Rainfall, crashing down as it was, continued to signal the advance of an even greater storm coming.

Since the winds were picking up, all wildlife warily dug back into their holes or retreated into nearby arched hillocks for shelter. Or what was left of wildlife and nature, as they were barred from any cultivation on the land. The Eddon River seemed to be the only source left. Without it, the land wouldn't be habitable any longer.

How was this happening? Silva gleaned that the disease was contagious, affecting all forms of life through transportation. Humans, horses, and even plant life showed signs of decline. However, she couldn't connect the symptoms she saw from the sick humans in the clinic to the disease, or what the cause of the disease was. All she could do was focus on the matter at hand.

Motivated, Silva kept her pace along the river, with Guren close behind her. As she predicted, there was no fertile soil on the ground, more visible than before.

Yet, her findings were distracting her battle senses. Silva recalled the movements she used on Markus during their training, and how she would fight the knights. Doting on the fact that they were bandits, were they more experienced in stealthier combat? The name "False Knights" was unpredictable, as it could mean they may have been trained as former knights, possibly even at the Guard. That means Silva had to plan her attacks more carefully and keep up her defense.

Soon enough, the land was riddled with mud. It was trivial but could hinder them in battle. Guren lightly tapped Silva's shoulder, signaling them to rest. She could keep going but realized they needed to think of an infiltration plan into the monastery. Guren saw a patch of river grass, huddled by cottontails surrounding it. The monastery was several yards from the river grass, a deep-hued brown looming over the river.

It was quiet, too quiet.

Dropping slightly into the river water, Silva winced at how warm it was. Even though it was early July, shouldn't it be somewhat cold at first? How was the river water that humid?

"Listen," whispered Guren, and Silva realized that he had carried his heavy shield and broadsword while sprinting the whole way. Hopefully, he wasn't too tired to press on.

"This is our last chance to turn back," he said intently. "Are you cowering in fear? Afraid to kill? Now's your chance to run back to safety and apologize for acting recklessly."

As much as she hated him saying this, it was the truth. Silva had those thoughts before, but she needed to act past them to achieve her goals and give back to the good-willing. She needed fortitude, enough to stand proud against an enemy as Markus would.

This was her first chance at it.

"Did I ever tell you who I'm planning to kill?" Silva asked him, and Guren looked confused.

"Uh, where'd...that come from?" he responded, mixing up his words. "And how long have you been...planning?"

"Doesn't matter," she said firmly, excited at the event of their deaths. "It's my father and Morkazaan. If I don't have the guts to kill some no-named bandits, then to safety I run because I'd have no chance at their heads."

With that, Guren kept his mouth shut, at a loss for words at what Silva had said. She was surprised by blurting it out to him, but it was her resolve, nonetheless.

"Morkazaan, the Blazing King from hundreds of years ago?" he finally responded. "And even if your father is a terrible man, is that enough to kill him? I hope you're not goin' mad, Silva."

Silva was frustrated that Guren couldn't understand, but it was inevitable. How could her story make any sense to the common ear? Either way, she tried not to dwell on it any further, questioning Guren about their infiltration plan.

"Right, sorry," he said, averting his eyes to the monastery. "From what I see, there are several tents set up beside the monastery, with a campfire too. Even though it's been put out, you can smell the smoke coming from 'em."

Yes, she confirmed, Maybe the rain's doing us a favor. Without a massive light source, we might be able to move into the monastery unnoticed. The tents are a problem, however.

She carefully observed the monastery, its layout, and its occupants. Piecing back her memories of Rolnik's church, Silva remembered that every house of God had a bell tower. When it rang, the townsfolk would know when the sermon had begun, filing into the wide hall, and listening to Oliver's flute and Jacob's singing. Silva listened to the quietness of the plain, reciting a peaceful hymn they both chanted before.

A silent intrusion, one without the archer posted by the bell tower. That was what she envisioned through the hymn.

"We can't do anything until the archer by the bell tower is taken out," Silva told Guren. "Once I've taken the archer out, I'll use the bell to cause the distraction, which is when I'll signal you to enter through the bell tower's side. Trust me, there will be a passageway from the tower to the courtyard, which I reckon is where the horses are, and Klement too. You may have some bandits there, but I don't believe there'll be too many."

"The archer will notice us if we infiltrate outside the monastery," Guren admitted, scratching his head. "I do trust you, but we still have a choice to make regarding their bounty. As much as I want to fight them, we're severely outnumbered, and there's no telling how experienced they are in combat."

Silva had thought this too, but there was a solution to the problem.

