As the team crossed the mountain ridge, the full view of Blackstone Town finally appeared before their eyes.
The settlement wasn't large—just a rough wall of thick logs and stones encircled it like a fragile shield.
Now, that flimsy line of defense was under brutal attack.
A chaotic horde of monsters swarmed at the wooden gates and walls.
The most numerous among them were half-human, half-snake creatures. Their upper bodies were coated in dull gray-green scales, muscular arms brandished rusty scimitars or bone spears, and their lower halves were thick serpentine tails that slithered rapidly across the ground.
These were the "Magic Snake Claw" mentioned in the earlier intelligence—clearly some variant of snake-people.
Mixed among them were several hulking Poison Marsh Lizards—massive, ox-sized beasts with dark brown hides, covered in keratinous plates. Green venom dripped constantly from their jaws, and each impact of their charge made the wooden wall groan under strain.
Above, a handful of Corrupted-Winged Flying Snakes circled, their wingspans over two meters wide. The wings looked like rotting leather, and whenever they found an opening, they dove down with piercing screeches, snatching soldiers or civilians from the ground and dropping them from the sky.
The town's defenses were on the brink of collapse.
A handful of militiamen stood atop the walls, armed with spears and short bows, their counterattacks feeble against the monstrous tide. People were constantly struck by thrown spears or splattered with the lizards' venom, falling to the ground screaming in agony.
The heavy gate had already cracked, its timbers split and groaning, ready to give way at any moment.
Behind the horde stood a figure draped in a tattered black robe, clutching a snake-shaped wooden staff topped with a skull. His face was hidden beneath his hood, revealing only a pair of eerie, green-glowing eyes.
He moved with ritualistic rhythm, chanting low incantations while flicks of his staff unleashed streaks of dark green light—either empowering his monstrous followers or blasting the guards on the walls directly.
"It's the Shadow Snake Priest!"
The old Great Knight riding beside Robert exclaimed, his voice heavy with dread.
"Damn it—Hydra's claws! That priest will be trouble!"
Shadow Snake Priests were infamous for their cunning and their mastery of poison and shadow magic.
"Prepare for battle!"
Robert drew the knight's longsword from his waist; the blade gleamed coldly in the sunlight.
He could feel the fear of the townsfolk, the despair clinging to the air, and the foul, chaotic aura radiating from the monsters.
"Lord, we—" one knight began, hesitating. The enemy was many, and among them stood a dangerous spellcaster.
Robert didn't turn. His voice was firm and resolute.
"We are the guardians of Blackstone Territory. Our people are being slaughtered below those walls. Knights—draw your swords! For glory! For the territory! With me—charge!"
Before he finished shouting, Robert had already spurred his horse forward, thundering down the slope like an arrow loosed from its string.
He knew his title alone wasn't enough to inspire loyalty—but courage was. Leading the charge himself was the only way to ignite his knights' hearts.
Aide, his captain and loyal guard, immediately followed, sword drawn, his armor gleaming. Seeing them, the rest of the knights unsheathed their blades and roared as one, forming a tight wedge formation.
Even Bolin, seasoned and cautious, was stirred by Robert's fearless example.
If this young lord—who had not yet even broken through to become a true Great Knight—could charge without hesitation, what excuse did an old veteran like him have to shrink back?
"Charge!"
Their unified cry echoed through the valley, blood-boiling and thunderous. The knights spurred their warhorses, galloping straight into the chaos below.
"Meow!"
The silver-furred creature Moonlight sensed the rising tide of battle and let out a fierce roar. With a burst of speed, it bounded forward like a streak of silver lightning and leapt into Robert's arms.
The appearance of reinforcements—knights in shining armor descending from the ridge—electrified the beleaguered defenders.
For a heartbeat they froze in disbelief, then the walls erupted in cheers.
"Reinforcements! Reinforcements are here!"
Down below, the Shadow Snake Priest Slark noticed the sudden charge.
A flicker of surprise glimmered in his green eyes, quickly twisting into malice.
"Fools who don't know their place! Kill them!"
