Chapter 1: The Bloody Battle of Artila Forest

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.

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