"…A curse,"

No ordinary strike could have left such a lingering taint. That weapon the foggy figure used was cursed.

Realizing, Reynold's lips curved faintly. "Prepare for battle."

The nearby commander blinked, startled.

"Use the Fiend-Slaying Formation," Reynold said.

For a single heartbeat, silence hung heavy over the ranks. Then understanding flickered in the commander's eyes. The enemy was still in the hall, hiding among them.

Without another word, the commander spun on his heel, his voice steady as he barked quiet orders and hand signals

Reynold stood still, his gaze locked on the far end of the hall. He adjusted his grip on his sword, the faint hum of its edge cutting through the silence.

"Let's see," he murmured, his eyes glinting coldly, "who is the traitor?"

In the hall, the last threads of fog had vanished completely.

But instead of relief, the chamber was thick with unease.

The three forces, Jul, Durn, Yan, stood scattered across the broken expanse of stone. The floor was marred with cracks and blood, the aftermath of battle painted in shades of steel and crimson.

At the center of it all, the surviving commanders gathered, their faces pale.

Among them stood Ling Yan. She surveyed the aftermath without a word. Her soldiers, what remained of them, stood weary but disciplined.

Her gaze drifted to one of her commanders, the man who had led the front lines without her permission.

When she finally spoke, her tone was quiet, but the frost in her voice made the commander stiffen. "Who ordered you to advance before the other forces had assembled?"

The man hesitated, his throat dry. He bowed his head quickly. "Princess, we thought,"

"You thought wrong," Ling Yan interrupted softly, her eyes cold as moonlight. "Your carelessness cost us our soldiers."

"Look at them," she said, pointing at the fallen soldiers. "You would be among the fallen, if not for lady Lina timely rescue."

The commander bowed deeper, his forehead damp with sweat despite the chill that filled the chamber. Around them, her soldiers said nothing.

Ling Yan turned away, her cloak swaying softly as she looked across the battlefield once more.

Her instincts told her, the battle wasn't over. Something in this place still felt off.

Ling Yan's cold gaze swept across the chamber as she faced the other commander of her army.

"I'll ask again," she said evenly, though the chill in her tone made several men avert their eyes. "Why did any of you move before the rest were assembled?"

For a heartbeat, silence filled the broken hall. Then, one of Yan's officers finally spoke, his voice edged with frustration.

"It wasn't us. Durn's men moved first. Their prince wanted to seize the center before anyone else could."

The accusation hung in the air like poison smoke.

A commander from Durn stepped forward, his armor scratched and spattered with dried blood. His jaw was tight, voice clipped. "Don't twist the truth to hide your blunder. Whether we stepped first or not, this ruin was a trap from the start. Order didn't matter."

The Yan officer sneered. "A convenient excuse from the ones who triggered it."

"Watch your tongue," the Durn man snapped, his hand brushing the hilt of his blade. "We lost men too. Or are you saying we cut them down ourselves?"

"Didn't you?" someone muttered from Yan's ranks, low but sharp enough to pierce through the tense air.

The temperature seemed to drop. Steel rasped faintly as several soldiers gripped their weapons, eyes blazing with suspicion.

"We've marched through blood and mist," one of Durn's senior commanders said, stepping into the light. "Lost brothers, comrades… and yet, we've found nothing. Not a single artifact. Don't tell me the Jul dogs already picked this tomb clean while the rest of us fought illusions."

A wave of uneasy murmurs swept the chamber. The eyes of both factions turned toward Jul's camp, sharp and distrustful.

The Durn commander's lips curled into a thin smile as his gaze slid toward the people of Emperor Academy.

"Or perhaps…" he drawled, but didn't say further.

He didn't' need to, as other understood his underlying meaning. He was silently accusing Emperor Academy's people, who had entered first, took everything.

A few soldiers exchanged wary looks.

"Hold on," a voice rose from the Jul side. "Don't start throwing blame. It could've been the adventurers who came before us."

Another man barked out bitter laughter. "Impossible. Those half-trained scavengers could never make it this far alive."

The tension thickened again, pressing down like a storm about to break.

Lina stood near the back, her complexion pale from the toll of unraveling the earlier formation. She saw, not far, Reynold approaching.

Just as she was about to call him, a frightened voice echoed the hall.

"My lord, you're bleeding!"

The sudden cry sliced through the growing argument.

All heads turned toward the voice.

The voice came from a Durn soldier who was standing beside prince Vearos.

The prince looked down, eyes frowning. A thin red line traced across his left arm, and blood dripped slowly onto the cold stone floor.

The Durn commanders rushed to his side, alarm flickering in their eyes. The wound was shallow, but that didn't matter. For someone of his level, protected by layers of spiritual armor and charms, such a cut should have been impossible.

Just then, the air around them shifted.

A faint ripple shimmered in the space behind the prince Vearos.

Before anyone could comprehend it, a blur of movement tore through the stillness, a flash of cold steel, fast as lightning. A sword appeared, gleaming an inch from the prince's throat.

Clang!

The sound exploded through the chamber, ringing like thunder in a sealed hall. Sparks burst between two blades as they collided.

Prince Vearos had moved at the last possible instant, his curved dagger intercepting the strike. The clash drove him half a step back, boots screeching across the stone floor.

Gasps erupted through the ranks. Soldiers froze, their weapons half-raised, unsure what they had just witnessed.

Then came Reynold's voice, "Found you."