### Chapter 25: Cool Night
“Phew, phew…”
Run.
Desperate, wild running.
“Phew, phew, phew—”
Fiery breaths surged from his throat, making it feel like he was being roasted alive. The cold air he inhaled did nothing to ease the fiery sensation, slithering through his body like a thousand tiny snakes, stealing away every last ounce of warmth. His legs moved like a malfunctioning machine, stumbling uncontrollably.
The knight named Barry was lost in a fog of confusion. He had dropped his sword during the earlier fight, and his right arm was slashed open with a deep wound, bl**d trickling down as he pressed one hand against it and pushed through the thick brush ahead, not daring to look back, just fleeing for his life.
His eyes, nearly hidden by dirty hair, hinted at a smidge of rage, a tad of confusion, and a vast expanse of despair.
Behind him, footsteps drew nearer.
d*mn it…
d*mn it all!
He struggled to catch his breath, craving more speed, but his long-standing hunger and severe dehydration had left him utterly weak. His lips cracked, his face pale; after just a short sprint, he felt like he was drowning in the air, his hands tingling, legs growing less cooperative, sweat drenched his hair and stuck it to his face, creating a blurry world.
Barry suddenly thought about just collapsing right there on the ground and never getting up again.
In a daze, fragments from long ago flickered in his mind—days when he was seen as a hero by the townsfolk.
Back then, as he strode through the streets near the castle, people would gaze at him, awestruck by his bright silver armor symbolic of the glorious Third Knights Order. Their faces, filled with admiration and respect, would momentarily dance in his foggy memory, as if it all happened just yesterday.
But those faces? They would never gaze upon him again.
Time seemed to slow in that moment.
When had it all changed…?
Again, Barry found himself lost in these thoughts, wondering how it came to be that knights, who fought fiercely against heretics and built walls of flesh and bl**d to protect the countless citizens of the Western Continent, ending up as mere scurrying rats, fleeing in shame…
He still couldn’t wrap his mind around it today.
When did they become a band of sinners, seduced by demons, every bit as vile as the heretics they fought?
Things shouldn’t have turned out this way…
This wasn’t the fate and treatment those valiant warriors who bled for the people deserved!
He originally aspired that in ten, twenty years’ time, through his own bravery, resilience, fairness, and honor—despite having no extraordinary talent—he could be respected by thousands, a great hero like Captain Williams himself.
Barry truly believed that one day, he and his Little Shay would stand side by side, swords drawn, confidently charging into the infinite abyss, united as siblings to easily slay any monsters that might inspire fear, with their blade in hand.
He had even bickered with Little Shay over this!
That was something she hadn’t changed her mind about either.
There was a time, after surviving the brutal battlefields, when Barry daydreamed about the adoration of the people towards their heroes—a heartfelt, instinctive respect that would only feed the flames of determination burning in his heart.
But now…
He could hardly remember those emotions.
Now it felt like his fiery passion had been burned away by hunger, confusion, despair, and relentless self-doubt, leaving him numb, like a walking corpse.
Sometimes, it even felt like he forgot what it meant to be alive.
Why…
Why did it all have to end so absurdly?
Barry could not understand.
He could not comprehend why, two years ago, he and his comrades faced their deaths with resolute bravery, standing against the world’s most fearsome enemies, fighting through bloody chaos where many noble warriors fell… yet they survived, winning the war.
But why…
After the war ended, when citizens’ lives began to improve and things seemed to settle down… why was it such a complete disaster?
Hundreds of them…
Hundreds of heroes, who fought valiantly against the powerful heretics to protect the deity’s citizens.
On that unforgettable night, buried deep in his memories, they were wrongfully accused and attacked by those they fought so desperately to protect in the city they had safeguarded with their lives. Outnumbered and outmatched, they perished in that suffocating rage.
Barry survived simply because Lilith helped him from the shadows.
He really couldn’t make sense of it all.
In the year that followed—he’d lost track of how long it had actually been, but it felt like an eternity, maybe close to a year—he went from hiding to sneaking out of the city with Lilith’s help, only to ultimately end up hiding in a relatively safe area outside the city after running out of food and with comrades falling ill from their injuries. During this time, he’d pondered and pondered.
