An Unparalleled Lunatic

Shane watched the billowing clouds of sand and the skeletons flying through the air at their crest, his eye twitching. Anyone could see that his undead creations were under attack, but who would attack him in this desolate desert?

He closed his eyes to sense them, only to find that all the undead near the sandstorm had already vanished. His heart tightened as a sense of foreboding washed over him.

He immediately summoned a skeletal hound and ignited its soul fire. At the same time, a deep blue flame lit up in one of his eyes—one of the ways to share vision with his undead creations.

Under Shane's control, the skeletal hound began to sprint toward the sandstorm.

“What's going on?”

Elon leaned in, looking toward the sandstorm in confusion. Shane shook his head and said, “The sand is too thick to see clearly. We need to get closer.”

Just as he spoke, the skeletal hound transmitted a signal of danger. Its instincts urged it to twist its body to evade an attack coming from an unknown direction.

Yet, the skeletal hound was still pinned to the ground by an immense force. It frantically turned its head, trying to get a clear look at the attacker's face.

“Ugh...”

With a soft groan, the connection severed. The sensation transmitted back from the skeletal hound made Shane feel quite uncomfortable.

He stumbled slightly and was supported by Elon beside him. “How is it?”

“I couldn't see clearly... I only caught a faint glimpse of a figure.”

Taking a deep breath, Shane composed himself, his voice heavy with concern. “Aside from that, I have no idea.”

“Don't panic just yet.”

As Elon spoke, he raised his hand to summon an owl phantom. With a flap of its wings, the phantom soared toward the sandstorm. Elon closed his eyes. “I'll take a look from above to see what's going on.”

“I think we should prepare ourselves first.”

Shane did not wait for Elon's findings. Instead, he raised his hand to summon a skeletal warhorse and mounted it. He had no desire to flee in panic only after the danger was upon them.

Just as he was debating whether to summon one for Elon as well, he saw Elon's expression suddenly change. Opening his eyes, Elon looked at Shane, a flash of sheer terror in his gaze. “Run! You need to run now!”

Shane's heart sank. He had never seen Elon wear such an expression. Who on earth could it be to make this old druid lose his composure so completely?

But since Elon had given the warning, Shane did not hesitate. He immediately prepared to turn his horse around and flee.

However, a sharp, whistling sound of tearing air roared from behind, making Shane's eardrums vibrate.

A figure burst through the sandstorm, moving at an absurdly high speed. In the blink of an eye, she had closed the distance to barely a dozen paces from him.

Only then did Shane get a clear look at her appearance.

Her short, silver-gray hair fluttered in the hot wind. She appeared to be a young girl of about sixteen or seventeen, with pale honey-toned skin that held a subtle bronze tint under the sunlight. Her jawline was sharp, her nose straight, and her thin lips were pressed into a frown, giving her an incredibly solemn look.

She possessed heterochromatic eyes—her left eye was an amber-gold, while her right was a sky-blue.

But the most striking feature was the pair of large, erect ears atop her head. Measuring about eight or nine centimeters, they stood out prominently.

For a split second, a term popped into Shane's mind: A catgirl?

But he immediately corrected himself. After all, beastkin existed in this world—Ksaz was a prime example—but beastkin usually possessed highly pronounced animalistic traits, unlike the girl before him who looked overwhelmingly human.

A mixed-blood?

In an instant, Shane understood her heritage. However, this brief moment of contemplation brought him no advantage, as she was already right in front of him.

The girl's body spun rapidly mid-dash. Relying on the momentum of her spin, she swept her massive two-handed greatsword—which was longer than she was tall—toward him, aiming precisely at the front legs of Shane's skeletal warhorse.

The air hummed from the sheer force of the swing. Shane commanded his warhorse to rear up, narrowly evading the slash.

However, the moment the horse's hooves touched the ground, she had already completed another spin. Kicking the flat of the blade, she used the momentum to raise the greatsword high.

A heavy, vertical downward slash crashed toward Shane, threatening to cleave both man and horse in two.

At the critical moment, a pale blue light swept in from the side, striking the side of the greatsword with precision.

The balance of the blade was instantly thrown off. The edge swept past Shane's leg and slammed into the ground, kicking up a cloud of dust.

Seizing the opportunity, Shane pointed his finger at her. “Ray of Fear!”

A dark green beam shot from his fingertip, striking the girl squarely in the face. In an instant, a layer of pitch-black shadow covered her vision, causing her movements to grind to a sudden halt.

It hit!

