The Last Stand of the Knights of the Old Era

In Old Valley of the Ashen Fief, the searing flames had not yet gone out.

At the bottom of the Holy-Silver Bone-Eater Trench, corrosive mud bubbled with yellow-green acid.

Severed limbs from several mangled armored werewolves jutted out of the acid mud, their sharp claws still twitching from reflex.

On the frozen ground below the cliff, Gruen knelt at the edge of the blast trench. Two Third-Generation Rune Heavy Bolts were lodged in his chest, the runes on their heads still flickering.

Edwin's face tightened as he gave his first order. "Keep the Dark Bunker loaded. No firing port is to stand down."

Under Blackpine Fief's battle doctrine, victory did not mean skipping the procedure for confirming a kill.

Two teams of heavy-shield warriors and purification soldiers cautiously surrounded Gruen's body and began the confirmation.

A purification soldier drove a long spike soaked in Holy Water into Gruen's throat, heart, and the back of his neck. The others watched the wounds for any sign of Blood Moon regeneration.

A young Ashen Fief recruit standing close by suddenly went rigid.

He saw a faint movement in Gruen's blasted-open chest and nearly dropped his short spear. The Supervisory Soldier beside him gripped his shoulder and spoke quietly.

"Quiet. That isn't breathing. The rupture rune left by the second Third-Generation Rune Heavy Bolt is still pulsing inside his chest."

"Record this: two consecutive hits from Third-Generation Rune Heavy Bolts. Target's Heart Core destroyed. Blood Moon regeneration terminated." The recorder lowered his head and wrote it down.

The battle for Old Valley was drawing to a close.

Edwin slowly lowered his gaze to the Whiteflame lance in his hand.

Its tip reflected the Blood Moon's red light. It was spotless, without a drop of wolf blood on it.

A hundred paces away, the Werewolf