She was like a burning light in the darkness, leading him forward step by step. She's already close. Sensing her approach, he stepped out of the fog again.

He stood in a black forest, the trees dead, the remaining branches shriveled and cracked. The remnants of fallen leaves remember the gentle breeze of the past, not at all like the cold wind that howls in the dead forest now.

He sensed movement in the woods. His heavy boots stomped on the blackened dirt, looking for the source of the movement.

He had an iron shield tied to his left arm, but he couldn't remember wearing it. Then he drew his sword. The belt wrapped around the hilt of the sword had long since decayed, and the broken blade was only a foot long, but its full silhouette could still be seen, glowing softly. Under the ravages and erosion of time, the broken longsword bears witness to its former glory with its afterimage. It was a gift from the king, and at that time, his monarch was still a respectable and lovely person.

Ahead is a steep slope that sinks sharply. He walked along the top edge, past raised gravel and twisted roots. He could see them now—shadowy spirits, ghosts on horses, galloping through the canyon below. They moved quickly, weaving through the woods, towards the sun in the east, which no longer shone on the shore.

Their movements are uniform, like a hunting team...... But in fact, they are the prey.

Letroth ran, keeping up with their speed.

A voice echoed through the woods.

"Here we are, you traitors......"

It's not a single voice, it's dozens or hundreds of cascading reverberations, an army of souls speaking in unison. The loudest of them all was familiar to him.

Letroth quickened his pace and sprinted short. The cavalry below had to bypass the huge stone formations and broken tree trunks. They were forced to slow down, but he was able to sprint straight at the top of the slope. He quickly overtook them and ran ahead of the hunted spirits.

Ledros swerved and stepped over the edge of the cliff. He landed at the bottom of the valley more than thirty feet below and landed in a crouching position, the ground cracking beneath his feet.

He stood in a narrow pass, where the terrain formed a choke point, and the cavalry had to pass.

He drew his sword and waited.

The cavalry galloped forward, a mixture of evil spirits and twisted metal—the unholy ghosts of the once-haughty knights of the Iron Order. For him, they were just fragments of those hateful people in their lifetime.

A black spear was held in the knight's chainmail glove, with serrated teeth and barbs on the tip. Two large horns protrude from his helmet. Seeing Ledroth, he jerked his mount sideways, and the ghost horse stepped forward and howled. The horse's hooves were wrapped in shadows and did not seem to be on the ground at all.

Did Ledros ever kill this man? Or was he a survivor of that massacre and later killed Letroth?

The other riders also appeared, and all of them stopped.

"Get out of the way, swordsman." One of them hissed.

"We have no grievances with you." Another said.

"The feud between us will continue until the end of time." Ledros yelled.

"Then as you wish," roared the other Dead Knight, "run over!" ”

"You shouldn't have stopped," Ledros said, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, "too careless." ”

A knight was lifted from the saddle, and a glowing spear pierced him. As he fell to the ground, his mount turned into smoke. The knight screamed and disappeared with his horse, falling into the black mist again. No wraith will enter that darkness willingly.

"She's coming!" The cavalry at the head shouted, reined and spurred his horse, turning to face a new threat.

The others were confused for a while, not knowing whether they were going to turn around and fight, or if they wanted to flee in panic.

In fact, they have a better chance of winning by rushing through him. At least a few escaped. But in the face of her, everyone will return to the fog.

Another knight dropped from his saddle, and a spear shot out of the fog struck him in the chest.

Then she appeared, and jumped out of the shadows like a lioness on a hunt, her eyes burning with the fire of the hunt.

Callista.

Lydroth's gaze immediately drew to the ethereal spear tip protruding from her back, and he felt a sharp pain erupt from his deepest part, as sharp as the blades that had ended his life.

Callista stepped forward gently, ghost spear in one hand. A knight charged at her, a spear with a hooked blade eyebrow-raising. But she dodged with a light jump. She landed on one knee and threw her spear, piercing the knight who passed closely. As soon as she threw her spear, her footsteps began to move towards the next enemy.

She flexed her fingers, and a new spear emerged in her hand.

A blade slashed at her, but Callista skilfully unslashed the blade of her spear and dodged the iron hooves of her mount. She leaped from the charred boulder, twisted in the air, and plunged her spear into the horseman's chest, sending him into the darkness. She landed in perfect balance, her eyes locked on her next prey.

Lydros had never seen a woman as strong as Callista when he was alive. After her death, she was even more unstoppable.

While the other cavalry concentrated on her, the two knights charged at Ledroth, realizing that they wanted to escape Callista's sophisticated slaughter. At the last moment of the attack, Ledras lunged to the side and struck the mount of the first cavalryman with his heavy shield, knocking the ghost horse to the ground and the rider flying out of his saddle.

The second knight's spear stabbed Ledroth in the side, piercing his armor, the barrel of the spear snapping in two in the middle. Even so, Ledros stood on his feet and spun around to strike through his mount's neck. If it is a flesh-and-blood warhorse, this blow is enough to cut off the horse's head. But now it was blown into nothingness with a shrill roar. The rider fell to the ground.

Ledros smashed the cavalryman back with his shield as he stood up, sending him to the tip of Callista's spear. This is her hunt, her prey.

Ledroth put away her sword and watched as she slaughtered the last of the demons.

Tall, slender Callista is always on the move. Her opponents had been legendary armed Templars, so she was at ease with each spear thrust and sword swing, disposing of each opponent in turn.

Then the hunt was over, and only Callista and Ledros were left.

"Callista?" He said.

Her gaze fell on him, but there was only strangeness in her eyes when she looked at him. She was expressionless, just like when she was alive. She was cold and didn't blink a pair of eyes.

"We are the spears of vengeance," she replied with more than just her own voice.

"You are Callista, the spear of the Shining Silver Throne." Ledros said.

Before she could speak, he knew what she was going to say next. It's the same every time.