Chapter 26: Wounds After the Battle
The leaves that were once fresh and green were now covered in dust and blood, yellowing and falling beneath tired footsteps.The morning air felt heavy, as if carrying the weight of all the suffering we had just endured.The battlefield, which had once echoed with the sounds of clashing swords and cries, was now silent—only the wind and the rustling of leaves could be heard.
I sat at the edge of the ruins of a small fortress where a fierce battle had taken place, gazing far into the horizon that was beginning to brighten with the dawn's light.The pain in my body wasn't just from physical wounds, but also from the burden that weighed on my heart.
Kaelen was gone.His departure left a deep void within my soul.He was a friend I once considered a brother, now a reminder that this war was not merely a clash of weapons, but a collision of choices and fate.
Around me, the soldiers began clearing the rubble and burying the fallen.I saw Lyra standing among them, her face weary but still steadfast.She approached and sat beside me without a word, her presence alone offering warmth.
"We have to rise," she said finally, her voice soft but full of determination."This world still needs us. But I know this is not the time to forget the wounds we carry."
I nodded slowly."We fight not only to survive but also to rebuild. But first, we must heal ourselves."
The days that followed were marked by a strange silence.Our camp became a gathering place for survivors trying to recover, supporting each other amid the remnants of destruction.Yet the shadow of new threats never truly disappeared.
From scattered reports, the enemy who once seemed defeated had only retreated temporarily, waiting for the right moment to strike again.Moreover, shadowy factions had begun moving, trying to exploit the power vacuum left behind.
I walked through the camp, seeing faces worn with fatigue but still hopeful.Behind wounds and tears, there was a spirit still burning—a small flame that would become a source of strength.
In a small tent, I met an old man of the Elf race, who looked at me with wise eyes."You are our hope, Roky," he said softly."But remember, hope must also be guarded with a strong heart and a clear mind."
I knew his words were true.Our journey was not over; perhaps it had only just begun at the hardest point.
Night fell, and I sat outside the tent, watching the stars begin to appear.There was a calming peace, but also a biting silence.
In my heart, I promised myself that I would not let this sacrifice be in vain.I must be more than just a fighter—I must become a leader who can bring this world out of darkness.
Tomorrow, I will begin crafting a new plan.Together with Lyra and our allies, we will face challenges far greater than before.
Because in a world full of shadows, only those who can ignite the flame of hope will endure.
Chapter 27 – A New Shadow Threatens
Rain fell gently over the camp. Not the raging storm of war, but a soft drizzle—almost as if the sky itself mourned the shattered world. Among torn tents and ground scarred by battle, new footsteps began to carve a path. But it wasn't only friends walking through the morning mist. Something... or someone... was lurking in the distance.
I stood beneath a dead tree, staring at the nearly extinguished campfire. The small embers flickered like the remnants of a spirit not yet snuffed out. The wound on my shoulder was bandaged, but my body was far from healed. Worse still—my soul had yet to stop asking: who would come next?
"Roky." Lyra's voice broke my reverie. She approached, her red hair loosely tied, her eyes sharp as always—but something was different that morning: anxiety.
"There's something strange to the west," she said. "The guards spotted movement in the forest. But it's not like the usual scouting parties. They... are too organized. Too silent."
I raised an eyebrow. "Whoever they are, they're not part of the allied races."
Lyra nodded slowly. "And worse, no traces. No scent. No footprints. As if they are shadows dancing among the leaves."
I gripped the hilt of my sword hanging at my waist. "It's time we investigate."
We moved swiftly. I, Lyra, Tarell—a Beorc soldier we recently trusted—and two elf scouts followed a narrow path toward the western edge of Nairil forest—a neutral zone once used for barter and diplomacy before the world burned.
The sky hung low and gray, and the leaves trembled—not from wind, but something unseen.
Tarell whispered as he approached, "I'm from the west. But even I've never heard of a group this efficient. They don't just hide their tracks—they erase their presence."
"Magic?" I asked.
"Maybe. Or something older than that."
We stopped at a large moss-covered rock crevice. Nimiel, one of the elves, signaled us to crouch. I obeyed. As our eyes pierced through the underbrush—I froze.
