The Price

This was destined to be a moonless night. In the pitch-black world, only the pillars of light cast by the airships remained, like isolated islands in a dark ocean, cut off from the world and left only with a desperate struggle against madness.

The battle had already begun; the night was filled with the roar of countless guns mingled with the rising of flames.

The Incinerators began their work. Dozens of flamethrowers converged into a wall of fire. In essence, they were spraying not just flames, but ignited fuel, and precise bullets tore through the fire to pierce the creatures in the darkness.

Beneath the thick lenses, one could only see countless shadows struggling in the sea of fire. Flesh and blood were burned to charcoal, charging out of the fire line with bloodthirsty desire, only to be pierced by bullets and collapse powerlessly.

The soldiers wore gas masks, and heavy breathing echoed from beneath the filter canisters. Everyone instinctively avoided those fallen figures. Black ash rose with the night breeze, landing on their fireproof suits and leaving dark spots.

"Notify the Scavengers. We will need a large-scale purification after tonight."

Looking at the slightly warm ash in his hand, Galahad felt a flicker of emotion, but it quickly faded. He waved his hand to shake it off.

"It is already in progress. Before the operation, the Mechanical Institute poured fifty tons of neutralizing agent into the Pillar of the Furnace. After a day of steam discharge, those agents should be accumulated in the clouds. In a few hours, there will be a small-scale artificial rain here. The rainwater mixed with the agents will purify and neutralize all these residues."

Shrike said this while stepping back a few paces; he did not want to be touched by the residue.

This was the eerie nature of Fiends. Anything related to them, even the ash left after death, brought negative effects. Every time Shrike finished a mission involving Fiends, he would have nightmares for days.

According to the Geiger Counter, this was merely an appetizer; the most intense battle was yet to come. Shell casings clattered and rolled, and the air was thick with ash and dust.

Glancing to the side, Shrike watched the approaching man with interest, seemingly surprised by his appearance.

"You're late, Robin."

As the Iron Snake came to a complete stop, Galahad spoke bluntly while watching the man emerge from the thick steam.

"It has been a long time since we handled anomalies inside Old Dunling. To ensure sufficient firepower, it took a long time to transport that thing onto the train."

Robin explained himself. He looked like a devout believer, with an Iron Cross hanging on his pitch-black cloak. Following his finger, Galahad's gaze turned toward the direction filled with steam.

It was another Iron Snake, completely enveloped in steam, revealing a sharp corner as the night breeze blew past.

"Urgently requisitioned from the armory. I heard it was processed by the Mechanical Institute. It should be perfect for use against those non-human creatures."

As Robin spoke, the object was fully revealed to everyone. It was a Landslide-class Smoothbore Cannon, exquisitely crafted. The pitch-black barrel was painted with floral patterns using paint mixed with gold powder. If not for the crate of shells beside it, it might have belonged in an art gallery.

The people at the Mechanical Institute were always like this—creating dangerous weapons while adding artistic flourishes to them.

"A total of three Landslide-class Smoothbore Cannons and two carriages containing four tons of fuel. Arthur's intent is for us to burn this place to the ground."

As the transporter of this cargo, even Robin was startled when he learned of this.

"As for safety, please rest assured. We communicated with the Mechanical Institute before we set out. They adjusted the output of the Pillar of the Furnace and the power along the route. Now, the streets of Old Dunling are filled with scorching steam, and visibility is less than three meters. No one knows what we transported out."

Galahad nodded, but then he added, "I am not worried about that, but about the elite forces. The Geiger Counter's reading did not stop after breaking the critical threshold; it is still rising steadily. This means the mutation inside the Underground Palace has not ended. Those Fiends are still changing."

This was undoubtedly bad news; the strength of the Fiends was subtly exceeding the plan's projections.

"The Purification Agency and even the Demon Hunter Order choose not to disclose the existence of Fiends to the outside world. One of the main reasons is their contagiousness. Even books recording knowledge about them can drive people mad, let alone letting a living Fiend enter Old Dunling."

Galahad said with concern, "We have undergone training and specialization to barely contend with such monsters. Ordinary people have no ability to resist them; they would directly fall into madness and contamination... or even become the next Fiend. Old Dunling is the hub of the world. Once this 'madness' gets out of control, it will spread across the world through the Midgard Serpent's transportation system. You understand the danger behind this, right?"

This was why such eerie monsters were never known to the world. Rash contact with them meant only death. It was organizations in the dark like the Purification Agency that kept them firmly locked behind city walls, maintaining the sanity of the world.

It was a pity that this battlefield was close to the urban area, or Galahad would not be so constrained. Otherwise, he would have directly used airships to carpet-bomb the area. With the weapon stockpiles from the Glorious War, they could have leveled the entire Lower District.

But this was no longer the dark old era. Back then, people could only use silver swords and fire to fight Fiends. Now, humanity had more efficient weapons, and the balance of advantage had long been broken.

"We thought of this, too, so the armor is waiting for you."

The executors of this plan had already thought of everything, even the armor was prepared. Robin was full of confidence; in his eyes, God was watching over the battlefield.

Following Robin's words, the last steam train arrived slowly. The armor's coating was a matte black that barely reflected light. If not for the low hum of the engine, no one would have noticed its arrival. Endless steam was released as the gates opened, outlining a hideous silhouette beneath the gray-white mist.

But it did not seem to be steam. Galahad could only feel an indescribable coldness in that mist. It should have been cold air; this Iron Snake was a mobile freezer. As the gates opened, green lights flickered inside, accompanied by a blurred, indistinct song—it seemed as if a woman was singing.

