"Hey, Sam, what are you up to?" Typically, soldiers refrained from speaking during work, but when a fellow soldier caught sight of Sam spying on someone, he couldn't help but call him out.

"Shh! Take a look!" Sam hushed him.

"Eh? What's Jon up to? Is he sniffing something? What's that white thing? Panties? Is he as much of a pervert as you?" The man without a name cringed at the sight.

"Haha. No, Jon's carrying a handkerchief soaked in Karen's lilac perfume. They say lilac signifies forgotten love and nostalgia, you know, so..." Sam remarked with a pensive expression. "Wait, did you just call me a pervert?" He realized it a moment later.

"Oh, when did I? How could I do that? Tsk, tsk." The man reacted dramatically and smoothly changed the subject as if it were a daily routine. "Well, let's get back; I have a shift change after this. Oh, by the way, did you hear the Lord is here again?"

"Again? Wasn't he here just yesterday?" Sam was surprised by the news. Chatting together, they both made their way to their tent.

As they passed by other tents, their murmurs filled the camp, eventually leading to a discussion about a single subject: the impending beast raid.

"So, the beast raid is going to be that serious, huh? Argh! I should've at least sent my wife to town; she's pregnant! I can't risk her life." The mood in the camp grew somber as time passed, and other soldiers joined the conversation. 

As time passed, the conversations in the camp shifted from worry about their families and futures to a lively debate. While some still held concerns, no one dared to disrespect the Lord.

"I think otherwise! If the Lord is taking this so seriously, it might become a lot easier than we think!" Someone argued.

"No, think about this. What if the Lord's plan involves all of us doing something on his behalf? Is he using us as bait?"

"Don't be foolish. Won't our village become famous after we end this beast raid? I think the Lord has something bigger planned than what we can imagine." While some criticized the Lord, others favored him; however, no one dared to defy his will.

After all, he was the savior of their village. If this beast raid was something Mordret couldn't handle, they were as good as dead anyway.

"But, why hasn't the viscount's army arrived yet?" Another question that shook their confidence was the delay in the viscount's army's arrival.

The involvement of the Viscount's army had a more significant impact than Mordret's strength alone. Without their presence, many would've left the village without even waiting for Mordret's response or the chieftess's assurance.

No matter how hard they thought, none had answers to any of the questions. "Did anyone see who was with the Lord today?" someone tried to change the subject.

"I saw the Lord with his servant today."

"Oh, then—"

"Heh? Can she even fight? She's more like a kid, both in brain and body. Her chest is smaller than buns made by bakery grandma." Interrupting the conversation was the man declared as foul-mouthed by nearly everyone in the village. His vulgar remarks and actions earned him nothing but death stares.

"Sam, fucker, can't you just once keep that stupid mouth of yours shut?! Of course, she can fight! In fact, Jon barely survived her daggers the last time! And don't speak ill of her beauty!" Sam's peculiar flaw made his remarks and unhinged questions always leave everyone speechless. 

However, his actions crossed a line when he called out to Mordret's servant and disrespected her appearance, an offense considered a crime in their community.

"At least don't say such things in front of the mirror—" Just before someone warned him not to jinx it ever again, something happened. People hurriedly stared at the mirror in the tent, silently praying not to let the Lord hear their conversation. However, as if on cue, two silhouettes entered the tent.

"Did the cat get your tongue, Samuel?" Eliza sneered, her sharp gaze tearing Sam’s entire self.

"My Lord?! And his servant, Miss. Eliza?! I didn't mean it that way!" Sam was baffled to no end as his gaze met Eliza's chilling stare.

What happened thereafter, was simply a brutality.

…[Previously, inside the camp.]...

‘Disappointing, disappointing, utterly disappointing!’ Mordret was beyond furious. His eyes were red from anger.

‘Viscount... you damn bastard!’ Although he didn't show it, Mordret was seething with rage, teetering on the edge of no return. He clenched his jaw to prevent any unnecessary words from escaping, compressing his tumultuous emotions deep within.

The only relief he had was the effectiveness of his passive <Calm>. However, today was too much for even the skill to handle.

"My lord, please calm down," Eliza noticed the change in Mordret’s expression and patted his back. Even the mischievous servant had a serene expression as she witnessed everything.

"Haah… All of these weapons... They're all flawed." Mordret sighed in defeat. Just when he had a plan to use the soldiers to fight the beast raid, he realized how flawed the weapons were.

