rot to death in the fog. It is the only thing that can guide you in and out of this place!"

Elara accepted the lantern with both hands and bowed deeply.

"Thank you, sir!"

"Here, you are safe within the inner forest."

Having said that, Artila reached his hand into the void. From a magical spatial storage, he pulled out two massive wild boars that had been cleanly processed and tossed them onto the ground with a heavy thud.

"Rest here for now, and proceed deeper tomorrow morning!"

Elara did not hesitate to kneel on the cold ground.

"Thank you, sir! I truly appreciate your grace!"

"Stand up!"

With only his voice drifting through the wind, by the time Elara raised her head, Artila's towering figure had vanished into the night, leaving not a single sound behind.

"He disappeared?"

Elara took a deep breath, turning back to look at her kin who were fading from hunger and exhaustion.

"Everyone, let's rest here!"

The Elves quickly used the little remaining magic they had left to create a fire, butchering the two wild boars to roast and share among themselves. The flickering flames chased away the cold, and smiles began to gleam on their mud-smeared faces.

Early the next morning.

Elara and the Elven group cleaned up their traces and continued deep into the inner region of the Artila Forest. And then, they all froze, breathless at the sight unfolding before their eyes.

A colossal ancient tree, its trunk so massive that it obscured a patch of the sky, its canopy soaring high to pierce through the cloud layers like a pillar supporting the world.

"This land... No one has ever seen a tree like this before! Perhaps even the Demons have never known of this magnificent existence."

Elara whispered, her eyes wide with awe.

The further they walked, the more overwhelmed the group became.

Surrounding the giant tree were the ruins of a fallen civilization. Shattered towers, majestic fortresses, and gargantuan city walls had now turned to sand and been swallowed by moss. On the boulders were mysterious ancient characters that no one could decipher.

"A perished civilization? What exactly did this place once hold?..."

Thud... Thud... Thud...

The silence was torn apart by heavy footsteps shaking the ground. From behind the ruined walls, two giant humanoid entities, constructed from a mix of rusted metal and ancient wood, were slowly approaching.

The Elven warriors immediately drew their weapons, forming a circular defensive formation.

"Monsters?..."

Elara clutched the lantern tightly.

" 'Even if there were only one of these things, we might not be able to defeat it! This structure... Could they be some form of Guardian Golem?' "

The two entities drew closer. Just as Elara was about to step back to prepare a spell, one of the two machines suddenly halted. Its crooked metal arm slowly raised.

On that crude hand rested a pure white jasmine branch.

It offered the branch as a gesture of peace.

Elara froze, hesitantly pointing at herself.

"For me?"

The machine then emitted "creak... creak..." sounds from within its mechanical core, its head nodding as if to show agreement.

Elara dropped her guard, stepped forward to accept the branch, and brought it to her nose to smell.

"It smells so sweet! Thank you."

Seeing this, the machine nodded, then turned its back and, along with its companion, continued patrolling to protect this ancient land.

"They can be considered the guardians of this land, right? But to be so hospitable... Could it be that Sir Artila went ahead and reminded them?"

An Elven soldier replied.

"That is highly likely, Princess!"

"But the issue now is whether we should live temporarily in these ruins or build houses in the open land outside?"

Elara nodded thoughtfully.

"That's true..."

At this moment, the machine that had just gifted her the flower returned. She recognized it by the sequence of numbers "078" engraved on its left chest.

It approached, extending its long arm to point toward a flat plot of land not far away.

That place was vibrant with the colors of countless fruit trees: apple trees and pear trees heavily laden with juicy fruits.

"You want us to settle there?"

Machine 078 nodded.

"Alright, I understand!"

When the machine led the group to that area, Elara immediately delegated tasks.

The strong ones went hunting and foraging, while a few stayed behind to clear the ground and set up temporary tents.

Suddenly, Machine 078 lowered its center of gravity. From the top of its head, a metal antenna popped up.

Beep... beep... beep... beep...

Only a moment later...

Thud... clomp... thud... clomp...

The ground shook continuously. Dozens of machines with similar shapes

simultaneously approached from every corner of the ruins.

Elara was truly astounded by the number of guardians in this place. 078 began emitting intermittent mechanical sounds, seemingly giving orders and assigning tasks to its kind.

The scene that followed left the entire Elven group stunned.

Those colossal war machines automatically divided themselves up to help them. Some carried massive logs, while others chopped branches to create building materials.

A few even uprooted an entire large apple tree, shook it to drop all the ripe fruits onto the ground for harvesting, and then carefully replanted the tree back into its original spot.

Watching these inanimate machines tirelessly assisting her people, Elara's eyes welled with tears.

"Thank you, sir... and thank you all for your help."

She hastily wiped a teardrop, smiling bitterly.

" 'At least in the past, placing faith in the Holy Church's ridiculous gods only brought hopelessness and despair. When times were truly hard, no one came to help. But now... a wanderer like me has truly found a new hope.' "

After settling the camp area, Elara devised a risky plan. She, along with a group of elite warriors carrying the lantern, passed through the layer of fog to return to the Humans' campsite from last night.

Machine 078 seemed to understand her intentions; it dragged two wooden and iron handcarts out from the ruins and handed them to the group.

Elara crossed her arms over her chest and bowed deeply before 078 to express the profound gratitude of the Elven royal family.

They returned to the battlefield to scavenge everything usable.