A soldier looked at the eerie green light. A woman's face appeared within it, illusory and chaotic, seeming to cry and laugh. She seemed to be saying something, questioning the soldier on various things. He felt a sense of nostalgia, but also deep sorrow, because that face was his fiancée's, yet she had died years ago.

His breathing was heavier than ever, as if lead weights were pressing on his chest. He reached out and took heavy steps forward. As long as he got closer, as long as he got closer, he could snatch his beloved from the hands of death. As long as...

"Beep—"

A long alarm interrupted the soldier's hallucination. Then, starting from the back of his neck, the neural electrodes buried beneath his flesh released a weak current that swept across his brain. Like waking from a dream, he fell to his knees abruptly. Only then did he realize he had strayed from his position, bathing in the green light, and a silver gun barrel appeared before his eyes.

"Soldier, you have been neuro-contaminated."

Shrike stood in front of the soldier, facing the green light.

"Child, you shouldn't be looking at that thing."

Shrike knew what was behind him, but he had never looked there from the start. Everyone present was the same, strictly keeping to their posts.

"I... I..."

The soldier wanted to say something, but the sound turned into a whimpering roar. It seemed to be another language, but he didn't know it. The world distorted and deformed in his eyes, finally turning into a sea of blood.

"You should rest."

That was the last thing he heard. Shrike pulled out a syringe and stabbed it fiercely into his body. As the anesthetic surged into his veins, the alarm finally stopped, and the soldier collapsed heavily.

"Looks like the Neurological Rehabilitation Center is going to have a new guest."

Shrike muttered to himself as he looked down at the gun in his hand; the green light behind him cast its hue across the silver weapon.

"So, those lunatics actually succeeded?" he asked Robin.

Robin also kept his back turned, refusing to face the radiance, and gripped the Iron Cross tightly in his hand as he spoke slowly.

"They succeeded months ago, but they've been calibrating it ever since. They decided tonight's operation was the perfect opportunity to test this weapon."

"They're playing with fire."

Shrike cursed angrily. He loathed that weapon; in his eyes, it was the embodiment of an ill omen.

"But haven't we been playing with fire ever since we began our struggle against the Fiends?"

Galahad said this calmly. Of the three, he was the only one staring directly into the light, seemingly unaffected, his eyes filled with complex emotions.

"The index is still rising. We need to strangle that Fiend within the Underground Palace. Galahad, according to their instructions, only the Knight Commanders are authorized to use this weapon. This is the activation key."

As Robin spoke, he handed over the Iron Cross. Its seemingly smooth surface was actually etched with hundreds of tiny grooves, like the teeth of a key. It was, in fact, a key—one meant to unlock a cursed box.

This was the true secret weapon of the night, and the very reason Robin had come.

"Am I to be their test subject? It's quite extravagant for them to use a Knight Commander for an experiment."

Galahad paused, then let out a self-deprecating laugh. Still, he took the key, its touch as cold as ice, and without a moment's hesitation, strode into the green light.

"So, is this why you suddenly appeared here tonight? According to your orders, you should be on the Dawn Voyager with Lancelot."

Shrike could only hear Galahad's footsteps fading into the distance. He felt a deep sense of unease, as if he were watching a friend walk toward an abyss.

"Yes. This is the first batch of armor—thirteen sets in total. The Dawn Voyager is distributing them to Knight Commanders scattered across the territory of Inverwig while simultaneously hunting Fiends. Arthur believes this is the weapon that can turn the tide of the war, and even the Queen has consented to its use."

Robin spoke with a hint of helplessness, but for the sake of victory, this was the only path forward.

"I understand you, Shrike. You hate that thing, but it is the only way we can stand against the Fiends. Just as Arthur said when we first became knights: fighting Fiends is a process of constant sacrifice."

The eyes beneath his mask held a trace of exhaustion. In the darkness, the Incinerators had ignited a burning sun, casting a blinding light across his field of vision.

"Sacrificing blood, sacrificing pain, sacrificing everything we have to give, until we die with nothing left."

Robin laughed as he said this. He looked at Shrike and traced a cross over his chest.

"I don't think my end will be that miserable. After all, I am a man of faith, and I fight against Fiends. I'm sure I'll go to heaven when I die. As for you, Shrike..."

"I run casinos, I kill, I burn, and I engage in all sorts of smuggling. I've broken nearly every law in Inverwig, but I know I'm a good man. As for heaven, it doesn't really matter to me."

Shrike replied bluntly. He didn't believe in any gods; he found more peace of mind in earning a few extra coins than in daily prayers.

Just then, a hoarse, low moan echoed from the carriage behind them. Shrike's hand trembled slightly, but he did not turn back to help Galahad. Murmured, incoherent whispers brushed against his ears; it seemed that something had awakened within the carriage at that very moment.

The green light finally flickered out, but a twisted black shadow emerged from within. His footsteps rang with the sound of steel, and scorching steam swirled around his frame, obscuring his appearance.

He walked straight past them. As he passed Robin, he heard the man say calmly, "Galahad, once fully activated, you have only ten minutes. Kill that damned Fiend, and come back alive."

The figure paused for a brief moment, and it felt as if a pair of eyes were staring from within the scorching steam, but the sensation vanished as quickly as it had appeared. The figure moved forward again, passing everyone, and headed straight into the depths of the sea of fire. Throughout the process, no one dared to look at that abominable silhouette.

"May you all turn from evil and do good, dwell in peace forever, never be forsaken, and always be protected," Robin prayed.