Some spears he checked were fragile, while others had uneven weight distribution. Some swords were blunt, while others wiggled like mere plastic toys. The arrows felt as substantial as sticks of metal, fragile enough to shatter with a mere sneeze.

‘This rubbish can't even slice wood; how can it slice through the beasts' bodies?’ Mordret took deep breaths as he tried to calm his nerves.

Mordret's frustration welled up as he muttered, "No wonder he died because his arrows lied to him." In an attempt to quell his anger, Mordret forcefully snapped a spear in half, making Eliza gasp in horror.

"Even graphite has more strength than this garbage," he muttered aloud as he threw the spear aside. What perplexed him, however, was why no one had noticed these issues before.

‘Can someone's ability damage the quality of a weapon and conceal it until it's explicitly sought after? Were these flaws introduced after the weapons were delivered, or were they present from the start?’ Mordret pondered, utterly flabbergasted. 

With the existence of abilities capable of achieving the unbelievable, finding the culprits seemed impossible. Especially, when stuck in a deadlock.

"All of this... It feels like a concerted effort against Mordret, as if they're determined to see him dead at any cost," Zephyr unwittingly voiced his thoughts.

Eliza froze upon hearing Mordret's words, her mind raced with the notion that someone might be plotting against her lord. ‘I should look into it.’ Eliza’s fists trembled as her blood boiled. 

Regrettably, Mordret was lost in contemplation, and had he not been, he might have perceived the eerie quiver of the shadows within the tent, as if they were gripped by terror.

"Ellie, is there anyone who possesses better knowledge about the weapons in the camp?" Mordret inquired, fully aware that time was of the essence.

Despite the relatively small size of the village, with only about two thousand inhabitants, it was still a significant number to investigate thoroughly.

"My lord, Chieftess Maria is well-versed in all transactions related to the camp. Has she not arrived yet? Since I only serve my lord, I do not keep any knowledge regarding villagers’ activities." Eliza answered while massaging Mordret’s shoulder in an attempt to divert his attention slightly. Her fragrance brought calm to Mordret’s soul for a while.

Mordret relished the massage for a brief moment but eventually disengaged. After scouring for Maria for some time, he let out a sigh of frustration.

"I have no idea. She had promised to provide me with information about the blacksmith responsible for these weapons, but it seems she has forgotten," Mordret replied absentmindedly, having entered a tent filled with chattering soldiers without even realizing it.

"Ah, my Lord?!" The soldiers were taken aback by his presence, but they greeted him respectfully.

"Hmm..." Mordret disregarded the commotion and Eliza's comments as he surveyed the crowd, ultimately singling out the face he recognized the most, Sam. "I would like to have a word with you."

Words seemed to stick in Sam's throat as he realized, 'I'm in deep trouble now,' upon being ordered to follow Mordret.

…

"What can I assist you with, my lord?" Sam inquired, trying to maintain a polite demeanor despite his anxiety.

"So...?" Mordret prodded, keeping his composure while conversing with Sam. While Zephyr recalled Sam, it was now his turn to excel as an actor and assume the role of the Lord.

"Samuel, my Lord. I am Samuel. But the villagers call me Sam," Sam stammered, standing at attention.

"So, Mr. Samuel, do you know who delivered the last batch of weapons?" Mordret inquired.

"It was the Viscount's escorts, my lord," Sam promptly replied.

"Was this individual the usual delivery person?" Mordret inquired directly, his mind racing through various possibilities. While he couldn't fully trust Sam, he hoped to glean some clues.

"Is there an issue, my lord?" Sam swallowed hard, his fear palpable as he attempted to gauge Mordret's intentions.

"My Lord is the one asking questions here, Samuel. Were it not for your peculiar flaw, I might have considered that slip of the tongue a crime," Eliza interjected, her daggers swirling as she locked eyes with Sam.

'She can definitely handle herself in a fight, hieek!' Sam thought, realizing he was in no position to challenge her.

Mordret had no intention of going easy on the villagers, so he allowed Eliza to act as she saw fit. To strategize for the impending beast raid, he needed more information about the mysterious enemies.

'The possibility of betrayal looms large. Although the weapons aren't entirely useless, I can't entrust them to the frontline soldiers. Their lives may be more valuable than their deaths. As long as they serve the purpose of repelling the initial beast assault, I can unleash a devastating plan,' Mordret contemplated, his gaze fixated on the trembling Samuel.