About thirty meters below, standing in a circle around a small stone altar, was a group cloaked in black. They didn't look like demons, humans, elves, or any race we knew. Tall and thin, their skin was pale gray and looked like burnt paper at the edges. Their eyes—glowing red like embers—never blinked.
They stood around the altar. Floating above it was an object—a black crystal pulsing slowly. Each pulse made the ground tremble faintly, as if the world itself feared its presence.
Lyra whispered, "That... that's not an artifact of our world."
"No," I said. "And they... are not just shadows. They are summoners. Destroyers of the foundations of reality."
One of the creatures suddenly turned toward us. Instantly, the entire group vanished into a black mist that burst from the ground—silent, without a trace.
We ran down, trying to follow, but found only an empty altar. The black crystal was gone, but its cold aura lingered.
Nimiel touched the stone and screamed. His hand was burned by a sudden black ice, and we had to pull him back before the poisonous energy spread.
That night in camp was filled with whispers. Reports about the "Faceless" — the new name for the creatures we saw — came from all directions: north, east, even near the last standing human fortress.
They did not attack.
Not yet.
They appeared, performed rituals, then vanished.
As if preparing for something.
I sat with Lyra, Tarell, and Senn—a representative of the Dwarvyn race who had just arrived with bad news.
"They possess corpses," Senn said, his voice heavy. "We found dozens of bodies rising. They spoke in a language we couldn't understand, but one word was repeated: 'Vhorduun.'"
I closed my eyes. Vhorduun. The name was familiar. In ancient ruins outside any known territory, legends told of an ancient being sleeping in the earth's core. This creature, called Vhorduun—the Devourer of Light—was said not only to kill but to consume the essence of living beings, even to twist time and reality itself.
"If they're trying to awaken Vhorduun," I whispered, "everything we've fought for will be lost."
Lyra clenched her jaw. "We can't wait for them to advance further. We must find out who they are, where they come from, and how to stop them."
I stared at the roaring fire in our meeting.
For the first time since the great battle against Kaelen, I felt a new terror—not from a visible enemy, but from a threat creeping in the shadows.
An enemy not just bent on destroying the world.But one trying to erase it from existence.
Chapter 28 – An Unexpected Ally
The wind carried strange whispers that morning. The hills to the east were shrouded in an unnatural greenish mist, and the ground seemed to groan under every step. The world felt older, quieter... and more afraid.
We set up an emergency camp near the border of the former dragon realm—a barren, rocky land scarred by lava flows and the ruins of ancient temples. The dragon race had long vanished from history; many believed they were wiped out in the great war three centuries ago. Yet since the appearance of the Faceless and the black crystal artifact, every myth suddenly seemed possible.
"Look at this," Lyra said, handing me a fragment of bone found by the scouts. It was large, curved, and etched with glowing green cracks. "This isn't an ordinary bone."
"There's a trace of magic in it," Tarell added as he examined it. "But this... is ancient magic. Nothing I've ever seen before."
I stared silently. In this world, every clue was a double-edged sword. It could be hope... or a curse.
—
That day, we planned to move toward the ruins of Drak-Zhar's temple—a place once believed to be the spiritual gateway of the dragons. According to old records, if any place held answers about ancient powers, it was there.
The journey took two days through rocky valleys. We avoided main paths to steer clear of the Faceless, now known as the Shadow-Dark. Since the incident in Nairil forest, their appearances had become more frequent. But they weren't attacking; they were creating "rifts in reality"—strange energy vortices swallowing parts of nature, erasing them as if they never existed.
When we arrived at Drak-Zhar, the sky was dark and the air still. Stone pillars loomed like monster's teeth clawing the sky. Amidst the ruins lay the body of a great creature—a dragon, or what was left of one.
Its bones still shimmered faintly. Scars protruded like the long, unfinished history of war.
"I thought dragons were extinct," Lyra murmured.
"So did I," I replied. "But apparently... not all of them."
Suddenly the ground trembled. A low growl echoed from behind the ruins. We readied our swords and drew bows. But no enemy appeared.
Instead, a strange being stood before us, half-human, half-dragon. Tall, covered in thin copper-green scales, with glowing golden eyes. Torn wings hung from its back, and one horn was broken.
"Don't move!" Tarell shouted, but I raised a hand to stop him.
The creature did not attack. It merely looked at us... then spoke.