He shrieked and slammed his staff into the ground, directing a portion of the snake-people and several Poison Marsh Lizards toward the charging knights.
As hooves thundered across the field, Aide overtook Robert, fulfilling his duty as captain by guarding his lord's flank.
"Kill!" he roared, his sword flashing like lightning.
The blade cut cleanly through the scales of a snake-man, spilling a spray of dark green blood.
The creature didn't even scream before being flung aside by the sheer force of impact.
Aide didn't pause. With a swift twist of his wrist, he struck again, slicing through two more snake-men who lunged from either side.
At his level—a peak Great Knight—these low-tier monsters were nothing but fodder.
Behind him, the knights crashed into the horde like a hammer.
Their superior armor and weapons gave them the edge, their disciplined formation slicing through the disorganized monsters.
Lances pierced through the soft bellies of the Poison Marsh Lizards; greatswords split open the spines of snake-men.
But the monsters' numbers were overwhelming, and under the priest's dark blessings they fought like mad beasts, unflinching even as their comrades fell.
A Poison Marsh Lizard reared back, its throat swelling before spitting a jet of green venom toward a knight.
He reacted in time, raising his shield—acid hissed and smoked as it struck, corroding the metal.
Nearby, the air filled with shrieks as several Corrupted-Winged Flying Snakes dove from above, their talons raking across helmets and breastplates.
Two knights were torn from their saddles, crashing to the ground. Only their heavy armor spared them from immediate death.
Seeing his men in danger, Robert's eyes hardened.
He patted Moonlight's small head. "Moonlight, use your magic—blast those stinking snakes out of the sky!"
Moonlight tilted its head proudly and let out a spirited "Awoo!"
In the next instant, silver-white lightning rained from the heavens.
The bolts struck with deadly precision—two of the winged snakes were hit squarely and fell burning to the ground, while the rest screeched in terror and veered away, no longer daring to descend.
The fallen creatures were swiftly dispatched by the knights' blades; without their aerial advantage, their fragile bodies offered no resistance.
"Well done, Moonlight!"
Robert praised, swinging his sword once more. His blade cleaved into the skull of a charging Poison Marsh Lizard, splitting it cleanly in half.
All around him, the knights pressed forward, their momentum unstoppable.
Seeing the reinforcements fight so fiercely, the morale of the town militia surged.
They shouted and redoubled their efforts, their arrows and spears raining down upon the monsters still at the gate.
Slark, the Shadow Snake Priest, watched from afar, his expression twisting with rage.
"Useless… all of you, useless trash!" he hissed, slamming his staff into the earth.
Dark energy rippled out, but he already knew the outcome. This surprise assault was doomed to fail.
If he stayed any longer, he might not escape alive.
While barking his last commands—ordering the surviving monsters to fight to the death—he began to retreat, his form blurring.
His body melted into the shadows beneath him, merging with the darkness like a phantom.
Moments later, the shadow flickered and vanished completely, leaving no trace behind.
The battlefield quieted gradually. The remaining snake-men, bereft of their priest's control, fought in confusion before being cut down or fleeing into the woods.
The Poison Marsh Lizards, leaderless, hissed and scattered.
At last, the battered gates of Blackstone Town creaked open, and townsfolk poured out to greet their saviors.
Robert dismounted, his armor streaked with blood and mud, his sword still dripping.
The old Great Knight approached, bowing deeply. "Lord Robert… your bravery turned the tide today. The people will remember this."
Robert wiped his blade clean, his gaze sweeping over the ruined battlefield.
The corpses of snake-men littered the ground, their blood mixing with the green venom of the lizards.
He sheathed his sword slowly.
"This victory came at a cost," he murmured. "But it proved one thing—Blackstone still stands."
Moonlight leapt onto his shoulder, tail swishing proudly as thunder rumbled faintly in the distance.
Robert looked toward the forest where Slark had vanished, eyes narrowing.
"The Shadow Snake Priest escaped… but not for long."
The knights behind him raised their swords high, cheering in triumph.
For now, the territory was safe—but deep within the Poison Marsh, Hydra's dark cult would not rest.
This battle was only the beginning.