Blades, fire, werewolves, corpses…

Jumbled shards of memory raced through Ahei's mind, splitting his skull with pain.

"Aah!"

Ahei threw back his head and roared, arms outstretched.

In that moment, all the shards clicked into place.

He opened his eyes, and the floodgates of memory burst open—he had regained everything.

I am the Brown Cloak Knight!

The knight, who had clawed his way out of the abyss of amnesia, saw his murky eyes clear. But the scene before him shook him to his core.

Werewolves were massacring the Frostwall defenders. The Narrow Square was littered with corpses, a sickening mix of blood and feces hanging in the air.

Damned werewolves!

A searing rage burned in the knight's chest. He remembered clearly that it was werewolves who had condemned him to his miserable fate.

When he saw a gray wolf on horseback charge toward an archer, he sprang up from behind the broken wall, grabbed a longsword from a fallen swordsman's body, and leaped toward the wolf rider. Despite his bloated frame, his movement was surprisingly agile.

Clang! Sparks flew.

The knight descended like a divine warrior, blocking the fatal strike aimed at the archer. He parried the wolf blade, then flicked his wrist—his sword struck like a viper's tongue, piercing the gray wolf's chest.

The gray wolf howled in agony, crashing off its horse. Blood gushed out, staining the square's stone bricks red. The horse, riderless, careened into a stone wall, kicking up a cloud of dust.

The Brown Cloak Knight never admits defeat!

After years of silence, he had struck again. Though his swordplay felt rusty, he had killed a werewolf with his first move—a feat that filled him with quiet satisfaction.

The fat man's sudden intervention was like a thunderclap in the night, instantly drawing the attention of humans and wolves alike.

"Ahei?"

"He can use a sword!"

"Is that really Ahei? Am I seeing things?"

Many Frostwall defenders gasped in shock. They could not fathom why the "fat idiot" who usually fetched water and served meals, who only ever "heh-heh" laughed, had suddenly become so formidable.

But there was no time for questions in the heat of battle.

Beneath the Blood Moon, the tower and square were draped in a thin veil of crimson. The werewolves continued their relentless assault.

Two werewolves wielded their blades, pouncing on the knight from left and right.

Facing the dual attack, the knight—out of practice for so long—was initially tense, his swordplay showing a hint of hesitation. But after weathering the werewolves' initial onslaught, his movements grew smoother. After a dozen more rounds, his strikes turned sharp and fierce, each swing carrying the faint roar of wind and thunder.

"Werewolf! Your time has come!"

The knight shouted. A flash of steel, and one werewolf's head rolled to the ground, blood spraying everywhere.

"You won't escape either!"

Another flash of cold light, and the other werewolf's sword arm was sliced clean off. It fell to its knees, howling in agony.

Evil has no place on this land!

The Brown Cloak Knight stood tall in the square, his longsword trembling slightly at the tip. He exuded the awe-inspiring aura of the "Royal City's Greatest Swordsman."

"So you're still alive."

A werewolf stepped in front of him—tall, with two prominent, crisscrossing scars on its face.

"It's you!"

The knight sucked in a breath. He remembered those scars.

The evil wolf from Nine Fields Village!

Painful memories sliced through his heart like a knife. Rage burned through his defenses, making his sword hand tremble.

"I was careless back then—I should have finished you off!" Wolf shook his head.

To the knight, this was the ultimate insult. He suppressed his fury, growling: "Every humiliation I've endured in these ten years is because of you! Today, you'll pay with your blood!"

"Heh-heh-heh—" Wolf laughed up at the sky: "You? You weren't my match back then, and now… tsk-tsk-tsk—"

The werewolf looked him up and down, and the knight's face flushed red then pale.

He's mocking my size…

"Enough talk! Fight me if you dare!" He gritted his teeth.

"Fatty, can you even fight anymore?"

When the werewolf said "fatty," the knight's entire body jolted. It was like a whip cracking against his heart. He had heard those words countless times over the years.

"Silence!" The knight roared, charging forward with his sword.

"Hmph!" Wolf sneered, swinging his blade horizontally.

Steel clashed with steel, a sharp, furious ringing echoing through the square. The knight was sent flying.

Boom!

His back slammed hard into the Watch Tower, and he crumpled to the ground. The searing pain made him gasp for air, his body curling involuntarily.

No! I can't fall!

"You're too weak." Wolf laughed as he walked toward him.

I must stand! The Brown Cloak Knight will not lose!

Amidst the rubble of the collapsing tower, he struggled to his feet. His frame wobbled, but he finally steadied himself.

"Stop pretending!" Wolf shouted, charging forward with his blade.

I won't lose!

The knight raised his sword with both hands, ready to take the werewolf's powerful strike head-on. But just as their blades were about to collide, Wolf flipped into the air, changing the trajectory of his blade to slash at the knight's left leg.

"Aah!"

Caught off guard, the knight was hit in the leg and fell to his knees.

"On the Blood Moon night, my strength is greater than ever! You stand no chance against me!" Wolf sneered.

I can't fall!

The knight propped himself up on his sword, struggling to lift his heavy body. Though the pain from his wound made him shake, the resolve in his eyes never wavered.

I. WILL. NOT. ADMIT. DEFEAT!

"Still stubborn!" The werewolf swung his blade again, this time targeting the knight's sword arm.

"Aah!"

Another wave of agony hit him. His arm fell limp to the ground.

The knight lay on his stomach, gasping for air. He could feel warm blood gushing from his severed limb, his life fading fast.

Wolf walked slowly over, placing his blade against the knight's neck: "Fatty, surrender to me."

"I… won't…" The knight forced out the words. In that moment, he almost wished the blade would slice through his neck, ending his suffering.

But Wolf pulled the blade away.

"Since I left Wolf Fort, I've fought countless battles. You're the only one who ever scarred me."

He watched the werewolf turn and walk away, his fury burning hotter. He knew Wolf was torturing him on purpose.

Damned werewolf! Don't toy with me!

Just give me a quick death…

"I want to see if anyone will come to save you this time." Wolf left with those words, vanishing into the smoke and chaos.

Damned beast!

The knight wanted to curse, but his fading strength left him unable to speak.

His vision blurred, and a faint sound echoed in his ears. It grew louder—a silver bell-like laugh, as if from a distant sky.

"Hello, Lord Brown Cloak."

The knight seemed to see her again, bending to draw water from the village stream.

A soft breeze stirred, lifting the hem of her skirt…

Ah Zhong…

He closed his eyes.

A cold wind howled, tearing down the black-and-white battle flag hanging from the Watch Tower.

The banner drifted slowly down, covering the knight's body.