Chapter 1 : Shadows at the Border Castle

I. Twilight at the Border

The western border of the Kingdom of Albion was painted gold by the setting sun.

Arthur Pendragon reined in his horse atop a hill, looking down at the border castle below. This military fortress, named "Silver Shield Keep," stood as Albion''s first line of defense against the Eastern Roman Empire, appearing particularly lonely in the gathering dusk.

"Your Highness, it''s getting late. We should return to the castle," reminded Lancelot, the knight accompanying him.

Arthur nodded, but his gaze remained fixed on the distant horizon. As Prince of Albion, he should have been enjoying court life in the capital Camelot, not inspecting this desolate border. But since his father Uther fell ill, the weight of the kingdom had gradually settled on his shoulders.

"Lance, do you really think the Eastern Romans will attack?" Arthur asked, his voice carrying a weight beyond his years.

Lancelot was silent for a moment. "Prince Constantine may be our ally, but the Eastern Roman Emperor has always coveted Albion''s territory. The border tension is nothing new."

Arthur sighed. At eighteen, he faced a divided continent—the Eastern Roman Empire watching from the east, the Visigothic Kingdom stirring in the south, and northern barbarians raiding the borders. Within Albion itself, nobles doubted whether this "frivolous prince" could inherit the throne.

Even his most trusted mentor, the Silver Knight John, was strict with him. John always said, "Arthur, a true king proves himself not by bloodline, but by action."

"Action..." Arthur murmured to himself, turning his horse toward the castle.

II. Attack Under the Full Moon

In Silver Shield Keep''s banquet hall, the fireplace crackled.

Arthur sat at the head of the long table, listening to the border commander''s report. The roasted boar and ale on the table remained almost untouched, his mind wholly occupied with border defense.

"...Recently, Eastern Roman patrols have been crossing the border frequently. Though they''re small conflicts, the frequency is increasing," the commander said. "And there are rumors of dark sorcerers active along the border."

"Dark sorcerers?" Arthur frowned. "Those pagan cultists who worship the old gods?"

"Yes, Your Highness. They''re said to be performing some dark ritual, possibly related to... werewolves."

At the word "werewolf," the atmosphere in the banquet hall visibly tensed. Werewolves—those half-human, half-wolf creatures—had always been a taboo subject on the continent. Some worshipped them as messengers of the Moon God, but more feared them as bloodthirsty monsters.

Arthur was about to speak when alarms sounded from outside the castle.

"Enemy attack! Enemy attack!"

The banquet hall descended into chaos. Arthur grabbed a sword from the table, shouting to Lancelot, "Protect the civilians! I''m going to the walls!"

"Your Highness, it''s too dangerous!" Lancelot tried to stop him, but Arthur had already rushed out.

Outside the castle, moonlight bathed the battlefield, illuminating a bizarre scene. Dozens of black-clad assassins were fighting the guards, but these assassins moved with unnatural speed, their eyes glowing with an eerie green light in the darkness.

"Werewolf assassins!" a guard cried out.

Arthur''s heart sank. If the Eastern Roman Empire had allied with werewolves, Albion would face an unprecedented threat. He joined the fray, but soon realized he was completely outmatched. These werewolf assassins possessed speed and strength far beyond normal humans, making his ordinary swordsmanship seem clumsy and ineffective.

A werewolf assassin lunged at Arthur, claws aimed straight for his throat. Arthur barely managed to raise his sword to block, but the tremendous force numbed his hand, sending his sword flying.

Just as the claws were about to touch his neck, a black shadow descended from above.

III. Savior from the Shadows

It was a tall man dressed in black leather armor, wearing a half-wolf mask. He carried no weapons, only hands—or rather, claws—covered in black fur.

"Step back." The man''s voice was low and hoarse, carrying an undeniable command.

The werewolf assassin growled threateningly, but the man merely crouched slightly, adopting an attack stance. In the next instant, his figure vanished, reappearing behind the assassin. Black claws flashed, and the werewolf assassin fell to the ground before he could react.

Arthur stared in shock. This mysterious man was faster and stronger than the werewolf assassins. And he was clearly a werewolf himself—the black fur on his hands, those golden eyes glowing behind the mask, the wild aura he exuded in battle.

The remaining werewolf assassins seemed to recognize this man. They hissed in fear and began to retreat. But the man gave them no chance. His figure became a series of afterimages in the moonlight, each flash accompanied by another assassin falling.

In less than a minute, all the werewolf assassins lay on the ground. The man stood among the corpses, slowly turning to look at Arthur.

Moonlight illuminated him, allowing Arthur to see him clearly. The man stood over six feet tall, broad-shouldered and powerfully built, with black hair flowing in the night wind. The mask covered the upper half of his face, revealing only a determined jaw and thin lips. Most striking was the scar on his left cheek, running from temple to jawline, as if left by some savage beast.

"You... who are you?" Arthur asked, his hand subtly moving toward the dagger at his waist.

