The Fallen White Knight

The newcomer seemed to have leapt into the Ethereal Plane out of thin air, stirring the gray mist into ceaseless turmoil, yet the figures of rider and mount remained faintly visible.

White armor, a white helm, and a white horse—steady and silent. Only the greatsword on her back was black enough to swallow all light, like a void shaped into a sword.

The Knight had a slender figure. She was likely a woman.

The white horse was tall and magnificent, but it had a flaming mane, burning hooves, and smoldering eyes. It was clearly a white Nightmare.

"Lord Darkhope, that is Anser."

Emmanuel pointed at the Simulacrum and silently drifted several meters backward, his eyes carrying both relief and an unhidden sense of loss.

"Darkhope?" The Simulacrum possessed most of Anser's memories, but he had never heard that name.

Anser watched the scene through the Simulacrum but could not recall any notable figure associated with "Darkhope."

Darkhope was probably a surname, and not an uncommon one.

But since she knew of his brilliant record and still dared to seek him out, she could not be weak.

"Anser Horleywen?" The White Knight urged her horse forward and stopped less than twenty meters from Anser.

She initiated Telepathy, but her transmission was calm and utterly flat, without the slightest trace of emotion.

"The genuine article. Who are you?" the Simulacrum asked in confusion.

"It truly wasn't easy finding you." The White Knight studied the Simulacrum carefully, a flicker of red light igniting in the eye slits of her helmet.

"What do you want with me?" Following Anser's instructions, the Simulacrum did not rush into battle.

The White Knight gave a soft laugh, though there was not a shred of warmth in it. "It seems you still don't know. Many people are looking