"Clip-clop, clip-clop!"
Under the deep night sky, two swift horses raced along the road. The two figures seated on their backs kept glancing behind them, their faces still pale with lingering terror.
They were Count Zeke and his deputy, Alitt, who had fled from the ambush they had just encountered.
Whenever Zeke recalled how that mysterious killer had crushed and slaughtered the six knights under his command in an instant, how his trusted retainers had been hacked into countless pieces of flesh by that terrifying power without even managing to let out a single cry before dying,—
he could not help feeling a chill in his heart. At the same time, he desperately raised his whip and lashed the warhorse beneath him, trying to make it accelerate and put as much distance as possible between them and that terrifying battlefield.
Only after galloping at full speed for half an hour, when the warhorses beneath them had reached their limits from the prolonged sprint and were on the verge of collapsing while foaming at the mouth, did Zeke reluctantly stop whipping his horse. He let its speed drop, then wiped the cold sweat from his forehead, still shaken to the core.
"Count, are we heading back to the manor?"
Seeing Zeke slow down, Alitt, who was equally shaken, hurriedly asked for his opinion.
However, upon hearing this, Zeke's old face turned green. He wanted nothing more than to smack Alitt across the face with his whip and demand that he listen to the nonsense he was spouting.
After all, even the fact that Zeke was going to the temple to hold a secret salon with several other colleagues had been learned in advance by the killer, who had then launched an assassination attempt along a crucial stretch of his route.
So