"No specific individual from the Viscount's side delivers goods and weapons, my lord. We are the ones who choose the vendor," Sam nervously explained.

"Typically, it's the chieftess who handles the procurement of goods such as weaponry and food. However, this time, I was tasked with procuring the weapons from the county. What you see here is the stock we received, my lord," Samuel quickly provided an explanation.

Mordret, however, raised an eyebrow at his words. 'Is he aware of the defective weapons? Why did he not take action?' Mordret's gaze turned colder as he observed Sam.

"Then, how would you describe the quality of these weapons?" Mordret controlled his anger and hurled an arrow in Sam's direction, which Sam effortlessly caught.

"Hmm... I'm not sure what the issue might be... But with a bit of sharpening here and there, a curved stick instead of a straight one, and some flint... This arrow could have been considered a national masterpiece, my lord. Unfortunately, it fell short due to budget constraints," Samuel commented with a sarcastic tone.

'This scoundrel... dares to taunt my lord?' Eliza's lips twitched with irritation.

“I-I did not mean it that way, my lord!” Sam knelt immediately. “This arrow is ridiculous, and its quality is shittier than an animal's tooth! However!” Sam bowed repeatedly as he continued, “This is how bestial weaponry is created, my lord!” The room fell silent at Sam's words.

‘Bestial Weaponry?’ Literal question marks seemed to hover over Mordret's face. ‘Why was there no mention of this before?’

“Explain,” Mordret's deep voice prompted Sam, who appeared increasingly anxious.

“Yes, my lord!” Sam stood up and pointed at the dagger to clarify. “These cracks, well, they aren’t exactly cracks, my lord. They are gaps designed to collect essence and then explode upon breaking.” Sam elaborated.

“Bestial Weaponry is designed to surpass regular weaponry, especially since beasts attack in hordes. Killing one beast at a time, although effective, allows others to breach the defense line. However, if these weapons detonate upon impact, they can damage multiple beasts simultaneously.” Sam paused, awaiting Mordret’s response.

“Continue. I’ll ask questions once you've finished explaining,” Mordret instructed.

“Yes, my lord. Since we villagers are not well-versed in combat, our attack efficiency is low. However, these weapons compensate for that. Even if we miss the target, we can still slow down the horde, allowing those with better skills to eliminate them. That's why, despite their flawed appearance, these weapons are effective.”

“Nevertheless, I must admit that the quality seems different from what I was shown earlier. Have they rusted or something?” Sam casually loaded an arrow onto his bow and pulled the string to check the angles. ‘Why does this feel a little different?’ He pondered internally.

“Why wasn't I informed about this? Were you aware, Eliza?” Mordret inquired.

“No, my lord. This type of weaponry is entirely unfamiliar to me. I have never heard of the county producing such items,” Eliza confirmed, sharing Mordret's doubts.

“Mr. Samuel, are you certain that these weapons function as described? According to the records, this type of armament has never been used in previous beast raids.”

“Indeed, my lord, it's unheard of because a new blacksmith was selling them. As I mentioned earlier, I acquired these weapons at a very reasonable price. I consulted with the chieftess before purchasing, and she approved of the acquisition as well,” Sam responded.

“A new blacksmith? Why didn't you inform me of this earlier? I guess, I know now why these weapons did not function last night.” Mordret's smile carried a chilling edge. “Mr. Samuel, I am genuinely curious now. Can you demonstrate how they work?” He was eager to witness the weapons in action. VERY eager, to be precise.

“Certainly, my lord! I can demonstrate how they function for you.” Sam's excitement was palpable, akin to a child eager to show off new toys to their parents.

…

[Outside the Camp.]

Sam was renowned as one of the finest archers in the Village. Although foul-mouthed, he had a reputation. Since Mordret had no intention of attracting an audience, Sam led them to a secluded location with five arrows and a dagger.

‘Although the statistics for this sample space make no sense at all, I think five arrows is all I can afford to spend right now. At least enough to check whether his arrows lied to him or not.’ There was no other option. If these weapons truly operated as Sam had described, wasting them was not an option. ‘I hope this works, otherwise…’ 

Sam felt a chill run down his spine as he felt mortal danger for some unknown reason.