"Take out the leader, and you take out the group," she explained. "Just think of their name. The 'False Knights' could mean these people were free warriors of the Guard, came to despise the ideals of the Czahun, and turned to a life of plunder. Still, they couldn't use straightforward, bandit-like techniques to burn and raid fortified towns. They had to be coordinated, and there had to be a Náčelník leading them. That person is the key to taking them all down."

"I see," he said, testing his blade's sharpness while pondering what Silva said. "As much as that makes sense, it's mostly speculation. Even if their leader dies, we still don't know what type of people they are. Frankly, I cannot expect any honor for their leader's demise after their violent deeds."

Rescuing Klement was their priority, but Silva couldn't help thinking about the bandits' bounty. Twenty-five gold, she recalled, for these knights, dead or alive. Piling that up with the gold I've stolen, it's more than enough for a ship and supplies to wherever the destination of my goal is.

"None of that matters," stated Silva, slowly rising from the river and fishing out the rainwater in her hair. "Whatever happens, you know that blood will be spilled. Let's not hope that it's ours."

She left Guren there, darting to each corner of her right eye. As soon as she exited the river grass, she would need to follow the river that continued east until she could almost touch the sea. Then, she'd circle back and climb to the top of the four-story bell tower. Silva couldn't make a single mistake; else the archer would hear her and fire. It needed to be swift and flawless.

Swimming quietly through the river, Silva could feel the heat rising. How was that possible? She should've been cooling down for every minute she was in the water, but now the warmth of it was becoming bothersome. Thankfully, the blissful rainwater that poured on her face was cold and refreshing.

Minute after minute, there was something Silva picked up, a sense of urgency underneath her. She used her eyes first, locating the edge of the river, where it lay by the hillside until it descended southeast through a rocky crag. From there was the Hunspr Sea, calling out to the Eddon and its inhabitants. Rather, the call was urgent, almost like a cry for help. It was shrieking, piercing her earbuds to the point where she thought they were bleeding.

Now it felt like the river was carrying her, as Silva couldn't struggle as the noise was getting louder. Whatever it was, it dragged her feet until her boots were unfastening. She could not feel them anymore as they were sinking to the bottom of the river.

The sea was close, pulling her in.

I'm so...dizzy, Silva thought, her mind in a frenzy. What's happening? I can barely hear sounds, ah, my brain is melting...melting!

My head's spinning...spinning!

I should...sleep! Yes...sleep. Sleep to make this noise in my head stop. I need it to stop!

Stop!

She stopped, opened her eyes, and looked down. Below was a waterfall, as high as the clouds. It was taking her down to a giant figure, with its mouth opened and green-stained teeth grinning.

No...it was from her dream before! It was a dream, just a dream! Silva needed something to hold onto, something to stop her fall. While focusing, observing patterns in the wind and rock-like shapes, she found a ledge! She grabbed it and held on.

Soon, reality stepped back into her mind. The Eddon River was moments close to dragging her down the cliffs and into the sea. A ridged, rocky ledge had saved her fall, as Silva had gotten too far down the river to notice. Before thinking, she tightened her grip and inched her legs to the hilltop, wishing not to fall. Though the rain made the rock slippery, Silva climbed back up the crag and rolled onto the hill, now back on Czésta land.

Breathe...slowly, she told herself, trying to figure out what went wrong. Remember the objective at hand, which is the monastery.

She picked up her feet, realizing that Hnesveta was next to her. Whether it was by sheer luck that she hadn't lost the sword, or by some fallacious way the sword picked itself up and jumped back to land, she was grateful she still had it and her baldrick intact, attaching the sword on the back of her shirt. However, she had lost her boots, standing barefoot in the mud. The monastery was still in sight, and so was the archer. Now that Silva passed the river undetected, she was ready to start her next climb.

The bell tower stood proudly at the edge of the hill, overlooking the ocean crags. It wasn't a far walk to it, and Silva had eventually reached the founding, stone-brick layer of the building. She looked around, seeing the patch of river grass in the distance, where Guren was still hiding. Above was about what she guessed, a rectangular tower that showed signs of decay.

A more challenging part was that there were little outplaced bricks, whose material had been affected by time. The monastery had to be hundreds of years old, forgotten by the Lord's messengers. Even so, it was an obstacle in her path to glory, and another thing to climb.

Silva first felt the brick, its texture rough and rusty. It would be harder to climb, but she had experienced climbing mountain rocks before. It was a much tougher substance, and she was dodging stalactites too.