"Who... are you?" its voice was hoarse, as if awakening from a long slumber.
"I'm Roky," I answered softly. "We seek answers... and allies."
It narrowed its eyes. "You are not from the Shadow-Dark."
"No."
It sighed. "Good. Then my awakening is not in vain."
—
Its name was Varenn, a Drakari—direct descendants of the ancient dragon race, able to shift into humanoid form. Not a full dragon, but a surviving mixed lineage after their kind was destroyed. It had slept over two centuries beneath the temple ruins to guard something—an ancient relic called the Heart of Abyss, an artifact believed to lock dimensional portals.
"You call them Shadow-Dark," Varenn said, sitting on a flat stone. "But in our tongue, they are Ril'thar'Nekh—First Shadows. They are not of this world. They came through a reality tear when the first great war shattered the boundary between magic and the real."
"And they want to open the portal again?" I asked.
Varenn nodded. "They seek to awaken Vhorduun, their master, sleeping in the dark. If they succeed... the world will not just die. It will be forgotten. Erased. No one will know we ever lived."
Silence hung heavy. No one spoke.
Then Lyra said, "You said you guard the Heart of Abyss. Where is this artifact now?"
Varenn slowly stood. "Follow me."
—
We were led to a basement beneath the temple, walls carved with dragons burning shadows. In the center stood a giant bronze altar, and on it... rested a deep red crystal, pulsing softly like a sleeping heart.
"This is it," Varenn said. "But don't be mistaken. To wield it, one must pay a price."
I stared at him sharply. "What price?"
"One of you... must bind your soul to this Heart. Become the New Guardian. Bear the pain of a world that will never rest."
—
That night we returned to camp, bringing news and Varenn with us. Some of our forces were wary of his presence. Some even saw him as an enemy. But as darkness slowly devoured the world, such rare allies were not just hope—they were the only reason we could still dream of tomorrow.
That night, I sat alone, staring at the sealed Heart of Abyss. I knew, sooner or later, I might be the one who must pay the price. But for now... the world could survive one more night.
Chapter 29 – A Deeper Betrayal
The rain fell that night. Not ordinary rain—but a cold, biting rain that gnawed like bitter memories. The campfire in the center of the tent hissed each time a drop fell on the embers, creating a faint symphony like a ghostly whisper.
I stood at the edge of the camp, staring at the faint silhouette of the mountains. The Abyss Heart pulsed softly inside the metal box engraved with magical seals, kept in the middle of the camp. But I knew, even though it was hidden, many eyes coveted it. Power breeds greed. And greed always gives birth to traitors.
"I smell something rotten among our ranks," Lyra said softly, appearing beside me. Her eyes were dark, serious. "Someone sent a magic signal north last night. Maybe a spy. Maybe a traitor."
I turned to her. "Are you sure it's from within?"
"I wouldn't say if I had doubts."
Silence. Then I nodded.
"From tonight, we watch everyone," I said. "Don't tell anyone except Tarell and Varenn."
Our investigation moved quietly. We couldn't act rashly, couldn't interrogate randomly. Enemies don't always wear scars or evil faces. Sometimes they smile. Sometimes they toast with us.
And sometimes... they are the ones you saved from death.
On the third night, we caught a scout wearing our own uniform. He tried to leave the camp at dawn, carrying a small scroll with strange symbols and a map of our positions. But what truly sickened me... was the small symbol in the corner of the map. An inverted eye— the emblem of the Third Eye Cult.
A secret organization rumored to be the real hand of the Shadow-Dark in this world.
"Who sent you?" I asked, keeping my voice cold. The man said nothing. Only looked at me with a small smile and empty eyes. Not because he was strong. But because he was already detached from this world.
I gave the signal.
Tarell gagged his mouth and dragged him away.
The next day, the camp was tenser than ever. Whispers. Tension creeping between the tents. And by noon, more bad news arrived.
One of the magic guards at the northern post—Arien—was missing. Only bloodstains and shattered communication crystals were found.
"I saw him last night," Lyra said. "He was talking to someone... but I don't know who."
Suspicion sharpened. I gathered some names. People who oddly always appeared near important incidents. But only one name made my stomach twist: Kael.
