The combined power of my firepower and the knights’ aura-infused blades heated the cold, ashen ground.

We balanced the scales of overwhelming odds with magic a century ahead of its time and swords that no one would master even a hundred years from now.

BOOOOM!
CRACK!
ROAR!
SCREEECH!

“Those damn monsters!”

“Weren’t they supposed to be completely exhausted after two months, both physically and in terms of equipment?!”

Desperate, horrified cries replaced the enemy’s earlier confidence.

The number of rampaging monsters dwindled rapidly.

In proportion, the Imperial agents—estimated at 20—and the Abyss warlocks—around 10—were now reduced to less than half their numbers.

The tide of battle had turned in our favor.

“Huff… Huff… Whew!”

Still, even Arina and the knights weren’t invincible, and the strain on their stamina was beginning to show.

“Arad Jin, a word.”

It was then that Doyle, the Frostblade Ghost knight whose name may or may not have been real, called out to me.

“How many arrows do you have left? The ones that cast magic with each shot.”

“Five left.”

I answered without suspicion, then immediately fired one at a medium-sized monster charging toward us.

CRASH!

This time, the arrow was infused with ice, wind, and water mana stones.

ROAR!

The creature—a hydra—froze mid-motion from its waist to the middle of its necks.

Its tough hide, muscles, and bones prevented it from being completely frozen, but the spell was enough to temporarily incapacitate it.

“Piece of cake! Haaah!”

Swoosh!

Taking advantage of the opening, another of Renslet’s senior knights, Sir Karrot, swung his sword and severed the slowed hydra’s necks.

“Four left now.”

Reloading the next arrow, I informed Doyle of my remaining count.

“I see. We must act quickly.”

Doyle nodded and suddenly headed toward Arina.

“...?”

I watched him briefly as he abandoned his position protecting me and headed for the Grand Duchess.

‘Perhaps he’s moving to provide support now that things are calming down here?’

Setting aside my curiosity, I refocused on the battle.

One by one, I fired off my remaining magical arrows, each shot precisely aimed.

By the time the last arrow was spent, the undead monsters and warlocks had been entirely wiped out, and the remaining Sigma knights and mages had been reduced to a mere handful.

The enemy force was now down to seven—six knights and their leader, a high-ranking mage.

These seven were surrounded by the knights of High Castle.

“Irina! Dominic! I’m out of arrows!”

I announced to the Grand Duchess and Balzac that I could no longer provide ranged support.

“Understood!”

“You’ve done a tremendous job! Truly!”

Arina and Balzac acknowledged me with small smiles and nods.

Perhaps my efforts during the battle had conveyed my sincerity. The suspicion and wariness on their faces had significantly diminished.

‘But why do those bastards look so calm?’

Despite our overwhelming advantage, I couldn’t shake an unsettling feeling.

The final seven Sigma agents, though clearly outmatched and facing certain defeat, remained eerily composed.

“...”

They stared silently at the Grand Duchess with unreadable expressions.

And then, without warning—

STAB!

An unthinkable betrayal unfolded before my eyes.

Doyle, who had been standing quietly back-to-back with Arina while defending her, suddenly turned and plunged his sword into her abdomen.

“!!”

“!!”

Everyone froze.

The Grand Duchess. Balzac. The knights. Even I, watching from the carriage.

The shock of the situation left us speechless.

Had Arina been in peak condition, she might have blocked Doyle’s ambush.

But after exhausting her strength and focus within the barrier for two months, and despite my best efforts with food and equipment repairs, she wasn’t at full capacity.

And most of all, her unwavering trust in Doyle—trust she didn’t want to question—allowed this fatal betrayal to happen.

“Urgh…!”

Coughing up blood, Arina collapsed to the ground.

“Nooooo!”

Balzac was the first to scream, his voice filled with anguish.

“Why…?”

Seated on the ground, Arina stared at her once-loyal knight with disbelief.

“You traitor!!”

Balzac hurled his hand axe at Doyle with all his remaining strength.

Despite his exhaustion, the throw was so swift that few knights could hope to dodge it.

CLANG!

But Doyle, now revealed as a traitor, deflected the axe with his sword, which he had just pulled from Arina’s body.

Tap, tap, tap.

As if his earlier fatigue had been a mere act, Doyle swiftly leapt back toward the Imperial side.

“A traitor!”

“A Frostblade Ghost knight betraying us!”

The other senior knights—Sir Eothe, Sir Karrot, and Sir Logi—glared at Doyle with hatred.

“Ptui.”

But Doyle showed no remorse. He spat on the ground and sneered at us.

“You Northerners… so damn persistent.”

Doyle’s face was a mix of irritation, smugness, and exhaustion.

“When I first entered the barrier, I thought it would all be over quickly.”

He pulled out a black orb the size of an eyeball from his pocket—a tool that seemed ill-suited for a knight.

“But you just wouldn’t die. Even after two months, with no proper food or rest, you kept holding on.”

It seemed his machinations had been in play from the moment they entered the barrier.

He had led them astray, poisoned their mounts, and manipulated them with the black orb in his hand.

“And just when I thought the end was in sight…”

Doyle’s gaze shifted to me and the golden carriage.

“Supplies. In the Abyss. Inside the barrier, no less. A carriage filled to the brim with supplies! You’ve got to be kidding me!”

His eyes were filled with incredulity, as if my presence was an affront to reason.

“And those absurd magical arrows… To think our esteemed Grand Duchess was secretly building a secret weapon. Not that it matters now.”

Doyle’s disdainful glare finally landed on the Grand Duchess, now lying in a pool of her own blood.

His lips curled into a mocking smile.

