Lord of White Oak! Presenting!

While Murphy and his Little Players were setting up an ambush to deal with the transport team and engaging in a life-or-death struggle with the elites of the Wolfsbane Clan, similar developments were occurring elsewhere on the battlefield.

The moment the camp erupted in flames, Miss Femis dispatched Madam Adele with several elite Blood Servants to return. Their primary mission was to find Murphy and deliver a message, and also to investigate what the hell had happened at the camp.

Madam Adele, already sensing that things were not good, headed alone towards Murphy's defense zone. Meanwhile, the Blood Servants under her command were directed back to the burning camp, where they happened to run head-on into four Witch Hunters who were attempting to leave.

"Kill!"

The five elite Blood Servants acted without hesitation. The moment they spotted the enemy, they charged forward, gripping their war spears. Although they, like Maxim, were servants of the vampires, being kept close by the Midnight Hunters proved they were meticulously trained "reservists" of the vampire race, with combat capabilities comparable to the elites in human armies.

Furthermore, they had been empowered by their vampire masters with Dark Psionics, making them unafraid of the Witch Hunters.

What was darkly humorous was that due to the severe weakening vampires suffered under sunlight, these armed Blood Servant armies were, in fact, the true main force of Cadman City and the entire Transylvania Region.

"Vampire dogs! Die!"

The four Witch Hunters had been terribly tormented, but now they were resolved to die. In the midst of the raging inferno of the camp, they grabbed their weapons and fought against the Blood Servants.

"Little Natalie! Go quickly! We'll hold off these dogs."

The one-armed veteran, Potter, fitted a Combat Claw onto his hand and lunged forward, tackling a Blood Servant to the ground.

The two of them fought like famished beasts in the firelight, each aiming to sink their fangs into the other's throat. The other veteran beside him, Norman, was in a similar state. His skin had been torn open, but he fought on as if he felt no pain, dragging his broken body forward in silent combat.

But they were not just fighting for the sake of fighting.

The veteran's hoarse cry made Hunter Natalie's heart tremble. She knew everyone was looking out for her, and even in this desperate situation, they were fighting to the death to cover her escape.

However, this care felt like a burden.

From the start of the Ten Years' War until now, she had lost too many friends and comrades, surviving countless near-death experiences.

She knew clearly that the current battle was hopeless, but she no longer wanted to run. Perhaps dying here would be a fitting end.

Curse this damned world!

Here, peace was merely a boring, unattainable illusion!

She raised her head, and in her left eye, which she could still barely open, she saw the Solar Psionics flickering at the edge of the swamp on the other side.

That blazing light was like the sun in the night, signifying that the Midnight Hunters had run into a tough opponent, one protected by a high-level Psionicist from the Ring Tower!

The mere flickering of this Solar Barrier was enough to cause immense suffering to those evil beings lurking in the darkness.

If they could manage to eliminate nearly 60 elite vampires in one go, it would undoubtedly be an incredible feat.

If the Avalon Church were still around, Natalie and her team would likely be canonized after this battle, becoming revered defenders of the faith.

Unfortunately, the Avalon Church had become the forgotten Old Church in the mouths of the populace.

The organization that had raised her and that she considered her Soul Abode had vanished ten years ago, turning them—warriors who hunted Malevolent Spirits and protected humanity—into stray dogs.

"Bang!"

The violent clash of weapons jolted Natalie out of her dazed stupor, reminding her that she was still in the midst of a brutal fight.

Such a lapse in concentration was unacceptable for an elite.

The fact that she was zoning out indicated that her body, strengthened by Nature Psionic, had reached its limit.

She believed she could still fight, but her body was already starting to break down.

A Blood Servant with a contorted face kicked Natalie hard in her already injured waist, causing her to spit out a mouthful of blood before she crashed onto the dust-strewn ground. The creature advanced with its blade, intending to decapitate her. As she struggled on the ground, through her chaotic vision, she saw veteran Potter driving his Combat Claw into the enemy's neck, while a broken spear protruded from his own abdomen.

"Don't you touch her!"

A hoarse shout came from the other side, prompting Natalie to turn her head with difficulty. She saw the weakened Ambo leaning against a wagon, gripping a hand crossbow with both hands.