When they left, they only had two handcarts, but when they returned, they brought back a full five. From the cargo wagons abandoned by the merchants to rations, weapons, armor, and blankets... Everything that could be utilized for survival, Elara gathered up completely.

To prevent the land from being tainted with filth, she ordered her soldiers to throw the corpses of the Holy Kingdom's people into a fast-flowing stretch of the nearby river.

There was only one thing that left Elara endlessly puzzled during the cleanup.

" 'Strange... I remember clearly that the Sixth Holy Lance was beaten to a pulp by Sir Artila, yet her corpse is not here?' "

At the same time, on the plains dozens of miles away from the Artila Forest.

The Sixth Holy Lance - The Rose of the Holy Church - Rosalie Seina was enduring the most miserable hours of her life.

Her proud silver armor was now warped, a large piece torn away from being violently smashed into the ground. Her body was bruised and bleeding. She had to use her greatsword as a walking cane, struggling to drag her feet step by step to a small town.

Here, she encountered a merchant caravan preparing to return to the Holy Capital.

Rosalie had to grit her teeth and use the little remaining pocket money she had to buy a seat on a carriage. At the very least, she had to return to the Holy Capital to report the details of this horrific incident.

The merchant caravan leader looked at her appearance and spoke in a teasing, highly sarcastic tone.

"Well, well! Why is the Rose of the Holy Church so battered? Just yesterday I saw you proudly carrying your sword alongside the Duke's party to hunt Elves, and now you return looking half-dead like this? And why are you alone? Could it be that the Sixth Holy Lance lost to a bunch of Elven slaves wearing shackles?"

Rosalie bit her lip so hard it bled, an overwhelming sense of humiliation rising within her. She forced a reply.

"I... I... Sigh! The Demon of the Artila

Forest... it truly exists!"

"The Demon of the Artila Forest?"

The merchant curled his lip.

"It's just some nonsense legend to scare children!"

"But... But it swung its axe once and slaughtered an entire army!"

"Hahahaha!"

The merchant burst into uncontrollable laughter.

"If you're going to lie, at least make sense, girl! If it's that strong, then why are you the only one still alive and kicking here? Did a bloodthirsty demon suddenly spare the life of the Sixth Holy Lance like yourself?"

"The truth... that really is the truth!"

"Oh, really? Then if you bring this truth back and report it to the Holy Church, they will 'surely' believe you! Hahaha! I'm dying of laughter!"

Rosalie bowed her head in shame.

"I cannot explain any further. Believe it or not, that's up to you!"

But deep down, what made Rosalie tremble in fear right now wasn't how terrifying that monster was.

The thing that caused her to panic so much that her hands holding her chin wouldn't stop shaking, was the Holy Church and the Duke.

An entire army wiped out, and only she-and solely she-survived to return in one piece. There would be no one to testify to what she said. The Holy Church would undoubtedly view her as a deserter, making up stories to hide her incompetence. They would strip her of all protection.

And worst of all, the Duke would take this opportunity to demote her to a slave to pay off the debt for the failed shipment.

A life in the hands of a brutal Duke... she didn't dare think any further.

As night fell, the caravan stopped to set up camp.

Rosalie lay huddled in the corner of the carriage, her face streaked with tears, but she had to bite her hand tightly to keep from crying out loud.

She was not alone; she also had a younger sister at the Holy Capital's orphanage. If she were to be deposed and turned into a slave, what would happen to her younger sister? Cast out into the streets, or sold into the filthy brothels of the nobility?

How could she explain this to preserve her life against the executioner's blade of the Holy Church and the Duke? To what extent would her honor and dignity be trampled upon?

She didn't know. She only knew that darkness was truly surrounding her fate.

Resting her head on the stalks of straw, Rosalie could only cry alone in the worn-out carriage.

" ' Sob... sob ... I need to do something to prepare for my little sister's safety! Yes... I must act soon!' "

Chapter 2 Information:

078 - Autonomous Machine:

Energy: (Damaged Plutonium core) Utilizes solar and wind energy to maintain operations.

Function: Guardian, protecting the central area and the Giant Tree.

Weapons: Basic combat system (Left arm integrated with a machine gun, right arm is a metallic melee fist).

Mechanism: Operates on a semi-programmed mechanism (Automated patrol with the ability to receive direct commands from the manager).

God of Artila:

Appearance: Giant humanoid physique, 2.20 meters tall. Wears a worn-out, dark brown tactical military uniform, practical but bearing no military rank or insignia. Possesses white hair and eyes as glowing red as the flames of vengeance, easily mistaken for a demon in the dark.

Authority: Has the ability to sense any geographical/biological changes throughout the entire area.

Structure of the Artila Forest:

Basic Terrain: Centered around the Giant Tree. Encompassed by a closed, circular river, combined with a long river branch that bisects the forest.

Outer Forest: A radius of about 8km. The densest forest area, overgrown with trees and containing the most wild beasts.

Fog Zone: A radius of about 3km. Thick fog persists year-round, stretching from the ground straight up into the blue clouds. Looks normal from a distance until one steps right up to its boundary.

Inner Forest: A radius of about 5km (measured from the fog boundary to the center). A sparse forest area, interweaving treeless grassy clearings and small clusters of woods.

Central Zone: A radius of about 3km (measured from the edge of the inner forest to the Giant Tree). The concentrated area of ruins and colossal architectural heritage from a perished civilization.