The prison cart carrying the Rusty Key thieves slowly traveled along the damp path by Gray Mist Lake's shore, its wheels grinding through the mud with dull, heavy sounds.

Alice sat in the driver's seat, her fingers unconsciously rubbing the silver longsword pendant on her chest as if deep in thought.

Her adjutant Karen sat beside her, tightening his collar and muttering, "This damned place, it's the middle of summer but still so foggy. The humidity is so heavy it chills you to the bone."

"I hope no wild boar or something else suddenly charges out from the forest..."

"The Swamp Forest has always been like this, heavy fog is normal..." Alice responded absently, but before she could finish her sentence, her gaze suddenly sharpened and she pulled tight on the reins.

"Whoa—!"

The carriage abruptly stopped, the horses pulling it snorting restlessly.

Alice's sharp gaze shot toward the dense, shadowy depths of the forest on the left side of the road. The light was dim there, but she could clearly sense a pair of eyes watching her from within.

"Who's there?!"

Her cold voice pierced through the forest's silence.

The shadowy figure seemed to shift slightly, offering no response, but quickly turned and silently vanished into deeper darkness.

Staring at the blurred silhouette, Alice felt an inexplicable palpitation and familiarity well up inside her.

Contrary to her usual rationality, she made an unusual decision.

"Karen, watch the carriage and prisoners. I'll be right back."

Before the words fully left her mouth, she had already leaped from the carriage and rushed without hesitation into that gloomy forest.

Alice's figure moved swiftly through the shadowy woods, following the guidance of that retreating form, pushing through a banyan forest where light was almost completely extinguished.

She didn't know how much time had passed when the darkness grew thicker, sticky like the mud beneath her feet. Just as she was about to be swallowed by this oppressive darkness, the scene before her suddenly opened up.

Light, bright and warm light, poured down without warning.

She burst out of the suffocating darkness and into a clearing bathed in the brilliant afternoon sun.

In the center of the clearing stood a small outpost constructed from black bricks and tree roots. Though crude, it exuded a strange sense of stability.

And beside the outpost, most eye-catching of all, was a neatly cultivated flower garden.

Golden daisies, pure white wild lilies of the valley, and those unknown little flowers that looked like scattered purple stars bloomed vibrantly under the sunlight.

Butterflies danced lightly among the flowers, bees buzzed busily, the vibrant colors resembling a colorful fleece blanket freshly washed and laid out to dry at the edge of the dark green forest.

This small garden seemed so out of place at the edge of this swamp filled with danger and decay, yet it was so... beautiful.

Alice paused slightly, the urgency in her heart unconsciously easing a bit.

Her gaze swept around the area.

The outpost was quiet, with only a slime sitting on the wall, seemingly "observing" her with its small eyes.

But such a low-level magical creature couldn't possibly possess intelligence.

Dismissing it as her imagination, she slowly walked into the flower garden, her fingertips brushing against soft petals. While exploring this unfamiliar paradise, her eyes continued searching for that figure.

Just then, the faint sound of a horse snorting came from the other side of the outpost.

Alice followed the sound, rounding the rough corner of the outpost wall. The scene that met her eyes made her freeze in place once more.

A tall skeletal warhorse stood quietly dozing in the shadows.

Its bones showed a weathered gray-white color, covered with tattered leather battle skirts.

But strangely, it showed no hostility toward Alice's arrival, not even alertness.

It just lazily lifted its eyes, as if she were an old acquaintance.

Alice's gaze fixed on the warhorse's tattered battle skirt. Though severely faded and worn at the edges, the emblem embroidered on it remained clearly distinguishable—

A silver sword and a white wolf's head.

Time seemed to stand still at that moment.

She stepped forward slowly, reaching out her hand, fingertips trembling almost imperceptibly as she gently traced the emblem symbolizing the Arevalo family's honor and protection.

All her speculations, all her hopes against hope, settled into certainty at this moment.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

The scents of forest and garden filled her chest, carrying the warmth of sunlight, a trace of lingering melancholy, and another, more complex emotion.

Was it joy or relief... she couldn't tell herself.

When Alice opened her eyes again, they had returned to their deep, calm state.

She said nothing, only giving the unusually docile undead warhorse one final gentle pat.

Then she turned and slowly walked back through the vibrant flower garden.

Just before stepping into the forest shadows, she stopped, unfastening a shiny silver family emblem from inside her cloak.

Bending down, she gently placed it beside a cluster of blooming pale blue flowers.

Without looking back, her figure disappeared in the direction she had come from.

Beside the garden, the slime on the outpost wall lightly hopped down to the ground, then bounced like a small marble into the denser shadows behind the outpost.

Soon after, a tall figure emerged from the shadows.

Arthur cradled the small slime in his hands, his empty eye sockets gazing in the direction where Alice had disappeared, remaining silent for a long time.

"You know her?" The slime's soft voice sounded in his consciousness.

"...Sister..."

Arthur's voice was low and hoarse, equally filled with melancholy.

Even though her appearance and demeanor had completely changed, even though separated by the boundary between life and death.

That bond originating from bloodline still allowed him to instantly recognize this heroic female knight as the little Alice from his memories—the one who would tug at his clothes and cry until her nose turned red.

But she wasn't some little skeleton;

she was a living human who had grown into an excellent knight walking the warrior's path, capable of standing on her own.

"Aren't you really going to meet her?"

Arthur remained silent for a moment, fragmented memories flickering in the depths of his consciousness. Finally, he said in a low voice, "The Kingdom... Arevalo... doesn't accept the undead..."

"...I don't want to put her in a difficult position."

"I see." The little slime bounced in his palm, like a wise philosopher nodding.

"Sometimes not meeting is better than meeting. When the time is right, you'll naturally meet again later."

Arthur seemed to understand but not fully;

His Majesty's words always carried profound meaning.

He tried hard to comprehend, "Like... a trial?"

"Exactly, just like a trial."

Alice had left, leaving only a melancholy Arthur sitting dejectedly on a stone.

Fortunately, Count Bran happened to pass by and noticed.

This chatterbox crow seemed to have endless words, and his comforting skills were quite systematic too.

"Ha! Arthur, you fool, shouldn't you be happy knowing your sister is still alive?"

"What are you so melancholy about, pretending to be so profound? Hurry up and accompany this Count to the river to collect some stones."

"This is a sacred and solemn task personally assigned by the great Slime Majesty. We cannot be careless about it."

The soulfire in Arthur's eye sockets flickered slightly, his empty heart feeling somewhat filled. He stood up and nodded.

"Yes, Count Bran."