"What happened?"
"Pete and Kark are dead!" someone growled, disbelief in his voice.
The cavalrymen, who had been asleep moments ago, sprang up one after another, scrambling to grab their weapons and scanning their surroundings warily. Yet apart from the silence pierced by the night wind, there was no sign of anything unusual in the camp.
The cavalry captain quickly pushed his way to the two bodies. His gaze swept over Pete's corpse, and the bloody hole in his throat made him frown deeply. He reached out and touched the still-warm neck, then looked toward Kark nearby. Kark's jaw and head had nearly been torn apart, blood streaming continuously down his neck. The captain pressed his lips together and said in a low voice, "Killed in one strike... Pete was pierced by a spear, while Kark had his head penetrated by a Magic Arrow. The enemy is extremely strong and acts decisively."
The cavalrymen who had just gathered around turned pale. They had thought it was some accident, but now it was clear that an enemy truly existed—and was likely a cold-blooded killer. They quickly formed a defensive formation, though panic still showed plainly on their faces.
"Captain, the horses... the horses all seem to have collapsed!" someone shouted fearfully from the crowd.
"What?!" The captain spun around and looked toward the Black Scale Horses lying on the ground. The darkness made it impossible to see clearly, but the warhorses showed no reaction at all, their breathing even as if they were sound asleep.
"Forget the horses! Gather together and prepare for battle!" the captain ordered loudly, trying to calm them down. "Borton! Find a way! We have to locate the enemy!"
Borton, the mage of the group, swiftly pulled a magic lamp glowing with pale blue light from his