The sun was dipping below the horizon by the time the knights reached the ridge. A cold wind swept through the trees, rustling the branches with an eerie whisper, as if the forest itself was warning them to turn back.
Gale pulled the reins of his horse to a stop, his brows furrowing as he surveyed the land below. The knights followed suit, forming a cautious line along the ridge's edge.
Then—they saw it. And their blood ran cold.
The valley stretched wide beneath them, its open fields bathed in the dimming hues of twilight. But it wasn't the scenery that made the knights freeze.
It was the horde.
At first, it was hard to process what they were looking at.
Dozens—no, hundreds—of creatures gathered in the clearing below. Wolves, goblins, orcs, ogres—even beasts that should never coexist—stood side by side.
But it wasn't a battle. Nor was it a hunt. It was something far worse.
Many of the monsters stood motionless, trembling, as though they were barely holding themselves together. Others twitched erratically, their veins glowing faintly, pulsating with a sickly radiance. Some creatures clawed at the ground, their movements disjointed and unnatural, as if they were fighting something within themselves.
And then there were the others.
Scattered throughout the horde, some creatures had already collapsed. Their bodies convulsed violently, limbs seizing, contorting, twisting in ways that defied nature.
Doran, usually the first to crack a joke in tense moments, was silent.
Then, after a long pause, he muttered. "What the hell is this...?"
No one had an answer. Because this wasn't normal.
This wasn't just a group of monsters gathering.
Something was wrong. Very wrong.
The knights observed in stunned silence, their eyes scanning the valley with unease.
From this distance, they couldn't hear much—but the way the monsters moved was enough to unnerve even the most seasoned warriors.
Some staggered aimlessly, their legs barely supporting them, as if they were on the verge of collapse. Others jerked violently, their heads snapping from side to side, their mouths opening and closing in silent snarls.
And then, there were those that had lost control completely.
A Direfang Wolf thrashed on the ground, foaming at the mouth, its body contorting as if an unseen force was ripping it apart from the inside.
A goblin clawed at its own throat, gurgling as if it were choking, its own sharp nails drawing blood as it gasped for breath.
Even the larger creatures—the ogres—weren't spared. One stood hunched over, its massive hands clutching its skull, fingers digging into its own flesh as if it were trying to rip something out of its head.
The scene wasn't just unnatural. It was wrong on every level. And then—a pulse.
A ripple of energy spread through the valley, a sudden wave of mana that sent a shudder through the earth itself. The monsters reacted immediately, their bodies seizing up for a brief moment before resuming their erratic, unstable movements.
The knights felt it too—a brief, sharp pressure in their chests, like the air itself had grown heavy for a split second.
Gale's grip on his sword tightened.
That wasn't natural mana. That was something else.
"Vice-Captain..." Edric's voice was quiet, but the fear in his tone was unmistakable. "What do we do?"
Gale didn't answer right away. He was too busy thinking. This wasn't a simple monster outbreak. This wasn't just a territorial shift. Something was affecting these creatures. Something was making them unstable.
And whatever it was… It wasn't finished yet.
Finally, he exhaled and made his decision.
"We retreat." His voice was firm, unwavering. "This is beyond our forces."
Doran turned to him, frowning. "But—"
"No. We are not engaging," Gale cut him off, his eyes sharp. "We need to report this to the Captain immediately."
None of them argued. Because deep down, they all understood.
By the time the knights rode through the gates of Dawnstead, the town was alive with the soft glow of lanterns, signaling the onset of evening.
But unlike the warmth of the town, the atmosphere in the barracks was tense.
Word had spread. The knights who had remained behind sensed something was wrong the moment Gale's unit returned—their faces grim, their pace urgent, their silence heavier than steel.
By the time they reached the command hall, the entire barracks was in an uproar.
Gale didn't waste time. He marched straight into the command room, his boots echoing against the stone floor. Behind him, Doran followed, his usual smirk nowhere to be seen.
At the far end of the table, Roderic Lorne, Captain of the Dawnstead Knights, stood waiting. He was a man of experience—broad-shouldered, his face marked by years of battle, yet his sharp eyes held undeniable authority.