If things go awry, should I use my blinding technique against the archer's arrows? Silva asked herself. Ha, maybe I am suicidal, and the sounds of the river are still echoing in my mind. It's probably not a good idea.

Beginning her climb, Silva discerned where the sills of the tower were accessible. The tower was built with many arches, making the sills harder to grab onto. One after another, Silva had almost gotten up the second gaping arch until the downpour disoriented her grip. Silva had to quickly use her other arm and right leg to latch onto the arch's side, holding on for dear life.

For a couple of seconds, Silva listened to the rain, hearing nothing from the top. She was in the clear, for now.

Already in an awkward position, Silva moved her body through the arch gap, peering through the opposite side. She saw that the inside of the monastery had been tattered through, leaving no room for shelter inside. Heaps of ancient rubble were scattered where the sermons would be held, and a lack of roofing helped the rain to cover it. However, the central courtyard was blocked off by the layout of the building, and Silva needed to climb higher to get a better look.

And she did, feeling the ruined stone on her feet and the tears on her leggings, possibly from the crag. She was losing more and more energy with every step, which was problematic for the future.

Reaching the third arch gap, Silva had one more to pass through to the top. However, her feet were feverishly trying to find some stone to land on, as she dangled in the air for some time. Despite their growing red color, Silva had to press on. But before she could, a noise from the top surfaced.

Out of the corner of her eye, Silva saw a strand of blonde hair from the right side. She immediately moved her feet to the left side, hiding from the archer's sight. She couldn't see the archer clearly but knew they had just peered down the tower. If her hearing was any slower, Silva might have been recognized.

Silence ensued, but the rain didn't stop pouring. Silva didn't know how much time had passed, but the fourth arch gap was close. All she had to do was grip the top of the gap with both hands and land her feet on the sill. Then, she had to think of some way to sneakily take out the archer and think of a distraction afterward.

As she did so, her body twitched from the stress. Silva lost her grip slightly but regained it while gritting her teeth. The fourth arch gap was smaller than the rest, making it cumbersome to fit her whole body inside. She put her feet on the dangling sill and hands on the edge of the tower balcony, crawling beneath the stone like a spider awaiting its prey.

Come on, a little more, she told herself, clenching her waist from leaning to one side. One leap to the tallest sill, and one kick to knock the archer out.

Her palms were sweating, shaking, and wet from the rain. All of these things were inconvenient for a surprise attack. Hnesveta was also dangling from her back, which motioned her to realize the strap that held it had loosened.

Crap! Silva thought. Can the archer hear it?

There were still no words from the top. Did the archer figure out she was climbing, waiting for her to appear? Silva faltered from her spot, but she had to decide quickly. Her fingers were nearing the ledge, and she was miles up from the ground. She couldn't hesitate, or she'd fall to her death.

On three, she told herself, already bowing her shoulders down for a leap. One, two, three!

She leaped off the ledge, arms reaching to the top sill. For a split second, Silva saw the archer react to her arrival, but it was too late. Her feet were already swinging forward from the jump, landing on the archer's face, and striking her in the nose. The swing was so forceful that it knocked her out cold, and she lay on the floor of the bell tower with snot coming out of her nose.

Silva landed on the balcony, using the giant, golden bell to ease her fall. The first part of her plan worked, albeit her close encounter with the bottom of the Eddon. Still, she couldn't keep Guren waiting.

Silva walked over to the archer's body, checking her pulse. Her heart was still beating, which was good. Her bow and quiver were resting next to her body, arrows scattered. Silva took a closer look at her, surprised that a woman was in this 'false knight' group. She had a small figure, a wheatish complexion, and blonde hair as long as Silva's. She seemed younger than Silva but able to yield a bow and arrow.

Maybe she was in a similar situation to Irena, Silva wondered, deciding to take the other route from failure.

She rose from the archer, concentrating on the bell next. It was bigger than she thought, coated in shimmering gold, and hung by a pully system. Silva could tell that the rope holding the bell was stationed tight but was losing its hold due to time. She wondered if one swing from Hnesveta could cut the suspension and send the bell tumbling down onto the courtyard.

As she thought, the courtyard could be viewed from this high up. Silva counted four tents, each blowing wildly in the rainstorm. A roof hung from the left corner of the courtyard, where dozens of horses were tied on leads to wooden stakes on the ground, some lying there and whinnying idly. Gathered by the horses were two men and a younger boy, one of them with short, shag blue-green hair, tan-colored skin, and a tall, lean physique. He was also wearing a white longcoat, with the insignia of a golden goose and green viper printed on the back. Next to him was the boy, with identical colored hair and skin, and a man with short, blondish-white hair and leather attire.