Yet he couldn’t figure out what it was all about.
He didn’t even know what he was supposed to do next or how to keep living.
If it weren’t for yet another lack of updates from Grandma…
He probably would’ve given up on life long ago.
…
“Ah—!”
Suddenly, while stumbling in his escape, he heard a cry of pain beside him, followed by someone collapsing. The bounty hunters had caught up, tackling his companion, who rolled in the grass and mud, screaming like a scared beast.
That knight was someone who fought alongside him and later kept low, sharing a spot in the Third Knights’ infirmary. He was the only other warrior left standing from the infirmary besides Barry.
Barry remembered how he carried him down from the walls, saw him gritting his teeth in pain during the nights, determined to keep quiet so others could rest…
A tough guy, who, once he recovered, had fought alongside him and Mor against the fierce heretics…
That fierceness everyone had back then was now but a vague memory.
What stuck more clearly in his mind were images of himself, filthy and stinking, curled up in the waterlogged depths of the well, hollow eyes and a gaunt face, followed by the memory of him covering his face and crying weakly.
“Barry…”
He heard the faint call from behind, instinctively turning to look, only to see his companion pinned in the foul-smelling muck, struggling under the weight of an attacker. He wanted to fight back, but his right arm was long gone from the flames of battle, and the knight’s sword that once never left his side was lost in the chaos of fleeing…
If saving Lilith was fueled by anger, then after everything going on right now, the man had lost even the last ounce of struggle he had left.
“Bar…ry…”
The monster on top of him had no trouble gripping his neck, and in the darkness, Barry could see those bulging eyes nearly popping out. The glint of a raised dagger reflected the sense of impending doom and the pain-shredded face of his attacker, straining to vocalize a desperate hoarse cry.
“Save… me…”
Barry hesitated for but a moment.
But he soon decided to keep running.
He no longer believed in those heroic tales.
Going back…
Was merely delivering another life to the grave.
“There’s one more! There’s one more!”
“Don’t let him get away—”
“Phew… phew… phew…”
The sound of blades slicing through the air, mingled with frantic shouts and his own ragged breaths, echoed painfully in the night.
He recalled the desperate cries of his friend behind him, reminding him of the blazing Alectine City, filled with such screams; it was a longing passion to protect something that had long since faded away.
In that moment, Barry could only think of one thing.
These people…
Were they the citizens we fought tooth and nail to defend back then?
Suddenly, a rustling from the bushes made him turn instinctively to see another shadow lunging toward him.
“Hand over the human head!”
“You filthy worm, corrupted by demons—”
The shadow closed in with a cheerfully menacing shout; at that moment, Barry wanted to dodge, but he simply didn’t have the strength.
“Ugh!”
The figure slammed into him, the impact hitting his shoulder first, making him grunt. Before he knew it, he lost his balance, and they tumbled together, rolling around in the mud, his head banging into the ground, stars bursting in his vision.
A despair like ashes filled his heart, but he fought back instinctively, the assailant brandishing a sword. Barry managed to dodge the swing with a turn of his head, then slammed his forehead into the attacker’s face. He heard a cry of pain, a flicker of satisfaction surged within him as warm bl**d splattered on his face.
“Ughhhh—”
Barry roared in fury, wrestling in the mud with the attacker, one hand grabbing the sword blade, bl**d oozing between his fingers as the other hand clawed at his throat. They rolled around in the slippery grass until eventually, Barry found himself pinned down.
His eyes wild and red, his mouth filled with mud and grass, every ounce of strength he had was waning, the ruthless pursuer slowly pressing the sword down, the sharp tip threatening to pierce his neck.
“d*mn… you…”
Barry realized he was about to d*e here.
“Ughhhh!”
He let out one last scream, reaching out with his left hand, desperate to claw out the attacker’s eye before he met his end.
Thud—
Suddenly, a strange sound echoed from above, and he felt the weight on him abruptly shift and release.
In the next moment, a jet of warm bl**d erupted from above, soaking him head to toe.