He studied Gale in silence for only a moment before speaking.
"You have a report." It wasn't a question.
Gale pulled off his gloves, tossing them onto the table. His jaw was set, his voice steady—but beneath it was the urgency of a man who had seen something he couldn't ignore.
"We have a problem," Gale said. "A serious one. We need to issue a subjugation request to the Adventurer's Guild—immediately."
Captain Roderic raised an eyebrow. "Why?"
Gale met his gaze.
And then, with the weight of a man who had seen something far worse than a simple monster threat, he spoke the words that would shake the room.
"Because if we don't... Dawnstead could be overrun."
The command room was suffocatingly silent.
Knights lined the chamber, their faces a mix of skepticism and unease. The tension in the air was thick, a powder keg waiting for a spark.
At the head of the table, Gale detailed everything—the unnatural horde, the mana-overloaded monsters, the way they convulsed and twisted as if their own power was destroying them from within.
And when he finished, the silence lingered.
"This is absurd."
The words came from Sir Aldric.
A senior knight, known for his pride and stubborn nature. His stance was rigid, arms crossed, his gaze sweeping over the room like a challenge.
"You expect us to believe that monsters are suddenly 'overloading' with mana and losing control? That they're gathering in hordes instead of tearing each other apart?" His tone was laced with disbelief. "It sounds like over-exaggeration. Monsters are dangerous, yes, but this? This is beyond reason."
His words sparked murmurs of agreement from a few of the knights.
The tension between Dawnstead's Knights and the Adventurer's Guild was no secret. The knights saw themselves as the town's true protectors—trained warriors, disciplined, bound by duty.
Adventurers, on the other hand, were mercenaries. Risk-takers. Fighters who battled for coin, not responsibility.
To some, calling them for help was an insult.
"Aldric." Gale's voice was firm, but calm. "You weren't there. You didn't see what we saw."
Aldric scoffed. "And what exactly did you see, Valtor?"
Gale's expression didn't change. "A Direfang Wolf took a sword through the heart and kept attacking. A goblin's veins were glowing so brightly it looked like it would burst. Does that sound normal to you?"
Aldric's eyes narrowed. "Monsters are unpredictable. Maybe it was just a rare case."
"A hundred 'rare cases' in one place?" Gale countered. "We saw a gathering, Aldric. Not a random swarm. Something is happening, and if we don't act, we'll be dealing with it at our gates."
"We have walls," Aldric shot back. "If they come, we'll fight them here, on our terms."
A low chuckle came from the side of the room.
Doran.
He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his sharp eyes locking onto Aldric. "And what happens when those 'overloaded' monsters include creatures like a Rockhide Bear? Or worse—a Basilisk?" His tone was mocking, but deadly serious. "Are you planning to hold the walls against those too?"
Aldric's jaw clenched.
Another voice entered the conversation.
Serena.
A more level-headed knight, one who had fought alongside Gale in the past. She wasn't quick to take sides—but she also wasn't blind.
She sighed. "I understand both sides."
She turned to Gale. "The Dawnstead Knights have always handled monster threats ourselves. It's what we do." Then, she turned to Aldric. "But if Gale and Doran are right, and we ignore this... The cost won't be our pride. It'll be our people."
The weight of her words settled over the room.
Pride was one thing. Lives were another.
Finally—Captain Roderic stepped forward.
The murmurs died instantly as the Captain spoke.
"Enough."
His voice cut through the tension like a blade.
He studied Gale for a long moment, as if weighing his words against years of experience. Then, he exhaled, slow and measured.
"Aldric."
The knight stiffened. "Sir."
"I understand your concerns. But I trust Gale's judgment."
Aldric's fists clenched, but he said nothing.
"We will issue the subjugation request to the Adventurer's Guild. Effective immediately."
The words were final.
Aldric inhaled sharply, his pride clearly wounded, but he gave a curt nod. "Understood, Captain."
One by one, the knights began to disperse, some discussing the implications in hushed tones, others still wary of the decision.
But as Aldric turned to leave, he paused at the door.