That must be Klement! Silva figured. I wonder who the man in the white longcoat is. Could he be their leader?

She turned to the opposite side, seeing around six men posted by their tents, and two men by the bell tower's entrance, each wearing various fur chest pieces and woven head coverings. They weren't as equipped with armor as Czahunlian warriors, which further made Silva question who these people were.

Also, she noticed that the only entrance was accessible from the outside, the rest blockaded by the building's rubble. Silva inferred that the bandits were a smart group. There was only one entrance, and an archer watching the outside. Surely, they could ambush any warriors foolish enough to charge in from the outside.

Well, they're not dealing with fools this time, Silva thought, sensing a grin purse from her lips. Now, let the show begin!

Silva climbed the balcony's arch gap like before, nearing her sword to the suspension rope. She had to make sure the bell didn't drop the wrong way, positioning it so that it would fall where the tents were. Hopefully, it would fall on the tower's stone floor first, alerting the men to dodge it fast enough.

Dying that way would be...unsettling.

First, Silva raised her sword in the sky, knocking on the stone tower enough to alert Guren. Then, with a cry and swing to the rope, Silva managed to cut it without much effort. Before long, the massive bell toppled to the ground, rolling to the right side of the courtyard as Silva predicted.

She covered her ears.

Bam!

A ringing, booming noise echoed through the rain, distancing the cries of shock from the ground. It suffered like a thundercloud, crashing onto the courtyard with a furious impact. While the soul of the monastery had been desecrated, perhaps its constant isolation from the world was finally permitted to exit the realm. Silva chanted the hymn in her head, asking all the souls buried here for their forgiveness.

Silva darted her eyes downward, seeing that Guren had heard her signal and was rushing into the bell tower's entrance. She took the chance to open the latch to the tower ladder, which would eventually end up at Guren's probable location. Hearing two whacks from the ground, she whirled down the ladder, landing on a cracked stone floor. Near the enclosed chamber was a stone archway, with pieces of solid gold sprawled amid the grassy courtyard.

To the right of the archway, Silva heard footsteps coming closer. Were they the bandits, or was it Guren?

She hid behind the archway to make sure.

In several seconds, a man with crimson-red hair dashed past her, with two hands holding his broadsword and his shield on his back. Silva hurried behind him, her eyes momentarily turning behind her. By the bell tower entrance were two bodies on the ground, victims of Guren's unlocked wrath. Right now, the second part of their plan was underway.

What preceded after were the consequences.

Among the courtyard lay the remains of the ancient, golden bell, its fragments of brass-painted metal scattered across the ground. The wooden headstock attached to its top was still there, but the bell clapper had fallen off and was laying aside one of the tents. Half of the shattered bell was resting on a tent, where one bandit was violently screaming. His legs had gotten trapped under the bell, and another bandit beside him had a piece of the bell's metal stuck in his chest.

He was dead.

I...see, Silva thought, her body shaking. I've...killed someone.

As the cries of the bandits echoed in her head, Silva grasped how thoughtless her plan was. All she needed to do was ring the bell, causing Guren to hear the signal and charge in. Now, she had to watch the horrors of her own decision unfold.

Several men rushed to their comrades' side, shouting for Klement to rush to their aid. They paid no attention to Guren and Silva, standing by the bell tower's entrance in shock.

"Silva," whispered Guren, his words trembling, "What do we do now?"

It was an accident! She didn't mean for this to happen! She didn't!

But there was no going back. Silva had already decided to kill all these bandits, regardless of what way it had to be done. But was there any remorse in her heart? Silva wondered how far into madness she'd descend before Nemesis was satisfied.

"We take advantage of the commotion," she said coldly, eyeing the man in the white coat. "We rescue Klement and take out the man in the white coat. I suspect he's the leader of this group."

Even though he feared the look in her eyes, Guren did not falter, keeping his stance. "You're right; I shouldn't have any respect for these people," he replied. "I almost forgot that they burned Auntie's town to the ground as well as Tetland. We won't let them escape!"

With that conviction, they rushed towards the destroyed bell, triggering the remaining bandits to notice their arrival. The anger in their eyes gleamed as they drew their swords out from their scabbards, reverting to an offensive stance. Silva observed their swords, and they bore a resemblance to sabers, consisting of a sharp, bent iron blade that appeared lighter and shorter. Some carried two of these swords, others holding small, silver-plated shields on the other side. One bandit held a two-sided curved axe that Silva hadn't seen before. These weapons all looked mysteriously dangerous.