This frail, emotional yet determined scout girl must have found a weapon in the vampires' wagon.

She aimed with all her might.

But her right eye, blinded by poison, made it difficult for her to be as accurate as before.

"Thwack!"

An arrow flew out, hitting the Blood Servant who was raising his knife and sending him to the ground. Two other Blood Servants turned their attention to Ambo.

She no longer had time to reload.

Natalie and old Norman, using their last reserves of strength, simultaneously grappled with the two injured Blood Servants, dragging them to the ground and fighting with fists and teeth until Ambo, covered in blood, crawled over and stabbed the final two Blood Servants in the eyes with a dagger.

Four cornered Witch Hunters lay in the wreckage of the burning camp.

They were dying.

Even though they had achieved another hard-won victory, the fire was rapidly approaching, and they no longer had the strength to crawl out of this vortex of death.

Ambo tried to drag Natalie, but as soon as she stood up, she collapsed beside her captain. She could only stare at Natalie with her remaining left eye, her parched, cracked lips moving slightly, trying to convey a message.

She wanted to say "I'm sorry."

But there was no need for apologies.

Dying in a battle like this was the best fate for the now homeless Witch Hunters.

It was better than living to face the hateful and fearful gazes of those they had once protected, being branded as traitors, and then being sent to another battlefield of death by the cold and indifferent Psionicists of the Ring Tower.

Their lives had become expendable in the war, perhaps that was their designated role from the very beginning.

Natalie closed her eyes.

She felt very tired.

All she wanted now was to sleep soundly.

Perhaps meeting death in her dreams would allow her to reunite with her mother in another world. Memories of her loved ones seemed to have been tainted and blurred by the black nightmare of war; this was simply wrong.

The sound of approaching hoofbeats echoed in the night. Amidst the panting of warhorses and their uneasy whinnies, a tall knight from afar leaped to the ground and strode into the deathly silent camp.

The tragic scene before him moved the knight, who wore a hood and carried an Oak Greatsword on his back.

He realized what had happened here, then bent down, carried Natalie and Ambo, who were closest to him, out of the camp, and then turned back to find the veteran soldiers Potter and Norman.

These two fellows were dead.

But they had only just stopped breathing minutes ago, their souls had not yet departed for the Underworld, so there was still hope!

"May Avalon bless you, the mission of the Loyal Warrior is not yet over."

The knight whispered a Divine Name, took a jade-green Seed from his pouch, and placed it into the mouths of the two old soldiers.

As his fingers, emitting jade-green light, sharply tapped their hearts, the Seed of life merged with their hearts and began to beat faintly again in this peculiar state.

Whether they could be saved in this condition was a fifty-fifty chance, yet tonight, fortune truly favored the brave.

Natalie was soon awakened by the commotion around her.

She could feel warm liquid flowing into her mouth. It tasted strange, likely mixed with Herbs, and her incredibly fatigued spirit was instantly relieved. She struggled to open her eyes and saw a familiar face.

Wrinkled, seemingly filled with sorrow, gray hair extended from beneath the hood, and scars remained on the left eye and bridge of the nose. In those aged eyes, a hint of worry surfaced.

"Father Battle... Legion Commander..."

The huntress jolted and clasped the old knight's hand. She coughed and said with difficulty, "We... we failed to complete our mission."

"Rest now, child. You did very well."

The old knight, known as the "Legion Commander," soothed her.

"Your Falcon, Swift Shadow, brought the message back to the Command Post, and it guided me here. You led nearly a sixth of the Blood Vulture Clan's Rangers into a Trap. That's already a remarkable achievement.

I'm here now.

I will deal with the rest."

"Avenge... avenge the soldiers! Please..."

Natalie finally felt at ease.

Her exhausted spirit could no longer hold on. Her head lolled to the side, and she fell asleep.

Then, a small but fierce and intelligent gray Falcon flew down anxiously, landing beside Natalie and hopping around, crying mournfully at the old knight.

"She's alright, Swift Shadow."

The old knight stood up, pulled his hood down to cover his cheeks, and said to the Falcon, "Take care of them. I'm going to handle the remaining trouble."

He let out a whistle, and the tall Red Warhorse charged into the camp. Without slowing down, he grabbed the reins, flipped himself onto the horse, and galloped through the burning camp towards the winding path of the Filthy Swamps.