The man didn''t answer. Instead, he walked to an assassin''s corpse, knelt, and examined it. He used a claw to slit the assassin''s clothing, revealing a brand on the chest—a wolf head pierced by a sword.

"Shadow Brotherhood," the man murmured, his voice filled with unmistakable disgust.

"Shadow Brotherhood? What''s that?" Arthur pressed.

The man stood, looking at Arthur. "A werewolf cult that worships darkness. They serve the Eastern Roman Emperor." He paused. "You''re the Prince of Albion?"

"I am Arthur Pendragon. You still haven''t answered my question."

The man was silent for a moment. "Call me Victor. I''m just a passing mercenary."

"A mercenary?" Arthur didn''t believe it. No mercenary had such power to single-handedly defeat an entire squad of werewolf assassins. "Why did you save me?"

Victor''s golden eyes glimmered behind the mask. "Maybe I just don''t like the Shadow Brotherhood." His tone was flat, but Arthur could hear a suppressed emotion.

Just then, Lancelot arrived with guards. "Your Highness! Are you all right?" Seeing the corpses and Victor, he immediately drew his sword, alert. "Who are you?"

"He''s Victor. He just saved me," Arthur said, though his gaze remained fixed on Victor. "Victor, if you''re truly a mercenary, I''ll hire you. Silver Shield Keep needs warriors like you."

Victor seemed surprised. "You''re not afraid of me? I''m a werewolf."

"I can see that," Arthur said calmly. "But as you can see, my enemies include werewolves too. I need to understand them, to fight them. And you clearly know the Shadow Brotherhood well."

Victor was silent for a long time, so long Arthur thought he would refuse. But finally, he nodded.

"I can stay. But on two conditions." Victor said. "First, I take orders from no one. I act my own way. Second, don''t ask about my past."

Arthur considered these conditions. As a prince, he was accustomed to giving orders, not accepting conditions. But this man was different—he had saved Arthur''s life, and his strength was formidable. In these perilous border times, such a warrior was invaluable.

"I accept." Arthur extended his hand. "Welcome to Silver Shield Keep, Victor."

Victor looked at Arthur''s outstretched hand, hesitated, then reached out to grasp it. His hand was large, completely enveloping Arthur''s, his palm rough with calluses, but his grip was restrained.

The moment their hands touched, Arthur felt a strange warmth flow from Victor''s palm, spreading up his arm and throughout his body. The sensation was both unfamiliar and familiar, as if awakening something long dormant within him.

Victor seemed to feel it too. His golden eyes widened, fixed intently on Arthur.

"You..." Victor''s voice held disbelief. "Your bloodline..."

"What about my bloodline?" Arthur asked, puzzled.

Victor released his hand, taking a step back, his expression behind the mask unreadable. "Nothing." He turned toward the castle. "Arrange a room for me, away from others. The full moon is coming."

IV. Arrival of the Silver Knight

Three days later, the Silver Knight John arrived at Silver Shield Keep.

When that shining silver armor appeared at the castle gates, all guards stood at attention. John Silverblade, Albion''s chief knight, the kingdom''s mightiest warrior, and Arthur''s mentor.

Arthur greeted John in the courtyard. Even from a distance, he could feel the authority emanating from John. Though in his forties, time seemed to have left little mark on him. He stood tall and straight, silver hair neatly tied back, blue eyes sharp as an eagle''s.

"Arthur." John dismounted, his voice calm but carrying reproach. "I heard you nearly died at the hands of werewolf assassins."

"But I''m still alive, teacher," Arthur replied, trying for a light tone.

John''s gaze swept the courtyard, finally settling on a figure at a tower window. Victor stood there, looking down. Even from this distance, the two powerful warriors seemed to sense each other''s presence.

"Who is that?" John asked, his voice tinged with wariness.

"His name is Victor, a mercenary. He saved me," Arthur explained.

"A mercenary?" John''s brow furrowed. "Arthur, you shouldn''t trust strangers so easily, especially at the border."

"But he saved my life. And he fought Shadow Brotherhood werewolf assassins."

At "Shadow Brotherhood," John''s expression turned serious. "The Shadow Brotherhood... they''ve truly appeared." He looked toward Victor. "This Victor, who is he?"

"He says he''s just a mercenary, but..." Arthur hesitated. "I think he''s more than that. He''s incredibly strong, unbelievably so. And he''s a werewolf too."

A complex emotion flashed in John''s eyes. "Werewolves... Arthur, do you know what werewolves mean?"

"They mean danger, but also power," Arthur said. "Teacher, you once told me to understand the enemy to defeat them. Now our enemies include werewolves, and Victor might be our window to understanding them."

John was silent for a long time, finally sighing. "Take me to see him."

V. Confrontation of Two Warriors

In the tower room, Victor was cleaning his claws—or rather, his hands. Seeing John enter, he didn''t rise, merely lifting his eyes.

"Silver Knight." Victor''s voice was flat. "I''ve heard much about you."