The remaining four men circled Guren and Silva, leaving them no time to break free. Sensing impending peril, Silva noticed that one of the horses, wearing silver armor, was being detached from the stakes. The man in the white longcoat had said something to the younger boy, grabbing Klement by the collar and dragging him towards the horse.

They're trying to get Klement out of here! she realized. We can't let them buy time to escape.

While that was happening, Silva tilted her head to the exit, eyes at Guren before the bandits could make a move. Then, she shifted them to the bell tower passageway. Lastly, Silva moved her head in a counterclockwise direction, signaling Guren to follow behind her and keep his shield raised, treading carefully by the bandits. More so than ever, the one closest to her was confused at the tactic, wondering if he should lunge at them with his two swords.

Her mind was racing, her heart beating fast, but there was no choice. Attacking first while surrounded was the least logical option, as they would be left defenseless first. She and Guren needed an opportunity to counterattack.

And she could hear it coming.

As Silva heard the prancing of the silver-armored horse towards them, she made sure that Guren was watching her back. Illogically enough, a mace-wielding bandit was walking the same path as Guren and Silva, unable to predict his future demise. There was only a ball of hatred in his eyes, jumbling up his battle senses.

"Döwme (Do not break)!" another bandit strangely screamed from the back, waving his shield at the mace-man.

These words halted her plan, as Silva didn't know that language. What was he telling the mace bandit to do? More scenarios rushed inside her head, but there was no time to find solutions to them. Silva had to stick with her decision and trust Guren's support.

It was too late, as the mace bandit made his first move, charging at Guren from behind. At the same time, the horse carrying three people on it charged past the broken bell. The two-sword man also took the opportunity to ambush Silva, forcing a sideways right strike with one sword and a straight strike with the other.

"Now!" she ordered Guren.

He listened to her, raising his shield to protect his and Silva's front. Its wide range was able to block the side strike, but as Silva tried to dodge the left, she realized its enhanced speed, leaving a sliced mark a few inches below her left eye. However, it couldn't stop her from stepping onto the front side of Guren's shield, using it as a boost to get on the horse. With her agility and speed, it was just enough for her to grab onto the silver armor plating and tail the fleeing knights.

Averting her eyes back to Guren, the mace bandit had caught a flanking slash to the chest, unaware that Guren had enough muscle strength to swing it backward while blocking off the other bandit's assault. Silva knew he was the more experienced fighter, and she couldn't let the leader run off with Klement.

The plan had worked, but blood was drooping from her left cheek, and the leader and young boy had noticed her jump. Even so, the horse had already scurried out of the monastery, dashing north of the Eddon.

All eyes were on her, especially Klement. Alas, his expression wasn't of happiness that she had arrived to rescue him. He just looked...traumatized.

"Yakup! Kill her!" the leader shouted at the young boy, as he was driving the reigns of the horse. He was also leaning the horse from side to side, trying to get Silva off.

It's not enough! she thought with persistence.

As the boy Yakup drew out his curved sword, she noticed it was slower. Thus, Silva ducked her whole body by the horse's underbelly, swung around to avoid his strike, and used her left leg to kick Yakup off the horse. The boy collided hard with the ground, tumbling, and stopping by the riverbank.

"Yakup!" the leader cried, but it was too late. Silva raised Hnesveta, whom she had prepared for last.

"Brace yourself, Mister Klement!" she told the doctor.

Before the leader had any attempt to turn the horse, Silva plunged her sword into its side where the armor was weak. It whinnied and halted, throwing Klement and the leader into the air. Silva soon jumped off the armor, bringing Klement into her arms before they crashed into the ground. The leader flew forward with his horse, and they all landed over one of the hillocks beside the river.

Lying on the ground, Silva took a second to remind herself of what she was doing. Her clothes were wet, her feet covered in mud, her mind in a frenzy, her feet aching from the climb and the jump, and blood was still on her face. On top of all that, she had just left Guren behind to deal with the rest of the bandits, kicked a young boy flying off a horse, and then stabbed the horse to stop its tracks.

At least Klement was lying beside her. Unfortunately, he had passed out from the fall, his frail body scrunched up on the surface of the hill. Silva looked down the river plain to see if the boy Yakup was hurt. It was strange of her to think that, but she didn't want to believe he was cruel at a young age.

Yet, there was no sign of him. Even more, Silva heard footsteps coming close to her. In a moment, she could see a shag of blue-green hair blocking off her view of the sky. Under his fiendishly green eyes, Silva could almost see a row of fangs from his ghastly smile, as if he had finally snatched his prey.

"Got you," said the viper.