### Chapter 116: Light and Dark (Thirteen)
The sunlight was obscured by dark clouds, making the rising morning feel dim and stifling, as if one couldn’t breathe.
Old Leikmon stood at the street corner, riding his Horned Horse, surrounded by a line of defensive troops. Soldiers poured in from streets all around, rushing toward the church three blocks away. The army’s organization had long since unraveled, with cavalry mixing haphazardly with infantry. Every face displayed a gloomy expression, morale nearly at rock bottom.
Old Leikmon was no exception.
His weathered face bore deep fatigue, with bloodshot whites in his eyes. He silently stared at the distant church, majestic yet obscured by rows of houses, until someone broke the silence.
“Lord Leikmon!”
A figure clad in military attire rode a Horned Horse into view from around the corner, weaving through the ranks and stopping just in front of him.
Old Leikmon cast a faint glance at the newcomer and nodded slightly.
“Speak.”
The man hesitated before speaking, “My lord, the captain of the light infantry third squad, Baron Mihos… he has declared he will no longer participate and has vowed to abandon the Leikmon family. He has already taken the remaining eight hundred soldiers and left. The first squad and some cavalry have followed suit; their numbers are hard to track, and they’re preparing to leave the city immediately…”
Old Leikmon nodded again, “Hmm, I understand.”
His tone held no emotional inflection.
The officer hesitated momentarily, then asked, “Are we just going to let them go?”
Without hesitation, Old Leikmon replied, “Let them go.”
“This…”
The officer grew increasingly indecisive, as if grappling with unspoken doubts. He looked awkwardly at Old Leikmon, who had turned his gaze back to the church. After a moment, he slowly said, “Inform the Iron Guard that the defeated troops supporting Elizabeth are trying to escape.”
The officer’s pupils dilated.
“Understood.”
He replied in a subdued tone, bowed, and silently slipped away through the alley.
Not long after he left, another officer arrived on horseback and halted before Old Leikmon.
“My lord, the arsonist has arrived.”
Old Leikmon simply glanced at him and said nothing.
He remained entranced, staring at the church in the distance, gazing at the core structure of the royal city’s church, lost in thought.
Old Leikmon knew all too well that after today, he would bear the unpardonable sin that would not be forgiven by the world. Anxiety and panic brewed in him, but he struggled to keep his emotions off his face.
Since earlier, he had been wracking his brain, pondering how to evade this guilt. He stood rooted, not daring to move forward, hesitant to approach the church even a fraction. He knew the highly respected Saint was within; if she saw him, there would be no room for negotiation.
But after considering all angles, Old Leikmon felt… there truly seemed to be no way out.
For a fleeting moment, he thought to himself: if only he could be like his irresponsible son, abandon family ties, and swear unwavering loyalty to Her Majesty the Queen… How wonderful it would be to be young, reckless, and carefree.
Ah, forget it…
Let me atone with my life.
Leikmon was old, but the Leikmon family remained young. As long as most of them survived, as long as they were still alive, the family would not perish.
The Holy Church was not a heartless institution; it wouldn’t drag down a family because of one person’s mistakes. Given the situation, Old Leikmon could only hope his actions wouldn’t implicate them and that his son, who remained steadfast at the royal palace, would show a bit of flexibility and avoid meeting his end at the hands of the lurking wolves outside the city.
He ordered his men to shed their armor and blend in with the civilians, quietly heading to the church to set a fire. He hoped this fire would ignite, burn as fiercely as possible.
Elizabeth was poisoned and unconscious; she couldn’t move. If this fire could consume her outright, that would be absolutely perfect. But if not, at least it might delay the Saint.
There were so many civilians in the church; once the fire caught, the Saint would have to step in to extinguish it. Old Leikmon had witnessed the miracle of rain before and knew it wasn’t a simple feat. Even the Saint would need considerable time and energy; she would temporarily leave Her Majesty the Queen. And amidst the chaos in the church, the two mysterious figures in black cloaks would seize their chance. He would track down Elizabeth’s position and eliminate her swiftly.
Meanwhile, Old Leikmon and the guard’s task was to attract the attention of everyone inside the church.
He understood: this was the only opportunity.
Otherwise, when Elizabeth woke up, even if the Iron Guard were victorious and seized the royal palace, its significance would be questionable. As long as the legitimate heir to the throne remained alive, the cunning Laikes would never genuinely sit on that seat and would not withstand the impending furious retribution.
Everything he did, and the infamy he would bear in the future, would ultimately be meaningless.
May everything go smoothly…
Old Leikmon had never believed in the Church’s dogma, but at this moment, he couldn’t help but close his eyes and begin a fervent prayer to the Deity in his heart.
Not long after, a thick plume of smoke finally rose from the direction of the church.
Seeing this scene, a flicker of light appeared in Old Leikmon’s murky, dull eyes.
He turned to the waiting officer, “Organize the light infantry and the remaining cavalry to quickly surround the church.”
“Understood!”
The officer replied loudly. He bit his lip, as if wanting to say something more, but ultimately said nothing, just gazing deeply into the eyes of the man he served, meeting the resolute gaze that sparkled with a glimmer of determination. Taking a deep breath, he turned with a squad of cavalry and charged toward the church.
Old Leikmon watched the officer depart, muttering, “Old friend, victory and defeat…”
But the words never reached completion.
In the next moment, a horrible black smoke burst into the sky from the church, with an ominous force that seemed to twist and snake toward him.
Old Leikmon narrowed his eyes at the deathly smoke above.
It had finally come…
At this moment, he couldn’t even muster the will to be wary. All he could ponder was what terrifying entity had rescued Elizabeth while slaughtering so many guards.
Boom—
He watched as the black smoke slammed into a distant street, the mist billowing up from behind a row of houses. Old Leikmon could hear the agonized screams and terror of his soldiers. Even if he couldn’t see, he could imagine that this black mist was devouring countless strong figures as it had before.
His loyal soldiers began to retreat, panic-stricken individuals fleeing wildly beside him. The black smoke rampaged in the distance, sweeping across the street with the ruthless force of a tide, accompanied by numerous haunting cries, rapidly approaching.
Old Leikmon looked at the terrifying scene before him, his lips quivering. Just before the warm tears could slip down, he slowly shut his eyes, listening to the screams drawing closer, a smirk of irony tugging at his lips.
“Ultimately… time is not on my side…”
He quietly awaited d*ath, anticipating the smoke to engulf him.
However, the anticipated event didn’t unfold.
The agonized screams of soldiers echoed from all directions. After a moment, Old Leikmon found it strange and slowly opened his eyes again.
The black smoke had vanished, revealing a mass of soldiers fleeing in the opposite direction, their eyes wide with fear and despair. Some dropped their blades, unfastened their armor, and nearly n*ked, tried to make themselves quicker.
Old Leikmon was baffled by what had happened. He scanned the surroundings, and suddenly, the sound of hooves reached him. He watched as the officer who had led the troops away just moments ago abruptly returned, charging out from the corner with his men, his eyes shining with a terrifying glint, racing toward him.
Old Leikmon instinctively sensed something was wrong but had no time to react. He blurted out, “Old friend, what—”
In the next moment, the fierce figure that had rushed beside him, his longtime subordinate and most trusted ally, screamed at him as if seeing something horrifying, “Monster!” With that, he raised his blade.
Thud.
Old Leikmon felt a blur before his eyes. He then saw his own headless body on the back of the beast.
This was the last image etched in his mind.
