A quarter of an hour later, before the Archon Bridge.
The Steel Scale Knights' Order had finished forming ranks. With their helmets removed, their uneasy faces were exposed.
Everyone clutched a bottle of the potion called Crimson Pulse.
Inside the glass bottles, the thick red liquid churned like a living thing, giving off an unsettling, sweetly bloody scent.
Rumors about it-the twisted limbs and shattered sanity it caused-had long been circulating privately through the camp.
Viscount Vogel sat astride his Burrowing Dragon and elegantly raised his potion, though his fingertips, too, were trembling slightly.
"Look at me, knights!" Vogel's voice rang out. "Valentin House is watching us! After this battle, there will be no knights, only barons! For glory, for the favor of Valentin House-cheers!"
The knights exchanged glances. Their commander's few words had done nothing to dispel their misgivings.
Seeing that his men still hesitated, Vogel gritted his teeth, tipped his head back, and poured the potion down his throat first.
It burned as it went down, followed immediately by an indescribable sweetness that shot straight to the crown of his head.
All his unease vanished in an instant. Only a thirst from the depths of his soul remained.
"Drink... drink it..." Vogel's eyes instantly turned bloodshot. Still craving more, he licked the residue from the bottle's mouth. "This is... nectar bestowed by the gods!"
Seeing their commander's reaction, the knights hesitated no longer. One mouthful was all it took to turn their resistance into a chorus of gulping.
One second.
Two seconds.
Creak-snap.
Atop their dragon saddles, the knights' necks thickened. Blue-purple veins bulged like tree roots across their foreheads and cheeks, pulsing violently with every heartbeat.
Their swelling muscles warped their refined steel plate armor. Metal plates ground against one another, and the rivets joining them groaned