Shane rejoiced inwardly. But just as he was about to use this chance to pull back, a furious roar erupted from the girl's mouth.

The sound carried an indescribable pressure, making Shane feel as though an enraged beast was roaring in his ears. Simultaneously, a shockwave of sound wrapped in golden light exploded from within her, instantly dispelling the shadow.

Feral Roar—a high-level beastkin technique!

Shane immediately recognized her move, but the roar still left his head ringing and slightly dazed.

However, the girl's next attack did not come. Elon's booming voice rang out in Shane's ears: “Run! Go to the camp and find Her Highness! You are no match for her—she is a Judgment Knight!”

Elon then stepped in front of the girl, raising both hands as green light gathered around him. “Sern Lancaster! You lunatic, calm down! This man is the Princess's honored guest!”

Committing the name Elon spoke to memory, Shane seized the opportunity to immediately wheel his horse around, galloping toward the camp without a single moment's pause.

Before he had gone very far, the sound of intense fighting echoed from behind. Clearly, the girl had not stopped her attack just because of Elon's words.

Shane quickly rode all the way back to the camp. When he dismounted, his face was dreadfully grim.

“Your Highness!”

He searched around and soon spotted a fiery-red figure. Alicia was currently standing in the camp, organizing their work. Hearing Shane's voice, she turned to look at him.

“What's wrong? Your face looks rather...”

“Sern Lancaster.”

Shane blurted out the name immediately. “Do you know her?”

The very next second, Alicia's expression shifted completely. Her eyes widened slightly in brief confusion, followed by a fleeting flash of worry, before she finally looked at Shane with a touch of pity.

“You met her?”

Sensing the tension in the Princess's voice, Shane nodded and replied, “The undead watering the plants were all crushed by her, and she tried to cleave me with a sword that's ridiculously massive.”

“Of course...”

“You know her?”

“Know her?”

The Princess let out a bitter laugh. “There is no one in the entire Empire who doesn't know her. She is the youngest Judgment Knight of the Church of Life. Once, in her pursuit of a single necromancer, she blew up a third of a city. Afterward, the Church's only punishment for her was a six-month confinement.”

Shane's eye twitched. He could clearly tell that she was a major troublemaker. Seeing his expression, the Princess's face turned somewhat complex. “You should know, in her eyes, there are only two kinds of people in this world: necromancers, and those who get in her way of killing necromancers...”

“Where is she now?”

“Elon is holding her back.”

Hearing this, the Princess frowned. She pursed her lips, then turned to a nearby attendant. “Bring me my sword.”

Watching her, Shane found it somewhat novel. Having spent so much time together, this was the first time he had ever seen the Princess look anxious.

Shortly after, the Princess walked toward the edge of the camp, gripping her longsword. A commotion was already brewing there, with the nervous voices of the guards ringing out continuously: “Sir Knight! You cannot enter without Her Highness's permission...”

“Step aside.”

A slightly raspy female voice carried an inexplicable pressure. The surrounding guards were utterly unable to stop her.

Sern Lancaster stood at the entrance of the camp, her greatsword thrust into the sand beside her. Her bright white light armor was almost completely intact, with only the leather pauldron on her shoulder slightly askew. Clearly, even Elon had failed to stop her.

She raised her head and looked at the approaching Princess, offering no etiquette whatsoever. “Your Highness.”

“Sern.”

Alicia stood before her, maintaining a polite smile. “It has been a long time.”

Sern did not return the pleasantry. She tilted her head slightly, looking deep into the camp. “I know the necromancer is inside. Please hand him over.”

But Alicia had no intention of doing as Sern demanded. She prepared to change the subject first. “Sern, it has been a long time. Why don't we sit down first and catch up...”

“Do you know, Your Highness?”

Sern interrupted the Princess, staring at her expressionlessly with her heterochromatic eyes. “Elon said something just now. He said, ‘That necromancer is the Princess's honored guest.’”

As she spoke, the smile on Alicia's face froze. She sensed that things were about to take a turn for the worse.

Sure enough, Sern moved.

She pulled the greatsword from the sand. In an instant, her body spun to build momentum, and the greatsword in her hands swept outward with a whistling roar, slicing directly toward the Princess's face.

“Your Highness!”

The surrounding guards cried out, but none of them could react in time.

With a loud crash, a bone spear flew in from the side, striking the flat of the greatsword with precision.

Shane walked out from the depths of the camp, a lingering trace of dark green magic still clinging to his trembling fingertips. He looked at Sern, his face expressionless and his voice cold as ice:

“If you have a problem, direct it at me. Don't touch her.”