"Sir Knight… are all princesses like this?"
Walking beside Duanmu Huai, Lorena whispered the question while glancing ahead at Mistrina, who was leading the group with an almost childlike enthusiasm.
Duanmu Huai immediately understood what she meant. Mistrina's temperament reminded him far too much of Anne—headstrong, decisive, and somewhat reckless once she set her mind on something. The only difference was that Anne's curiosity was far more intense. But the stubbornness, the willfulness, the "I've decided, and that's final" attitude… exactly the same.
If those two ever met, they'd probably get along way too well.
Meanwhile, the small figure of Milfi trudging dejectedly beside Mistrina gave Duanmu Huai the distinct impression of seeing a miniature replay of Anne and Guleya walking together.
Poor girls… both destined to be exasperated by their superiors.
Come to think of it, this party of his was turning into a princess brigade.
There was Bambi perched on his shoulder, happily gazing around with wide eyes; Mistrina and Milfi leading the way; and then the ones not present—Anne and Guleya. Maybe he should just rename his Warband to The Princess Alliance.
Lorena would probably approve of that name—certainly more than Pink Bunny Squadron, anyway.
Still… "Pink Bunny Squadron" did have a certain charm.
Along the way, Mistrina shared another version of the legend passed down among her forest people. According to their belief, the Golden Tree wasn't the true creator of all things. It was merely a manifestation. The real creator was the Mother of the Earth.
They called her that because, deep underground, enormous hands sometimes grew out of the earth—colossal fingers that the Finger Witches used to channel divine will. To the forestfolk, those fingers were literally the hands of the goddess—the fingers of the Earth Mother herself.
The forestfolk, however, believed the Earth Mother had gone mad, her mind lost to chaos and her voice incomprehensible. But Mistrina disagreed. She believed that someone needed to reach her—to speak with her directly. Doing nothing, in her eyes, would only make things worse.
The rest of her people, though, had long rejected the idea. After the disastrous fate of the last expedition, none dared to repeat it. Their numbers were few, and another failed venture could mean extinction.
So when Mistrina met Duanmu Huai and saw his power firsthand, she immediately decided to join forces with him. With the strength of these mysterious outsiders, perhaps she could reach the Golden Tree and seek answers from the Earth Mother herself.
Along the way, they encountered more of the so-called Golden Legion—soldiers clad in armor, remnants of the ancient Golden Tribe. At first, they seemed almost normal. But the moment they saw Duanmu Huai's party, they howled and charged without hesitation.
Their attacks were little more than a nuisance to Duanmu Huai. He even tried to capture a few alive for questioning—but the soldiers were beyond reason. Their eyes were empty, their screams bestial.
"They are cursed," Mistrina explained gravely. "Trapped between life and death. Their bodies cannot die, but their souls have shattered, leaving only rage and madness."
Eternal flesh did not mean eternal spirit.
Now, these undying warriors fought only out of hatred—for any who still lived.
Of course, mere cursed soldiers were no threat to Duanmu Huai's group. Even their strongest knights were crushed under a single swing of his hammer. Lorena and Olgis alone could sweep through their ranks with ease.
Even Bambi and Odelle found their rhythm—Bambi summoning swarms of bats to blind the soldiers while Odell sent volleys of black feathers piercing through their armor.
Their combined magic wasn't overwhelmingly powerful, but it was more than enough to wipe out the small fry.
After all—Odelle's attacks hit everyone.
As for Milfi and Mistrina, they both fought as well, though their contributions were… uneven. Milfi darted through the battlefield like a literal mouse, her tiny frame barely visible between the towering soldiers as she jabbed with her rapier whenever she found an opening. Whether those stabs actually hurt anyone was another matter entirely.
Mistrina, however, fought with surprising skill.
With shield in her right hand and sword in her left, she moved with disciplined precision—less like a pampered princess and more like a seasoned knight.
Especially when she countered—
Clang!
A maddened soldier swung his warhammer at her, roaring like a beast. Mistrina's eyes flashed. She stepped in, slammed her shield upward, knocking the hammer aside, then in one smooth motion brought her sword down—cleanly severing his head.
"Well done," Duanmu Huai remarked with approval. Her technique was sound—disrupting the opponent's balance by striking the leverage point, then delivering a killing blow before they could recover. Effective, elegant, practical.
Of course, he didn't need that kind of finesse.
Her technique was clever, but Duanmu Huai preferred the direct approach—overwhelming strength. With his sheer power, any foe requiring such delicate counters would likely be dead long before he could perform them.
If he did try to mimic her… well, odds were he'd still be winding up his shield swing while his opponent was already stabbing him through the chest.
Yeah. Better to stick with the hammer. Fast. Simple. Satisfying.
"It's nothing special," Mistrina said modestly, smiling at his praise. But her expression darkened as she gazed down at the fading ashes of her fallen opponent.
"It's such a cruel fate… to know they'll rise again."
"You know this?" Duanmu Huai asked.
"Yes. The previous expedition wrote of it."
Mistrina sighed. "They recorded how the enemies they fought so hard to defeat would rise again the next day. Despair spread through the ranks. Their morale collapsed. Eventually, they couldn't even bring themselves to fight."
She lowered her head, voice soft. "I understand their feelings. If only they had been more cautious back then…"
It wasn't really the expedition's fault. No sane person would expect the dead to simply resurrect overnight.
They had even cleared their battlefields carefully, preparing paths for reinforcements—never imagining that their slain foes would reappear. By the time they realized the truth, it was too late—they were deep within the Lands Between, with no way out.
"According to the records," Mistrina continued, "the survivors split into two factions. One wanted to push forward and uncover the source of the curse. The other wanted to retreat."
"But judging from how things turned out, the first group must've prevailed," Duanmu Huai said.
"They had no choice," she sighed. "Half their comrades were already dead. If they turned back, they'd likely lose the rest—and gain nothing. So they pressed on, hoping to find something—anything—worth the sacrifice."
"Then that's enough for today."
Duanmu Huai finally stopped and looked around. They had marched through several checkpoints and were now beneath the ruined city. It was late; storm winds howled outside, and it wasn't wise to keep moving.
Not far away stood a cluster of old, half-collapsed houses. Duanmu Huai pointed toward them.
"We'll rest there for the night and move on at first light."
No one objected. Everyone was exhausted from the constant fighting. They followed him toward one of the ruined huts—
But just as they approached, a voice suddenly called out.
"Who's there?"
A person?!
The group froze, startled. Peering into the dim hut, they saw a young woman curled up by the wall beside a small fire, her body tense, eyes wide with fear as she stared back at them.
Someone was actually alive here?
Duanmu Huai blinked, then quickly composed himself. He raised a hand in a calming gesture.
"Hello there. We're travelers, just passing through. We only need shelter for the night—if you don't mind."
The woman hesitated, then nodded slightly.
"…Do as you please," she murmured. "I'm… just a wanderer myself."
Her quiet reply faded into the crackle of the fire.
(End of Chapter)