SSS Unknown: Dark Knight's Legacy

"Oh god," Alice muttered, her voice trembling as she struggled to keep her composure.

She grimaced, her face contorted with a mix of shock and disgust, at the grotesque scene before her.

Carnage. So much carnage.

The air was thick with the stench of death, a nauseating blend of blood, burnt flesh, and decay. Goblin corpses littered the battlefield, piled haphazardly into grotesque mounds that reached as high as small hills.

Limbs twisted at unnatural angles, lifeless eyes stared into nothingness, and dark pools of blood spread beneath the lifeless bodies like some macabre artwork.

Alice could feel her stomach churn as she stepped closer, her boots squelching through the sticky crimson mud formed from dirt and goblin entrails.

The sheer scale of the massacre was overwhelming, a horrifying testament to the brutality that had unfolded here.

"How could one single person cause this?" Alice whispered, her voice barely audible over the eerie silence that blanketed the battlefield. Her hands trembled as she clutched her weapon tighter, her knuckles turning ghostly white from the strain.

Standing beside her, Lagon, the towering wolfman with a muscular frame and fur glinting faintly in the dim light, surveyed the grotesque scene with an unnerving calm.

His golden eyes, sharp and calculating, scanned the mountain of goblin corpses without a hint of emotion.

"Hm, we just have to clean up the mess," he said, his voice deep and steady, carrying an air of indifference that made Alice's skin crawl.

Lagon's casual attitude unnerved her. How could anyone remain so unaffected by such a scene? The sheer scale of death—the mutilated bodies, the blood-soaked earth, and the suffocating smell of rot—was more than Alice could process.

Yet, he seemed utterly unbothered, as though this was just another day in their harsh, unforgiving world.

Her unease deepened. She had always known this world was cruel, a place where survival often meant embracing violence and bloodshed.

But this? This was beyond cruel. This was a merciless display of power, an overwhelming force that had reduced an entire goblin horde to little more than mangled remains.

Alice swallowed hard, her stomach twisting. The situation benefited her; she knew that much. The elimination of the goblins cleared the path for their mission. Yet, despite the advantage it gave her, she felt no satisfaction. No relief.

All she could feel was a gnawing sense of dread and an emptiness that refused to be filled.

It was like the war all over again.

Her mind was dragged back to those haunting memories—countless deaths, a sea of blood stretching as far as the eye could see, and the echoing cries of the fallen.

The faces of the dead blurred together in her mind, their expressions frozen in anguish. She could almost smell the metallic tang of blood in the air, mingling with the stench of decay.

She despised it. She despised the meaninglessness of it all, the relentless cycle of violence and destruction. Every conflict seemed to leave behind nothing but grief and hollow victories. No matter which side claimed triumph, the cost was always too high.

Yet, she couldn't afford the luxury of despair.

Alice clenched her fists, forcing her trembling hands to still. She had to press on. No matter how much it hurt, no matter how heavy the burden on her shoulders grew, she couldn't stop. She had to keep moving forward, had to carve a path through this endless chaos.

For them.

For the people she loved, the ones who still waited for her, who believed in her. If she faltered now, if she allowed herself to succumb to the weight of her sorrow, she would lose them too.

And that was a pain she refused to endure.

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Alice straightened her back. Her grip on her weapon firmed as resolve replaced the hesitation in her eyes. She cast one last glance at the carnage surrounding her before turning toward Lagon.

"Let's finish this, Commander." She said, her voice steady despite the turmoil in her heart.

***

After several days of demanding effort, the expedition team had managed to clear the area of the goblin corpses, their bodies reduced to ash through the controlled use of fire magic.

The stench of burning flesh lingered for a time, a grim reminder of the carnage that had unfolded here.

In the aftermath, they used the ruin of the goblin and erected a small but formidable stronghold.

Reinforced with enchanted barriers and fortified walls, it stood as both a defensive structure and a staging ground for future operations. Scouts patrolled the perimeter, their eyes vigilant for any threats lurking in the surrounding wilderness.

The failure of Steel's group to assassinate Unknown had not gone unnoticed. The news had quickly reached Lagon's ears, delivered by a wary Meat who had been traumatized to the point of collapse. 

Despite the neutral tone of the report, the failure was a clear blemish on his reputation—a fact that did not sit well with Lagon.

Now, within the shadowy confines of the stronghold, Lagon and his inner circle gathered around a large wooden table, its surface etched with crude maps and notes. The tension in the air was palpable as they discussed their next course of action.

"We underestimated him," Lagon said, his deep, rumbling voice cutting through the silence. His expression was unreadable, but his golden eyes gleamed with dangerous intent.

"The Death Knight is more formidable than we anticipated. We won't make the same mistake twice."

Alice stood nearby, arms crossed, listening in silence. Her unease about the mission persisted, but she said nothing. She wasn't in a position to question Lagon's authority, even if she doubted the necessity of pursuing Unknown with such relentless focus.