“Pour all the potions you want. It won’t make a difference.”

Beside Arina, an elderly knight knelt, desperately tending to his lord.

“Please… Please…!”

Balzac had poured every potion he had onto Arina’s gaping abdominal wound, preparing for what seemed to be her final moments.

The tide of the battle had shifted once again.

What had been an overwhelming advantage for Renslet had now either balanced or turned against them.

A grim and oppressive atmosphere loomed over Renslet’s side, while on the enemy side, euphoria and confidence radiated like stars.

On the gray battlefield of the Abyss, two starkly contrasting emotions clashed.

“What happened to the other Frostblade Ghosts who went scouting with you? Was their disappearance part of your betrayal too?”

In place of Balzac, who was too focused on treating Arina, another senior knight, Eothe, directed this question at Doyle.

It seemed only Arina and Balzac had used aliases until now.

“The ones in my unit? Hmm… I wonder where they might be, Sir Eothe,” Doyle replied with a mocking tone.

“I’d rather you didn’t speak my name with that disgusting mouth,” Eothe snapped.

“Whoa, relax! Fine, I’ll respect that. As for them? They’re all in the bellies of monsters. By now, they’ve become bones and flesh wandering the Abyss.”

“…At least your betrayal was a solo act.”

“Yes, indeed. Which means I’ll be keeping all the rewards to myself.”

“What made you betray us? Did Her Highness ever mistreat you?”

“The North! I hate this damn North! It’s filthy, cold, always hungry, and there’s not a single thing to be satisfied with in this cursed, wretched land!”

“If you hated the North so much, you could’ve just left! Why go this far?!”

“And what, let you all quietly allow me to leave when I was part of the Frostblade Ghosts? Really? With my knight’s oath? You’d at least destroy my energy core or take an arm.”

“…”

“But the Empire is different! They promised me unimaginable rewards for cooperating in this mission—a warm, fertile land to call my own and a barony I could pass on!”

‘Whether Earth or the North, people are the same when it comes to money,’ I thought, listening to Doyle and Eothe’s exchange.

‘But… I don’t recall Doyle existing in Silver Age 1.’

Even a traitor who had killed the Grand Duchess and sold out the North should have left some historical record. Yet I couldn’t recall a single mention of someone named Doyle.

Even if he had taken on a new identity, his actions should have echoed in history.

‘The Empire’s promises were probably lies.’

I clicked my tongue internally and slipped into the golden carriage.

There, I gathered what I needed.

When I was ready, I emerged and approached the fallen Grand Duchess and the kneeling Balzac, who was still tending to her.

“Damn it…! The potions…!”

Balzac, his white hair and beard disheveled, was frantically tending to Arina.

Despite using all his potions, her wounds remained far from healed. They had only managed to extend her life by a few hours.

“Ugh… cough…”

Her pale face and the blood spilling from her lips told a grim tale—her condition was dire.

“May I take a look?” I asked cautiously, addressing both the Grand Duchess and the elderly knight.

“...!”

Balzac froze at my words, then slowly lifted his head to look at me.

“I’ve picked up some healing techniques in my time,” I added.

Balzac glanced back and forth between me and the golden carriage behind me.

“Please! Save Her Highness! I beg you!”

Thud!

The proud knight dropped his head to the ground, his voice thick with tears.

‘He doesn’t even care about keeping their identities secret anymore. Not that it matters—Doyle’s already shouted out who the Grand Duchess is.’

Until now, I had officially been unaware of the true identities of the Grand Duchess and her knights. But that pretense was no longer necessary.

“So, you are indeed Her Highness the Grand Duchess. And Sir Dominic… Is Frostblade Ghost Balzac your true identity?”

“Yes… I’m sorry for deceiving you until now.”

“It’s fine. Please step aside so I can examine her.”

“O-of course!”

With his permission granted, I knelt to examine Arina.

‘This is bad.’

It was obvious at a glance that her condition was critical.

The only reason she was still alive was the sheer amount of potions poured onto her wound. Without them, she would have died long ago.

‘With the medicines and tools I have, there’s no way to save her.’

My diagnosis was grim.

To make matters worse, we were deep in the Abyss, a place where resources were severely limited.

“Can she be saved?” Balzac’s cautious voice broke the silence.

“Hmm…”

I let out a thoughtful hum before finally answering.

“It’s possible.”

“What?! How?!”

Balzac’s eyes widened in shock at my response.

“C-can she… be saved?”

Even Arina, barely conscious, managed to ask in a faint, trembling voice.

“Yes. Not only can I save her life, but she’ll even be able to wield her sword again.”

“...!”

Tears welled up in Arina’s eyes at my words.

She must have prepared herself for the worst, believing that even if her life was spared, her shattered energy core would prevent her from ever holding a sword again.

“But,” I added, “I’ll need you to retrieve some things for me.”

“Just say the word! I’ll lay down my life to get them!”

Balzac’s eyes burned with determination, as if he were a zealot ready to fulfill a divine mission.

From Arad’s Salt to the golden carriage and the mana-stone arrows, it seemed everything I’d done so far had left no room for doubt about my abilities.

“If the Sigma mage is here, they’ll have high-grade potions used by the Imperial Royal Knights.”

I glanced toward the enemy forces still clashing with our knights.

“And those Abyss warlocks, given their line of work, are bound to have rare and even unethical medicinal ingredients on them.”

“Understood.”

Balzac immediately grasped the implication.

“Bring me everything they have. All of it.”

Whoosh!

Before I even finished speaking, the old knight had vanished from sight.

CRACK!

Whoosh!

A frost-laden wind swept across the ashen field, signaling the resurgence of the Frostblade Ghost.