The Night No God Answered

On the first night of Daisy and Viola’s journey, somewhere upon the wilderness plains beneath the curtain of night, they encountered a dying old shepherd and heard from him one final plea filled with regret and hidden implications.

“S-Save… save the lord…”

“In the town… south…”

The old shepherd’s back continued bleeding from the deep slash wound across it.

He no longer even had the strength to raise his head.

Lying face-down upon the sandy ground, he used the last remnants of his life to mutter desperate pleas.

And even now, he was not begging for his own life to be saved.

“Mister! Mister whose name I don’t know! Hang in there!”

Watching the heavily wounded old shepherd on the verge of death, Daisy had no idea how to save him.

All she could do was turn toward Viola beside her with pleading eyes.

“Viola, can you heal him? He looks like he’s about to die!”

“…”

For one of the rare times, an expression of difficulty appeared upon Viola’s cold and beautiful face.

After a pause, she finally spoke softly.

“I cannot save this human.”

“Healing magic is the one thing I cannot use.”

“It fundamentally conflicts with the nature of dragon magic itself.”

“We cannot learn it…”

“The only thing I can do… is ensure that those I wish to protect are never harmed in the first place.”

The immense magical power within dragons, surpassing even gods, demons, and other races, was destructive by nature.

Though it could be used to create defensive barriers that isolated outside forces, healing magic was absolutely impossible for dragons to wield.

If forcibly attempted, it would only become deadly magic that killed every patient it tried to heal.

“How could that…”

“Then this person is really…”

Daisy was shocked to learn even Viola could not heal him.

When she turned back again, the old shepherd lying on the ground already resembled a candle flickering weakly in the wind.

Before Daisy even had time to feel sorrow, Viola’s gaze suddenly sharpened once more.

She turned her head toward the distant darkness far south across the wilderness, silver-gray eyes filled with cold displeasure.

“Come to think of it… I’ve been hearing approaching hoofbeats from that direction for a while now…”

**

At the same time, beneath the dim moonlight obscured by clouds upon the dark wilderness, three armored cavalrymen rode feathered horses whose bodies bore patches of plumage.

Holding torches aloft, they thundered across the plains amid flying dust and pounding hooves while chasing the intermittent trail of blood upon the ground.

It seemed they would not stop until they found the old shepherd’s corpse.

“Hah! Didn’t expect that old bastard to make it this far!”

“I thought that slash would kill him for sure…”

“That old fool had a death wish anyway.”

“We only came here to take the local lord’s life.”

“Why the hell was some random peasant trying so desperately to warn him?”

“Normally, don’t oppressed commoners just pray for their lord to die already?”

“You two shut up!”

“This is a secret mission entrusted to us personally by the master!”

“Don’t forget that officially, we’re merely friendly soldiers here to capture thieves who may have infiltrated the lord’s manor…”

“The lord here has to end up looking like he was killed by bandits, understand?!”

Across the wilderness, the three torch-bearing riders shouted back and forth while chasing the blood trail.

None of them worried in the slightest that a dying old man could possibly cause trouble.

However—

Suddenly, a violent gust of wind howled through the darkness ahead.

In an instant, all three torches were extinguished.

Even the feathered horses beneath them cried out in alarm.

Two of the riders reflexively raised their arms to shield their faces.

When the strange gale vanished as quickly as it came, they lowered their arms—

Only to discover their armor splattered with fresh crimson blood.

Then they looked toward their third companion riding beside them.

What they saw was a headless corpse still mounted upon a galloping horse, blood spraying violently from the severed neck.

“WAAAAAAAHHHHHH?! W-What the hell is that?!?!”

“What happened?! How did his… head… AAAAAAHHHH!!”

This time, the two riders saw it clearly.

A black shadow moving too fast to perceive swept past once again amid raging wind.

After it flashed by, another rider’s head vanished instantly.

Even the remaining rider’s horse had its entire head casually removed in passing.

The final surviving rider stared in utter horror and disbelief.

In the brief moment before being thrown from his collapsing mount, he looked downward only to see blood erupting smoothly from the terrifying severed neck of the still-running headless horse.

Then both rider and mount crashed violently to the ground, inertia flinging him forward.

He nearly got crushed beneath his own horse.

As he struggled frantically to crawl upright like someone trapped in a nightmare, he suddenly realized a dark figure had silently appeared before him.

“Human.”

The surviving rider trembled violently upon the ground, face pale with terror.

Before him stood Viola beneath the cold glow of moonlight and stars, one hand holding two dripping human heads while the other carried an enormous horse head.

Her eyes brimmed with killing intent as she looked down at him.

“About the conversation you people were having just now…”

“Could you explain it in detail?”

Viola had not rushed over to slaughter them out of some sense of justice.