Flames burned behind him, casting a long shadow of the old knight.

As he drew closer to the vampires' battlefield, the greatsword on his back, with a hilt and decorations made of sacred White Oak, began to hum eerily.

"Mmm, you feel it too, Malevolent Spirits ahead. Good."

The White Oak Legion Commander felt the fervor rising within his weapon. He said in a hoarse voice, "You haven't been this active in a while since the Fall of the Old Church. Are you still remembering the shame the Blood Vultures inflicted upon you back then? Perfect!

I'm also filled with rage right now!

With the Eternal Silence of the vampires and a forest revenge as the Sacrifice, Sacred Blade, please lend me your strength."

The hum of the Oak Greatsword, wrapped in worn Sword Cloth, transformed into a strange howl like the wind of the forest, causing the surrounding Trees to tremble and make way for the charging knight.

Vines receded, branches lifted, and boughs tilted, as if supporting the knight's increasingly close charge towards the battlefield. The piercing sword hum seemed to respond, or perhaps it was a cry of urgency.

Finally, he saw the Midnight Hunters retreating in the darkness before him.

Those disgusting Scarlet Ghosts were retreating under the glaring Night Sunlight. They were protected by the night, thinking they could still escape.

How naive!

"Retreat!"

Miss Femis hurled the Dark Psionics lightning in her hand at the remaining three Gun Soldiers ahead.

Her hunters had suffered rather heavily under the obstruction of those damned Psionicists. Although they had also killed a combination of human soldiers and witch hunters four times their number, upon realizing the Transport Team's wagons had escaped, the young lady knew there was no point in staying to fight any longer.

Taking down that high-level Psionicist from the Ring Tower was not impossible.

But it was pointless!

With every one they killed, the Ring Tower would send out three more. As the main base for psionic users in the human world, no one knew how many psionicists the Ring Tower had ready to deploy.

The learning ability of humans was too terrifying.

The lives of these short-lived races were like pathetic fireworks, yet their growth speed made every vampire, no, every supernatural creature, feel jealous.

Miss Femis had already ordered a retreat.

The Midnight Hunters, having lost over ten Rangers, retreated decisively. They had an absolute speed advantage, and the pursuit force had been wiped out.

If they wanted to leave, no one could stop them.

However, as these vampires turned their backs, they saw the Smuggler's Woods, which had been calm moments before, instantly transform into a "malicious labyrinth."

Vines flew like snakes, surging up into the tree canopy and dragging the flying hunters into the forest. Below, the trees shimmered, reflecting uneasy lines.

They were trapped.

Then, blue-green firelight suddenly erupted, transforming into a descending longsword in the darkness, splitting the unprepared Midnight Hunters in two.

In the wind as the red warhorse carried its rider past, the severed Midnight Hunter screamed as it turned into burning rotten wood, scattering into scarlet embers that flickered and danced before finally dissipating into the howling forest.

This scene caused Miss Femis's blood-colored pupils to constrict instantly.

That was an elite Midnight Hunter, on their way to the Silver Tier, killed in such an easy, single blow? Without even a chance to recover or escape?

Who was this newcomer?

And that strange sword!

What in the world was that thing?

The old knight, riding his horse, seemed to sense the astonishment of the young lady hovering in the air. As he swung his sword again, cutting down and burning another Midnight Hunter, he looked up from the scattering embers.

His aged eyes were no longer filled with worry or weakness. Instead, they held a sharp, chilling, deathly gaze.

"Old Church Saint, Lord of White Oak, White Captain Finoc Lawson pays his respects to the Blood Vulture Clan! The death knell of Eternal Silence has rung! Malevolent Spirit, repent."

He shouted.

With a casual swing of the Oak Sacred Blade, burning with Purifying Fire, a vampire attacking from behind was cut down. Even more brilliant scarlet embers exploded, causing Miss Femis to turn and flee without hesitation or any response.

She had heard of this name, ever since she was very young.

Oak Knight Finoc, one of the three Saints of the Old Church, a Gold Tier!

Damn it!

This human monster, at least 200 years old, shouldn't be here at all!

Mother of Night, have you abandoned us?