"Victor." John stood at the doorway, not approaching. "Prince Arthur says you saved his life. For that, I thank you. But I must know who you truly are and why you''re here."

Victor set down the cloth. "I''ve said, I''m just a mercenary."

"A mercenary who can single-handedly defeat an entire squad of Shadow Brotherhood assassins?" John''s tone held skepticism. "With such strength, you wouldn''t be unknown on the continent."

Victor stood. He was as tall as John, but their auras were completely different. If John symbolized order and light, then Victor embodied wildness and darkness. As they faced each other, the air in the room seemed to freeze.

"Everyone has a past, Silver Knight," Victor said. "My past has nothing to do with now. What matters is that I now serve Prince Arthur."

"Why?" John pressed. "A warrior like you, why would serve a prince at a border castle?"

Victor''s golden eyes looked to the night sky outside the window, the moon nearly full. "Perhaps I''m just tired of wandering." His voice held an emotion Arthur couldn''t decipher. "Perhaps... I''ve seen something worth protecting."

John seemed about to ask more when the castle alarms sounded again.

"Enemy attack! Eastern Roman army!"

All three rushed to the window. On the plains outside the castle, a dark mass of troops was gathering, the Eastern Roman eagle banner fluttering in the night wind. And before this army stood several figures—their eyes glowing with that same eerie green light in the darkness.

"Shadow Brotherhood''s main force," Victor said quietly. "They''ve brought true werewolf warriors."

John drew the silver sword at his waist. "Arthur, stay in the castle. Victor..." He looked at the black-clad werewolf. "You and I will face them."

Victor put on his wolf mask, black claws extending from his fingertips. "Suits me fine."

Arthur looked at both of them, suddenly saying, "I''m going with you."

"No!" John and Victor said in unison.

"I am Prince of Albion. This is my castle, my people," Arthur said firmly. "I won''t hide in safety while others fight for me."

John wanted to object, but Victor spoke first: "Let him go, Silver Knight. Kings aren''t raised in greenhouses."

John looked at Arthur''s determined eyes, finally nodding. "Stay by my side. Don''t leave my sight."

VI. Battlefield Under the Moon

The castle gates opened, Albion''s knights riding out. John sat astride a white warhorse, silver armor gleaming in the moonlight. Victor didn''t ride; he walked at the front of the formation, like a wolf ready to hunt.

The Eastern Roman army''s commander was a middle-aged man in ornate armor, flanked by three tall werewolf warriors. These werewolves differed from the earlier assassins—they maintained full werewolf form: powerful bodies covered in gray fur, wolf-like heads, eyes burning with bloodlust.

"Prince of Albion!" the Eastern Roman commander shouted. "Surrender! Hand over Silver Shield Keep, and I''ll spare your life!"

Arthur rode forward. "Silver Shield Keep is Albion''s territory. I won''t hand it over to anyone."

"Then don''t blame me!" The commander waved his hand. "Shadow Brotherhood, show your power!"

The three werewolf warriors let out earth-shaking roars, charging Albion''s lines. Their speed was terrifying; ordinary knights couldn''t react in time.

But Victor was faster.

His figure became a black lightning bolt, meeting the first werewolf warrior. Claw met claw with a metallic clash. Victor''s strength was clearly greater; with one swipe, he tore open his opponent''s chest, then without pause charged the second.

John joined the fight, his silver sword tracing elegant arcs through the air. Silver had special effects on werewolves; the second warrior flinched before the silver sword, and John beheaded him with one stroke.

Seeing this, the third werewolf warrior turned to flee, but Victor blocked his path.

"Traitors of the Shadow Brotherhood," Victor''s voice was icy. "You disgrace werewolf honor."

"You... you are..." The werewolf warrior seemed to recognize Victor, fear in his eyes. "Shadowfang! You''re still alive!"

Victor didn''t answer. His claws pierced the opponent''s heart.

Seeing the situation turning against him, the Eastern Roman commander ordered a retreat. But John wouldn''t give him the chance. The Silver Knights charged, routing the Eastern Roman army.

After the battle, only corpses and the smell of blood remained on the battlefield. Victor stood by the werewolf warrior''s corpse, looking up at the full moon in the sky. Moonlight shone on him, his black fur glowing faintly.

Arthur walked to his side. "Shadowfang... is that your name?"

Victor turned, his golden eyes behind the mask looking at Arthur. "That''s a name from the past," he said quietly. "Now, I''m just Victor."

But Arthur knew this mysterious werewolf warrior must have untold stories behind him. And he himself was beginning to feel something awakening within—whenever he was near Victor, that strange warmth grew stronger.

John approached, his silver sword still dripping blood. "Victor, your strength is indeed formidable. But I also saw you holding back in battle. Why?"

Victor looked into the distance. "Everyone has a past they''d rather not remember, Silver Knight. My past... let it stay in the past."

Under the moonlight, three men stood on the battlefield, each carrying secrets and missions. And the gears of fate had begun to turn.