Rather, she simply found the entire situation deeply irritating.

Whether the old shepherd or the riders were right or wrong did not matter to her at all.

In her eyes, they were all responsible for forcing her to reveal her helplessness in front of little Daisy.

Naturally, she had shown no mercy.

Several kilometers south of where Daisy and Viola currently stood lay an agricultural town.

Its homes were orderly and intact, the straw-roofed houses not overly shabby, and the residents did not appear to live in severe hardship.

Within the Kingdom of Mirandel—a land plagued by class oppression, crushing taxes, serfdom, and widespread rural suffering—such peaceful countryside scenery was actually rather rare.

Tonight, however, this seemingly peaceful farming town welcomed an unusual night.

“All residents of this territory, listen carefully!”

“We are not suspicious individuals!”

“We are the official army of the Kingdom of Mirandel!”

“We serve under the noble ally of your lord, Baron Borus!”

Amid the dim and quiet night illuminated by household lights, waves of marching boots, clattering armor, and galloping horses suddenly echoed from outside the town.

A massive army numbering nearly a thousand soldiers marched forcefully through the town entrance.

Though they carried no banners identifying themselves, every one of them wore armor and carried swords, spears, axes, or shields.

The countless torches held throughout the formation connected into a sea of flames within the darkness, resembling a giant fiery serpent bringing calamity.

At the front of the formation, a mounted cavalry leader raised his voice theatrically.

Though he seemed to be trying to reassure the townspeople, his words only frightened them further.

“There is no need to fear!”

“We are merely pursuing a group of thieves who escaped in this direction!”

“Our master was concerned for his friend—your lord, Baron Borus—and specifically ordered us to inspect his manor personally!”

“We ask for everyone’s understanding and cooperation!”

“Do not leave your homes or peer outside!”

“These thieves are ruthless killers!”

Although this region was considered safe wilderness where demons had never been sighted, the town still maintained wooden barricades at its entrance and possessed a small militia established in the baron lord’s name to guard against wild beasts and bandits.

But before this massive fully armed force of over a thousand soldiers—including infantry and cavalry alike—not to mention ordinary civilians trembling inside their homes while clutching their families, even the dozen or so able-bodied young men of the town militia did not dare recklessly throw their lives away.

“Damn it! Hundreds—no, thousands of noble troops…”

“Even if a few of us go out there…”

“Wait, maybe they aren’t necessarily here to do anything bad?”

“Didn’t they say they were—”

“Are you stupid?!”

“Look at how suspicious they are!”

“They won’t even reveal their banners or identities!”

“They’re obviously up to no good!”

“They claim to be soldiers serving Lord Borus’s noble friends?”

“I bet they were sent by Viscount Clyde—the one who keeps causing trouble because Lord Borus refuses to cooperate with him!”

“Ah! I heard Viscount Clyde got dragged into that s*ave market scandal exposed in Gran City recently.”

“He’s supposedly furious right now.”

“Don’t tell me he’s taking out his anger on innocent people…”

“Gods above… it can’t be that unjust, can it?”

“If they really start causing trouble without reason, will something happen to Lord Borus and his family?”

“Our village only grew into this town because of Lord Borus’s generous tax reductions and welfare policies!”

“Gods, please protect him…”

Inside the farming town’s militia station, beneath the dim glow of oil lamps, over a dozen unevenly equipped guards exchanged anxious words while desperately discussing the situation.

Yet no one could think of any useful solution.

All they could do was listen helplessly as distant hoofbeats and clanging armor echoed deeper into the town toward the residence of their rare kindhearted lord.

BANG!

Suddenly, the militia station door burst open violently from outside.

“Who’s there?!”

The dozen unprofessional guards inside shouted in panic while grabbing their mismatched weapons.

But the person rushing inside turned out to be one of their own younger companions.

The moment he entered, he shouted frantically:

“This is bad!”

“Old John the shepherd still hasn’t come back!”

“And the direction he was herding sheep in happened to be the same direction those soldiers came from!”

“Could something have happened to him?!”

“Lord Borus once helped Old John when he fell into hardship…”

“What if he really did try to warn the lord?!”

“Should we go out there and fight those bastards?!”

“Lord Borus has helped all of us before too!”

“We can’t just ignore him while he’s in danger!”

“But with our numbers, going against hundreds or thousands of invaders would just be suicide!”

“We all have families too…”

“Damn it! Why did this happen…”

“What do we do now?!”

Inside the dimly lit militia station of this agricultural town, the poorly trained guards shouted anxiously over one another.

Yet deep down, every one of them understood the truth.

There was nothing they could do.

All they could choose was self-preservation.

At this point, the only thing left was to pray to the gods.

However—

The gods would not descend merely because someone prayed for salvation.