Glenn stood still for a while, watching.

  Before him, the voluptuous female knight with strikingly long legs was tending to the bleeding wound on her arm, her expression weary and drawn.

  Footsteps approached. Without raising her head, Windsor said weakly, “I have no appetite for now. Thank you.”

  “If you’re exhausted, my lady, it would be best to rest for a while,” Glenn advised gently, his clear, well-articulated voice calm and soothing. “That way you won’t lose focus in battle.”

  Windsor glanced at him in mild surprise, as though she hadn’t expected concern from this young man.

  “I do want to rest,” she admitted with a faint smile that failed to conceal her fatigue, “but no matter how tired I am, I simply can’t fall asleep.” The faint shadows beneath her eyes slightly marred her beauty.

  Carrying trays of food for the other gryphon knights, Glenn said, “It may be due to anxiety. If you could learn to relax, perhaps the problem would resolve itself.”

  “You know medicine?” Windsor blinked, suddenly more alert. “Are you a physician?”

  “Not quite,” Glenn replied modestly. “Just a little knowledge, that’s all.”

  He was about to return for more food when Windsor called out to him again.

  “Wait. I want to relax—but lately, the demons’ attacks have grown fiercer and fiercer. We’re living on the edge of defeat and death every day. If you truly have a way to help me rest, I would be deeply grateful!”

  Several nearby female knights, who looked just as drained, turned toward them, their gazes filled with hope.

  Seeing their expectant eyes, Glenn set down the wooden pail. “I can try,” he said. “But I can’t promise it will work.”

  “Good enough,” Windsor replied immediately.

  Glenn fetched a chair with a backrest from a nearby tent—a design he himself had once inspired in the craftsmen of this region. Though such chairs were rare, they had recently gained popularity among local artisans.

  He placed it beside Windsor and gestured for her to sit. She obeyed quietly.

  Standing behind her, Glenn placed his hands lightly upon her armored shoulders. “Now, my lady,” he said, “please sit as comfortably as you can.”

  She nodded, and his fingers began to press rhythmically into the exposed muscles at the sides of her neck.

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  A low, involuntary sigh escaped the gryphon knight captain’s lips—a sound of pure relief she had never made before.

  It works, Glenn thought, gaining confidence as his hands moved with practiced precision over her temples and shoulders.

  The nearby knights, watching their captain melt under his touch, could not hide their envy.

  After a while, though, Windsor had not yet fallen asleep. Glenn frowned slightly, when she murmured, “It’s wonderful… so relaxing. But could you perhaps… do something for my arms and legs as well? They ache terribly.”

  “Ah…” Glenn hesitated. “Of course—but are you sure that’s appropriate?”

  “Don’t worry about that,” Windsor replied dismissively. “I asked you.”

  Seeing no further reason for restraint, Glenn fetched a low stool and sat before her—only for Windsor to lift one long, elegant leg and place it right in his lap.

  Well, this trip wasn’t in vain, he mused silently, amused. With swift, efficient motions, he removed her war boot.

  The knight gasped. “Wait—don’t—”

  But the boot was already off.

  Steam rose faintly from within as Glenn set it aside. “Is something wrong?” he asked, puzzled.

  Windsor averted her eyes. Though her enchanted armor absorbed most sweat and odor, a flicker of embarrassment surfaced. Would he find her unclean? The thought made her uneasy.

  She had assumed he would massage over the boot, not take it off entirely.

  There was, indeed, a trace of scent—but it was faint, almost clean. Glenn, whose senses were unusually sharp, barely noticed it. Compared to the stench of sweaty soldiers from his past life, it was nothing at all.

  Magic craftsmanship truly is extraordinary, he thought.

  A soft blush crossed Windsor’s face—an exceedingly rare sight. She feigned composure and murmured, “It’s fine. Please continue.”

  Glenn nodded and began working on her leg with quiet focus, his touch firm yet careful. He stayed below the thigh, of course—even a bold woman like Windsor had her limits.

  The pleasant warmth coursed through her body like a gentle current, and though goosebumps prickled her skin, this time she held back any sound.

  Stealing a glance at him, she noted his smooth, uncalloused hands—hands not of a laborer, yet utterly earnest as they tended to her weary limbs.

  The sensation was so strangely comforting that before long, she drifted into sleep.

  When Glenn moved to her other foot, he realized she had dozed off. Smiling faintly, he stopped. There were too many eyes around; continuing would seem improper now that his goal was achieved.

  He fetched a basin of water, removed her remaining boot, and placed both of her feet gently within it.

  Just as he stood to leave, several other knights called out eagerly, “Do us next!”

  Their eyes sparkled—not merely with fatigue, but with fondness.

  Glenn could only give a helpless smile. “One at a time, then,” he sighed.

  Deep beneath a forest, a hundred meters underground, a massive black beetle lay motionless, its body nearly thirty meters long.

  Inside its armored shell was a small chamber, lit by the eerie glow of green witchfire.

  The room stood empty—until the floor began to ripple. From the shifting ground rose a bald human head, followed by a scarred man dragging himself free, one eye blind, his bare torso marked with a tattoo of a feral beast.

  Faces formed upon the walls—four in total. One of them spoke.

  “Why are you alone? Where are the five bishops?”

  “They’re dead!” the man cried, tears spilling down his cheeks. “I saw the gryphon knights carrying away their withered corpses!”

  “No! Our bishops!”

  “This cannot be! We prepared everything—there was no way for us to fail!”

  “Something went wrong—yes, that must be it! Did the kingdom send high-ranking knights? Damn them! Whoever it was, we’ll have our revenge!”

  “Those cursed demons!” another voice howled. “Choosing our battlefield—they deserve to die as well!”

  The faces on the walls twisted in fury, their wails echoing through the subterranean chamber.