The next day, the Holy Crusade Army's vast formation surged like a tide of steel before finally halting at the prepared positions two kilometers outside Treasure Island City.
Sunlight pierced the morning mist, gleaming on the polished armor of NPC soldiers and players, the forest of spears and halberds, and the densely arrayed guns and cannons at the front. A murderous tension spread through the air, and the final assault seemed ready to erupt at any moment.
Yet the expected sight of tightly shut gates and a desperate last stand never materialized.
Instead, Treasure Island's enormous gates slowly opened, and a procession emerged.
They carried no battle standards and adopted neither a defensive nor an offensive formation. Leading them was a group of Minisia Royal Guard officers whose uniforms and armor were relatively tidy, but whose faces wore complicated expressions, mingling exhaustion with a certain relief.
There were even people dressed in civil officials' robes among them.
More surprising still was their attitude. They advanced slowly, their bearing almost... respectful?
It was as though they had come not to confront a mortal enemy at their gates, but to welcome allies who had traveled far to uphold justice.
Surrounded by generals and elite guards, Diu Ni Leimu stood before the army's formation, calmly observing this bizarre scene.
His gaze swept swiftly over the approaching procession before settling on the small, thin figure under heavy protection at its center.
It was a boy of about ten to twelve, dressed in black royal formalwear. His face was pale, his eyes red and swollen; he had clearly just been crying. He forced a composed expression onto his young face, but could not hide his overwhelming grief and fear.
He bore a striking resemblance to the portraits Diu Ni Leimu had seen of King Charles