"Plans are already underway," Lagon declared, his clawed finger tracing the intricate lines on the map spread across the table. His tone carried an air of authority that demanded attention. "We'll corner him this time. No missteps, no second chances."

Around the table, murmurs of agreement rippled through the group. The tension in the room was palpable as each member leaned in, their faces etched with grim determination. Strategies were exchanged, tactics debated, and roles assigned, all in the hopes of crafting a foolproof plan.

Yet, despite the outward show of confidence, an unspoken truth lingered among them—taking down Unknown was a task far more daunting than any of them dared admit aloud.

As the murmurs began to subside, Lagon leaned back in his chair, his piercing golden eyes scanning the room. "Now tell me," he began, his voice low and deliberate, "who among us wanted to kill that beast?"

The word beast hung in the air, heavy with implication. In this context, it was no mere creature he referred to, but the man known as Unknown—a force of nature who had turned an entire battlefield into a graveyard.

For a moment, no one spoke. The faint crackling of a torch in the corner was the only sound to break the silence. Lagon's gaze shifted from one face to the next, his expression betraying neither impatience nor anger, but a quiet intensity that made the question impossible to ignore.

Alice, standing at the edge of the group, opened her mouth as if to speak but hesitated. She had voiced her doubts before, but now, in the oppressive silence of the room, her courage faltered.

No one answered.

The room sank into silence, each individual seemingly unwilling—or unable—to claim responsibility for the assassination attempt. Whether it was out of fear of Unknown's power, reluctance to admit failure, or a more personal reason, no one dared step forward.

Lagon exhaled slowly, the sound akin to a low growl. "So," he said, his tone colder now, "we're all content to let this monster roam free, then?"

The question, though rhetorical, was met with shifting gazes and tense shoulders. The air in the room grew thicker, the tension pressing down on everyone like a suffocating weight. Alice's grip tightened around her weapon, her knuckles turning white as she fought to steady her breathing.

In the heavy silence that followed, the gravity of the task loomed large, a shadow cast over their collective resolve. No one dared to speak, the unspoken fears and doubts festering in the back of their minds.

But then, without warning, an unnatural force surged through the room.

A sharp, shocking sensation struck like a bolt of lightning, rushing through their heads with an intensity that left them momentarily stunned. It wasn't pain, exactly, but a tingling jolt that seemed to resonate deep within their very being.

Alice gasped, clutching her head as a strange pressure bore down on her mind. Around the table, others reacted similarly, some wincing, others staggering as they tried to make sense of what was happening.

It felt as if the dungeon itself had suddenly come alive, its very time-space contracting and expanding with violent, unnatural rhythm. The sensation was eerily familiar, reminiscent of stepping through a time-space rift, but far more disorienting.

"What... what is this?" Lagon growled, his claws digging into the table for support as he tried to shake off the strange sensation.

The air rippled, shimmering as though reality itself were bending. Then, out of nowhere, a cold, monotonous voice echoed through the chamber, devoid of emotion yet filled with an ominous weight.

[Sword of Desire] Awaken.

The words hung in the air, resonating like the toll of a bell. The group froze, their eyes darting around the room in search of the source, but there was nothing—no figure, no visible entity, just the disembodied voice that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere all at once.

'How?' Alice thought, her mind racing with a flurry of questions that had no immediate answers. The disembodied voice, the ominous name, the oppressive atmosphere—it all pointed to one undeniable fact:

Their goal of obtaining the sword was slipping further from their grasp.

Her pulse quickened as the realization settled in. 'The Sword of Desire... It's already awakened.'

The implications were clear. Whatever entity or force had claimed the sword was now active, and their window of opportunity was closing faster than they could have anticipated. The longer they waited, the stronger their opponent would become.

Alice glanced around the room, her sharp eyes scanning the faces of her comrades. Lagon's normally stoic expression was grim, his brow furrowed in thought. 

Others showed varying degrees of unease—tightened jaws, nervous fidgeting, trembling hands clutching weapons. The voice, the power it hinted at, had shaken them all.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Lagon's low growl. "We can't afford to waste time." His claws scraped against the map on the table as he leaned forward, his eyes blazing with determination. "If we hesitate, we lose everything."

Alice nodded, steeling herself. "We take action now. We don't have the luxury to second-guess."

"But how do we even approach it?" One of the others interjected; their voice tinged with panic. "This wasn't in any of the plans! That voice, the sword—it had already chosen someone!"

"Then we take it from them," Lagon snapped, his tone brooking no argument. "No sword, no wielder, no power. It's as simple as that."

Alice's grip on her weapon tightened. She knew the stakes. This wasn't just about power or glory anymore—it was survival. 

Whoever or whatever held the Sword of Desire would wield unimaginable power, and if it fell into the wrong hands, the consequences would be catastrophic.

And all of them knew that.

From that day on, the hunt for [Sword of Desire] and its owner started.