Without looking back, he muttered, "I hope you're right about this, Valtor."
His voice was low. "Because if you're wrong—if this turns out to be nothing—then the knights will lose more than just their pride."
Gale said nothing as Aldric disappeared down the hall.
Only when the room was empty did he exhale slowly, rubbing his temple.
The hardest part was over.
But something told him... This was only the beginning of a disaster.
The dim glow of an oil lamp cast flickering shadows across the wooden walls of the guildmaster's office. The scent of old parchment, ink, and faint traces of pipe smoke hung in the air. Behind a sturdy oak desk, Garrick Voss, guildmaster of Dawnstead's Adventurer's Guild, sat in silence, his sharp eyes scanning the document before him.
The request was stamped with the official seal of the Dawnstead Knights—urgent and non-negotiable. That alone made it unusual. The knights were known for their stubborn pride; they rarely sought outside help unless their hands were truly forced.
Standing before him, Alina, the guild's head receptionist, held her usual composed expression, though there was a slight furrow between her brows. Across the room, Boris, the grizzled quest coordinator, along with two other senior guild members, waited for Garrick to speak.
A long, heavy exhale escaped the guildmaster as he leaned back in his chair. He tapped his fingers against the armrest, his gaze lingering on the report.
A large-scale monster gathering caused by mana overload…
"...This is new." His voice was quiet, but the weight in his tone made everyone straighten.
Alina nodded, stepping forward. "And it's not miasma-related, either. According to the knights' report, the monsters aren't mutating—they're just... losing control. If this continues, we could be looking at a large-scale outbreak."
Boris scoffed, arms crossed over his broad chest. "Tch. Normally, we're cleaning up stray monsters, not dealing with a damn horde. If the knights can't handle it, that means this is serious."
Garrick didn't answer immediately. Instead, he flipped the document over, rubbing his chin as he thought. The knights of Dawnstead were well-trained. If they hesitated to handle this alone, then…
"...Numbers," he murmured. "That's the real issue here."
He glanced at Alina. "What do we have available?"
Alina pulled out a separate parchment, already anticipating the question. "Most of our C-Rank and higher adventurers are currently out on long-term assignments. That leaves mainly D-Rank and below." She hesitated. "To be blunt, it won't be enough."
A cold silence settled over the room.
Boris clicked his tongue. "Damn bad timing. If this had happened a week later, we'd have half our elites back."
One of the senior members, a wiry man named Jarek, cleared his throat. "We could delay responding. Wait for reinforcements to return before sending anyone out."
Alina frowned. "If we wait, the situation could spiral out of control. The knights wouldn't have sent this request unless it was urgent."
Boris grunted in agreement. "And if those monsters move towards town? We'll be fighting inside the walls."
Jarek held up his hands. "I'm just saying, throwing a bunch of low-rank adventurers into a death trap isn't exactly a great alternative."
Garrick listened to them all, his fingers still idly tapping against the wood. Then, finally, he leaned forward, his voice decisive.
"We don't have the luxury of waiting."
Everyone fell silent.
He exhaled sharply. "We'll make this a priority subjugation quest. Open it to all available adventurers. We'll also issue an immediate recall notice for any C-Ranks returning soon."
Alina nodded briskly, already making notes. "And the party formations?"
"No solos. Everyone goes in squads." His voice hardened. "I don't want hotheaded rookies trying to make a name for themselves and getting themselves killed."
Boris scratched his beard. "That'll work, but you know how adventurers are. They'll want more details before committing."
Garrick smirked. "That's why we'll hold a full briefing. No room for misunderstandings."
His eyes scanned the faces in the room before settling on Alina. "Prepare the quest posting. Make it clear—we're not just dealing with ordinary monsters."
Alina gave a sharp nod and turned to leave, already heading to the main hall.
Boris let out a low whistle. "Well then. Guess we'd better brace ourselves."
Garrick's expression remained unreadable as he leaned back in his chair.
A monster horde, growing unstable due to mana overload…
He had a bad feeling about this.
And his instincts were rarely wrong.
End of Chapter 17