The first tremors came not from the earth, but from the hearts of the people.
A quiet morning over Thelara's shimmering walls was shattered as black smoke began to roll over the horizon. The sun, once brilliant, was smothered by an unnatural fog. Villagers looked to the skies in dread. The day that had once promised peace now whispered only ruin.
The enemy had arrived.
From afar, flags flared like curses in the wind. The dragon insignia of Hebre and the eagle seal of Fenrir marched side by side—an unnatural alliance of greed and hatred. At their front, seven monstrous figures—cloaked in black armor etched with glowing glyphs—stood unmoving. Behind them, a sea of soldiers, fifty thousand strong, surged forward like a tidal wave of war.
The Kingdom of Fenrir lay in the northwest, carved from brutal winters and harsher traditions. Its architecture was hewn from black stone and steel, with towering spires that pierced the clouds. At its heart stood the Grand Cathedral of Ymir, its stained-glass windows casting blood-red hues onto those who entered. Deep beneath it, within a chamber encircled by dragon bone pillars, the kings and warlords of Fenrir gathered.
King Scarfin sat at the head of a massive Viking-style obsidian table, fingers laced, a devil's smile on his face. To his right, the King of Hebre, robed in storm-grey furs, nodded silently. Around them sat nobles, generals, and monsters alike.
At the far end, a family cloaked in crimson silence watched—The Warsaw Bloodline, legendary brawlers and soulforged mages. Od Warsaw, head of the house, spoke with calm malice: "We'll break Thelara. But the girl—Scarlet—will be ours. Her blood is ours."
Scarfin only grinned.
"Take her. Just leave me the throne."
In Thelara, panic and courage clashed like thunder.
The first wave struck at dawn. Magical artillery and infernal beasts crashed through the outer barriers. Defensive towers exploded into flame.
Gerren, leading the western guard, shouted over the roar of battle, "Hold the gates! No matter the cost!"
He never saw the arrow that tore through his shoulder. He collapsed, clutching the bloody shaft, his last thoughts before blacking out were of a girl he hadn't yet confessed to.
In the inner sanctum, Mira interrogated a captured noble, face bloodied, voice steady.
"You betrayed your people. Why?"
Tears streamed down the man's face. "You people—your magic—your peace—it was never meant to last! I did what I had to!"
She slammed the orb of truth on the table. It glowed blue—he lied.
Civilians were evacuated. Priests prayed. Children wept. The central cathedral of Thelara became a shelter, its white walls trembling under the pressure of nearby detonations.
"We dreamed of peace… but the world never lets us dream too long," whispered an old woman, watching the stained-glass windows shatter.
Kael, leading an aerial squadron, saw a beast rise from the fog. Twenty feet tall, cloaked in shadows and stitched with dead souls. "What in the seven stars is that?"
It crashed into Thelara's east tower.
In the heart of the city, Scarlet stood alone. The staff of Bloodtear trembled in her grip.
Her breath was uneven.
She stepped forward, her crimson cloak unfurling like wings. Her voice echoed:
"You threaten my people… you threaten me."
[System: Druidic Awakening Triggered]
Magic exploded outward in a red wave. Air ignited. Stone liquefied.
But then—
She collapsed into Nova's arms.
"I'm fine… I just… heard them cry."
As Thelara's forces regrouped, whispers moved through the streets. "She is pregnant," some said. Others denied it. But all felt the shift.
Inside the dome of Azur, the trained warriors emerged like demons in silver flame.
Mages with no-incantation casting obliterated anti-magic beasts. Healers, now masters of regenerative acceleration, healed injuries before blood even dripped. Archers loosed arrows that split skies, tracking targets even behind cover. Brawlers launched themselves into enemy airships with cannon-like fists.
But it wasn't enough.
More enemies spilled in. The sky darkened. Fires rose.
A mother sobbed in the cathedral as her child slipped from her arms—saved only by a healing burst from Mira.
Nova stood at the top of the inner gate.
His armor was cracked. His eyes glowed.
"Scarlet… fall back."
She shook her head, blood trailing her lips.
"With you."
Suddenly, the ground shook.
[System Alert: Starfall Tower Activation - Pending Manual Trigger]
Nova whispered, "It's time."
Scarlet nodded.
Mira ran through the storm, climbing the tower under fire.
"Go!" Nova shouted. "We'll hold the gate!"
From the west hill, King John's banner appeared—the Lion of Martha.
Behind him, allies. Four cities. Ten thousand fresh troops.
"Nova," John's voice boomed, "you are not alone."
But still…
The enemy pressed harder.
Blood filled the rivers. Fire painted the skies.
And above it all, the final two generals of Fenrir stepped forward. One wielded a blade of time. The other, a crown of shadows.
Nova drew his bow.
Scarlet stood beside him.
"Thelara will not fall today."
But even he…
Wasn't sure.
To Be Continued…