Chapter 291 - 58: Legend! Legend! (6)

Gradually, the gazes of those nearby shifted from the battlefield to Murphy, who stood leaning on his sword.

At first, it was just a few soldiers nearby. They stared at Murphy’s back, clad in dark blue and stained with soot and splatters of blood. Then they looked at the colossal, cooling corpse of the Giant Earth Rock Worm at his feet. The look in their eyes changed from dazed to shocked, then from shocked to a gratitude that bordered on awe.

"...It was him... He killed that monster..."

A soldier with a broken arm, supported by his comrade, murmured, his voice hoarse.

"He saved us... He saved the tower..." Another young soldier, his face smeared with blood and his eyes red, suddenly slammed a fist against his battered Chest Armor. It made a dull thud. He then bowed his head slightly in Murphy’s direction.

The gesture was like a signal. All around, more and more soldiers who had survived the ordeal—be they Temple Knights, Warriors of the Peric Clan, or the private guards of other nobles—silently turned their gazes to Murphy. Some placed a hand on their chest, while others simply nodded in acknowledgment.

Some knew who this suddenly-appeared Legendary Knight was, while others did not. But they all knew one thing: he was the one who had turned the tide of a battle they were doomed to lose.

Just then, the sound of heavy footsteps echoed from the Central Tower’s platform.

Quentin descended the damaged stairs, stumbling slightly.

His silver-white Heavy Armor seemed unbearably heavy, each step appearing to drain all his strength, yet he forced himself to keep his spine straight.

Three Archbishops followed behind him. Supported by soldiers, they picked their way across the ravaged battlefield, heading in Murphy’s direction.

Stopping a few paces from Murphy, Quentin took a deep breath. Then, slowly and with immense solemnity, he performed a standard Knight’s salute.

"Lord Melfield," Quentin’s voice was terribly hoarse, yet perfectly clear. The battle-honed sharpness in his blue eyes had faded, replaced by sincere respect and gratitude. "Please accept my thanks—the thanks of Quentin Thorn and of all who survived here. Had it not been for your blade today, the central defensive line of Blackstone Fortress would have already collapsed. You not only saved countless lives but also defended the very heart of our line. The Templar Order and the Church Court will forever remember this debt."

The white-haired Archbishop also stepped forward. Though his face was still pale and his breathing weak, he performed the ritual gesture befitting his high rank within the Church Court—a crescent moon embracing a star. "In the name of Oriane, I thank you for your aid, Lord Melfield. Your strength and courage are a torch in the darkness. May the Radiance of Truth forever bless you."

The other two Archbishops also managed to offer a salute, their eyes filled with the same post-battle relief and profound gratitude.

Murphy gave a slight nod, accepting their gratitude. His voice was calm. "It was merely my duty. All of you have fought valiantly and fulfilled your mission."

Murphy was about to say more when a slight commotion rippled through the crowd of soldiers gathered behind and to their side. The soldiers automatically parted, clearing a path.

A petite figure emerged from the parted crowd, holding up the hem of her slightly soiled dress as she hurried forward.

It was Elizabeth.

Her small face was flushed from running, and a trace of fear still lingered in her expression. The hem of her magnificent gown was stained with dust and a few dark red splatters, leaving her looking rather disheveled.

The Female Knight, Alison, followed close behind, her hand never leaving the hilt of her sword as she scanned their surroundings. Though the fighting had stopped, she didn’t dare to relax for even a moment.

Upon seeing Murphy and confirming his presence, the tension deep within her eyes finally eased.

Elizabeth’s gaze cut through the crowd, instantly locking onto Murphy.

She hurried to his side and tilted her small face up to look at him. His reflection was captured in her dark eyes, which were filled with unconcealed worry and a hint of relief.

She seemed completely oblivious to Quentin and the three Archbishops who were solemnly offering their thanks nearby. Or rather, in that moment, her attention was focused solely on Murphy.

"Governor of Melfield!" Her voice, though possessing a young girl’s characteristic clarity, trembled slightly with anxiety and haste. "Are... are you all right? Are you injured?"

Her gaze swept urgently over his body, as if searching for any sign of injury.

Murphy looked at her, his brow twitching almost imperceptibly.

His gaze first fell upon the panting Elizabeth and the dust-covered Alison behind her—they had clearly come in a hurry. Then, his eyes swept over the surrounding battlefield, which had not yet fallen silent, as sporadic clashes could still be heard in the distance. Finally, his gaze returned to Elizabeth’s small, worried face.

’For Elizabeth to be here now... it means she likely heard the news about the Central Tower while she was on her way back to the Inner Castle from the eastern ridge. She probably hadn’t even reached the safe zone before she turned back or came straight here, without waiting for the battle to end and the dust to settle.’

"I’m unharmed," Murphy’s voice was as flat as ever, betraying no emotion. "Weren’t you supposed to withdraw to the safety of the Inner Castle with Alison? Why are you here?"

His gaze was steady as he looked at her. "This is still a battlefield."

The urgent concern on Elizabeth’s face froze for an instant, replaced by a flicker of panic.

She hadn’t seemed to expect Murphy would question her so directly, especially in front of Quentin and the Archbishops.

Her eyes darted about for a moment, and her fingers unconsciously twisted the soiled hem of her dress. She stammered, "I... I was going back... but... well... I heard... I heard about what was happening at the Central Tower..."