Kael was one of the five survivors from the Alther Mountain village that I had saved from the first Shadow-Dark attack. He was a smart young man, quiet, always obedient. But... too perfect. Never questioned. Never angry. Never doubtful. And most suspiciously—he always knew the enemy's position faster than anyone else.
That night, I decided to confront him.
I found him at the edge of the camp. He was sharpening his sword. His voice echoed between the rain's patter and the silent wind.
"Kael," I called.
He looked up. "Commander?"
"I want to talk."
Kael stared at me for a moment, then nodded. We walked a little away, to a small slope where dead trees stood in rows like old soldiers.
"There's a traitor among us," I said quietly. "And I think... you know who."
He didn't answer immediately. But his left hand tensed. Slightly, barely noticeable.
"What do you mean?" His voice was flat.
"Kael... don't be stupid," I whispered. "I know you sent the signal. I know you killed Arien."
He chuckled. "So that's your accusation?"
I stared at him long. "Not an accusation. I'm just waiting for you to confess."
And then, his expression changed.
The mask fell. The face that had always been calm... turned cold, merciless. Kael's eyes glowed faintly with a dark aura. Not ordinary magic. This was... Shadow-Dark magic.
"Too bad, Roky," he said. "You should have stayed a village boy afraid of the sky."
He jumped back, and the ground beneath him cracked. Black smoke rose from below, and from the shadows emerged two hooded figures with eyeless faces.
"Shadow-Dark!" I shouted, drawing my sword.
Lyra and Tarell appeared like lightning, followed by the guard squad. A small battle erupted in the dead forest. The clash of swords and magic collided with the howl of the wind. But the heaviest fight... was mine.
Kael wielded unstable magic, shadows coiling his arms, transforming them into sharp claws. He moved swiftly, as if aided by a power older than this world.
"You won't win!" I shouted.
Kael smiled cruelly. "I don't need to win. I just need to make you lose time."
That's when I realized. This wasn't just sabotage. It was... a delay. A distraction.
"What are you doing... Kael?!" I yelled, slashing toward him.
He bounced back, blood dripping from his arm. But he still laughed.
"It's too late. The Abyss Heart... is no longer yours."
My blood ran cold.
I turned and ran with all my might back to camp.
—
When I arrived, it was already too late.
The storage tent was destroyed. Four guards dead. The magical seal burned. And the metal box... empty.
The Abyss Heart was stolen.
We managed to restrain Kael—though he ultimately killed himself with magic that burned his body from within. But the damage was done. The only key to close the rift between realities... had fallen into enemy hands.
That night, there was no sleep.
No victory.
Only fresh wounds... and guilt rotting in the chest.
"This... is not the end," I whispered.
"No," Lyra answered. "This is just the beginning of hell itself."
Chapter 30 – New Power and Training
The autumn wind carried a cold mist that blanketed the valley where we camped temporarily. After losing the Abyss Heart, we could no longer return to the front lines. We lost more than just an artifact—we lost direction, and perhaps hope itself.
But surrender was not an option.
"We will rebuild the core of our strength," I told those who remained. "If the enemy steals our power, we will forge a new one."
One name rose as the answer: the Ancient Light Temple on Mount Raemir—a place said to hold the legacy of ancient magic from the First Age. Few believed the place still existed, let alone possessed real power. But we had no other choice.
The Journey to Mount Raemir
We set off in silence. Only ten of us were strong and trusted enough to join. The rest stayed at camp, preparing defenses. Mount Raemir loomed like a giant shadow in the distance. For three days we climbed, battling weather, rocky slopes, and strange whispers at night. Rumor had it the place was guarded by the spirits of Light Guardians who were no longer fully sane.
But on the fourth day, as the mist began to thin, we found it.
The old temple was hidden behind a waterfall that split the rocks. Ancient carvings and broken pillars greeted us like the hands of past spirits. And inside... a light pulsed like the heartbeat of the world.
Encounter with the Guardian Spirits
As we entered, faint shadows appeared. Faceless visages, voices echoing in our minds, not ears.
"Why do you come? You are not our heirs."
I stepped forward. "We are not heirs by blood, but heirs of will. Our world will perish if we do not fight."
Silence. Then one spirit floated closer, its form shaping into an old woman with eyes of white fire.
"Then prove yourselves. Face the Trial of the Ancient Light."
