The Knight walked out of the hidden chamber, the sound of his boots echoing behind him like the final toll of a bell. The monster's corpse still twitched in the dark, the scent of blood and bile thick in the cold air. His hands, still gripping the stained journals, trembled slightly—not from fear, but from the weight of what he had learned. Of what he had seen.
He stepped past the jars filled with organs and malformed creatures,things that twitched even in death,and walked up the spiraling stairwell. Every step felt heavier, like the ground itself was trying to pull him back.
He emerged into the library.
The warm light of the torches couldn't reach the coldness that hung in the air.
And then he saw them.
The staff of the mansion. Dozens of them.
Standing still.
All eyes on him.
Some wept openly. Others trembled, their eyes locked on the blood dripping from his armor. Their heads bowed. Some held each other. No one moved.
The Knight's hand moved to his blade out of instinct.
But then the butler stepped forward.
He bowed.
"Thank you," the old man said. His voice cracked, but he stood tall. "Thank you for slaying that evil monster."
The other maids, servants, and guards followed. All bowed. All murmured their thanks.
"What are you doing?" the Knight asked, his voice low and rough.
"You saved us," the butler said. "That monster… he's been using us. Taking us. Our friends. Our families. Turning them into… things."
The Knight looked down at the journals in his arms. So many names. So many failures.
"He was part of a cu—"
Before he could finish, the ground shook.
Screams echoed from beyond the walls.
A maid shrieked, "The field! The failed experiments—They're attacking the mansion!"
The Knight's eyes widened.
Adraval had said it—the seal kept the field locked. The creatures imprisoned.
But with Adraval dead...
The seal was broken.
"Shit."
He turned to the butler. "Give me a torch."
The butler obeyed without hesitation, sprinting up to the attic and returning moments later with an old oil torch, lit and flickering. The Knight took it, nodded once, and turned toward the door.
And ran.
---
Outside, the night was thick with fog.
And horror.
Twisted beasts crawled along the stone wall
,limbed things with human arms where heads should be, legs bent backward, eyes blooming like tumors. They shrieked and howled in alien voices, throwing their black, warped daggers without aim.
The Knight sprinted into the reeds, torch held high.
He didn't hesitate.
He set them ablaze.
The fire spread quickly—dry stalks erupting in flame. Heat and smoke engulfed the night. The creatures shrieked, some fleeing, others walking into the blaze like moths drawn to light.
They burned.
Their skin melted, and the reek of seared flesh filled the field. Daggers clattered. One fell by his foot.
But behind him came more.
Dozens.
One was larger than the rest, its body stitched with more limbs than form. It screamed with a dozen mouths.
The Knight turned—but he wasn't fast enough.
The ground shook beneath their charge.
Then—
A silhouette burst from the flames.
A large, dark brown horse.
Its light-yellow mane shimmered beneath the firelight.
The same horse had defeated and treated the first day he awoke.
The Knight smiled beneath his helm.
He leapt onto the back of the horse without slowing.
"To the shore!" he commanded.
The horse reared, then bolted into the night.
Behind them, the monsters chased—howling, shrieking, crawling through ash and fire. Black daggers rained toward them. One sliced past his helmet.
But he held firm.
The reeds thinned as he cut both oncoming grass and monsters alike. Red and dull green were flying everywhere.
The night opened up.
And then.....
The shore appeared.
The Field of Weapons.
---
Hundreds of swords stuck out of the ground. Spears. Axes. Blades long rusted into the dirt. It looked like a graveyard for forgotten wars.
The Knight rode to the hill that overlooked it. The ruins stood behind him—crooked pillars under moonlight.
He dismounted.
The beasts screeched and skittered down the hill behind him.
The Knight walked calmly forward.
One beast lunged.
He didn't flinch.
He picked up a spear and hurled it.
It struck the creature dead center.
It dropped instantly.
The rest slowed.
The aim and as perfect even in the night.
"The moonlight," the Knight said quietly, "highlights your hideous forms... perfectly."
He grabbed a greatsword from the ground.
The monsters hesitated.
Then charged.
The Knight met them.
Steel danced in his hands. Limbs fell. Blood sprayed. Mouths screamed.
But he kept moving.
One rusted sword broke. He grabbed another. Then another.
Every blade in the field would be used.
Every sin repaid in steel.
"The night will not end..." the Knight growled as he cut through another twisted throat, "...until every last one of you..."
A head fell.
"...is sentenced to peace."
At dawn, the staff found the Knight standing on the shattered bodies of the monsters. Dozens of weapons pierced their twisted flesh, and his sword was buried deep in the largest's mouth.
Silent and unmoving, he faced the rising sun as the servants watched in awe and quiet sorrow. The nightmare was over,at least for now.