Late autumn, the cold air, and the damp chill wind blew across the highlands of the Gray Mountain Range. Here it was gloomy, wet, and the sky continued to drizzle. The fragile tent canvas bore many holes, yet it barely managed to fend off the rain’s invasion.

Inside the tent, weak flames crackled on the pile of firewood. Everyone inside the tent was asleep, having laid simple blankets on the muddy, slippery grassland, sleeping fully clothed.

Such superior living conditions could naturally only belong to the Count’s Long Halberd Corps.

The great army was gradually nearing the Black Stone Stronghold. Though there were no major battles along the way, small skirmishes were plenty. Scattered Undead roamed the wilds, and the Knight Army crushed them one by one, eliminating them completely. Each time a small Undead Army was defeated, the knights gathered the soldiers, extolling how they saved the country from the Green Skin, Chaos, and Undead. They fervently showcased their courage in vanquishing evildoers. The young Ranger Knights particularly enjoyed criticizing the peasants for various actions not aligned with the Knightly Spirit, yet they ordered them to loot the corpses for the dead’s belongings.

For income, for survival, the peasants had no choice but to comply.

Outside, the sky unveiled a touch of whiteness; dawn was about to break.

Long Halberdier Remon felt he couldn’t sleep. He turned over, got up, and donned his gear: sturdy chest armor, blue and white tight-fitting clothes, leather gloves, along with his long halberd and the short knife at his waist. With his equipment on, Remon noticed the firewood’s flame was very weak. The young long halberdier retrieved a piece of wet wood, stuffed it into the fire, lifted the curtain, and walked out of the tent.

He took a small square box from his bosom and, in the first ray of morning light, began his prayer: "My Lord, God of Justice, your follower Remon prays to you here."

The young long halberdier’s brown hair was somewhat disheveled. Beneath his slightly tanned skin were blue eyes; his complexion was rosy and healthy. His mind held some early morning confusion, coupled with an indefinable fervor. Just three days ago, he and his long halberd tasted the first drop of blood from an undead creature.

The small square box opened, revealing the Holy Statue of the God of Justice carved in stone in front of Remon. The workmanship of this statue was not exquisite. The God of Justice held a Warhammer and a balance, his hollow eyes quietly observing Remon.

"My Lord, God of Justice, I pray to you. Under your blessing, I have traversed another day’s journey. When dawn comes and darkness retreats, I know this is another day under your blessing."

"Today is my twentieth birthday, thank you, my Lord, for twenty years of life. Your grace makes me strong."

"I will still be weak, still feel fear, I will still stumble. It is the power from your high celestial throne that blesses me, giving me the courage to face all this. My loyalty will remain unwavering. To serve you, I fear neither death nor pain. My Lord, God of Justice, I beg you to use your righteous Warhammer to judge all, and your fair balance to measure all. Though I do not know the road of tomorrow, I know you control tomorrow, you hold my hand."

"And I will use my long halberd and my faith to prove myself, may you grant me honor."

"Prayer is over." Remon lifted his head. The morning light pierced through the clouds. The entire camp of the Knightly Army had already awakened. Knights were seeking their warhorses and escorts. The Dwarves’ war machines moved slowly, plowing deep furrows in the muddy ground, and loud drumbeats echoed across the land.

The rain in the sky grew heavier. In the distance, the horns of the Undead Legion sounded faintly. Remon tightly gripped the long halberd in his hand. He knew it wasn’t an illusion or anything else. On the way from Jisoleox to the Black Stone Stronghold, small-scale battles had already been fought several times. The soldiers were no longer unfamiliar with the undead.

"A splendid prayer, young man." A sergeant dressed in green, with a tricorn hat on his head, came up to Remon’s side: "So today is your birthday?" 𝑓𝓇𝘦ℯ𝘸𝘦𝑏𝓃𝑜𝘷ℯ𝑙.𝑐𝑜𝓂

"Yes, Mr. Bertrand." Remon picked up his helmet, whose plume had long since vanished in a previous battle. This made the halberdier appear bald when he donned the helmet, but he was truly thankful that it was the plume lost, not his head.

"Happy birthday, soldier." Bertrand handed over his canteen: "Imperial Black Beer."

"Thank you." Remon took the canteen and drank a mouthful. The rich taste of the black beer invigorated the halberdier. He returned the canteen to Bertrand: "Hope today won’t be my last birthday."

"Heh." Bertrand shook his head and gestured for Remon to look around.

The great army was assembling under the knights’ commands. Numbers reaching as many as four thousand knights loudly signaled to prepare for battle. Lords led their respective troops, shouting their designations, gathering the soldiers.

The Bastogne Duchy army dressed in red and yellow, the Winford Duchy army dressed in blue and white, the Montfort Duchy army dressed in black and white, and the armored Dwarf Legion were gradually assembling under the light of dawn.

Every lord, knight, warrior, and peasant played their roles.

The cold wind howled. The white snow atop the peaks of the Gray Mountain Range watched over the Knightly Army. A thousand years ago, these majestic heights bore witness to the tale of the First Knight King Arthur, the First Holy Grail Knight, and Duke of Montfort, Mark Luther. Now, they were about to witness a new legend.