The Trial of the Three Cores
The trial was divided into three parts:
Trial of the Body – an illusionary battlefield forcing us to fight tirelessly against shadows of ourselves. I faced "Roky," who chose to let the world fall apart for a peaceful life. I won—with wounds in my heart, not on my skin.
Trial of the Soul – we were forced to confront our greatest fears. Lyra screamed as she saw her mother sacrificed again. Tarell saw himself kill his own younger sister. I? I saw myself become the Shadow-Dark. And the most painful—within my dream, I felt pleasure in that destruction.
Trial of Intent – we were asked to touch the Core Light. Whoever's intent was impure... would be destroyed. One of us, Rynn, burned to ash. She harbored a blinding desire for revenge.
In the end, only five of ten passed. Me, Lyra, Tarell, Varenn, and Nasha.
As a result, we received the Touch of the Ancient Light: a boost to our basic abilities and a unique "aspect" that could only be awakened by pure intent in battle.
I still know nothing of my aspect. But I feel a strange power—not born from anger... but from the decision to keep fighting, even if the world falls apart.
Return to the Real World
When we descended the mountain, bad news awaited. Shadow-Dark forces sent a small troop to attack villages to the south, searching for traces of the Abyss Heart.
However, something had changed.
When we encountered the enemy small force in Arkh Valley, I accidentally activated my new power. A symbol appeared on my chest—a swirling light—and with a single slash, the shadows shattered like dust swept by sunlight.
"You... are different now," Lyra said, breathless after the fight. "Not just strong. You... have become the balance."
I didn't answer. I still didn't fully understand what had changed within me. But I knew one thing:
The enemy would return. With greater power, and deeper hatred.
But now... so had we.
We were ready.
Chapter 31 – The Counterattack
That night, we spoke little. The campfire flickered softly in the middle of the campsite, and only the sounds of the wind and crackling wood could be heard. Each of us was lost in our own thoughts—about what was to come, and who might never return.
Tomorrow, we would lead the first counterattack since the Abyss Heart was ripped from our hands. Our target: Karst Fortress, a strategic post now controlled by the shadow race—dark creatures who had bowed to the power of the Shadow-Dark.
"That fortress once belonged to the White Elves," Varenn said that night. "If we can take it back, the route to the heart of the central lands will open. And… maybe they'll start believing we can win."
I stared at the sky. "Or maybe they'll see this as a suicide mission."
Varenn gave a bitter laugh. "Whatever happens, at least we give the world a reason to hope."
The Attack Begins
At dawn, we moved.
Fifty combined warriors—humans, beastkin, elves, even a young dragon from the Dracoryn race—gathered beneath the Karst valley. I led the main unit, Lyra and Varenn held the right flank, Tarell commanded the stealth squad on the left, and Nasha led the magic ranks.
Our strategy was simple: a massive diversion at the main gate while the infiltration team opened a path from the cliff side.
When the sun reached its peak, I raised my hand. "Time to burn the old world down."
And we struck.
The first explosion came from Nasha. A fireball the size of a wagon engulfed the fortress gate, drawing out the shadow soldiers. Meanwhile, beneath the rocky shadows, Tarell and his unit began their silent climb.
Karst Fortress was more than walls and towers. It was a symbol. And symbols must be shattered before all eyes.
I crashed into the enemy ranks, light from the Touch of the Ancient Light exploding around me. Every slash of my sword cut not just flesh, but the darkness itself.
Around me, Lyra danced with twin blades, agile and swift. Varenn transformed into a massive wolf, tearing through anything in his path.
"WE'RE IN!" Tarell shouted from atop the fortress wall. The rear path was breached.
Death Comes Knocking
But victory rarely comes without cost.
As we pushed into the inner courtyard, a figure loomed from the shadows. Its body was pitch black, twice the height of a man, with tattered wings and burning red eyes—the Shadow General, one of the Shadow-Dark's right hands.
Varenn lunged first. But the creature met him with a punch of black fire. Varenn's body was thrown dozens of meters, smashing against the fortress wall. Blood spilled from his mouth.
"VARENN!!" Lyra screamed, running to him, but I held her back.
"I'll handle this. Take Varenn somewhere safe."
I faced the general alone.
We fought like a storm. My sword clashed with claws and spears. I barely kept up with its speed. But in one moment, as it aimed for my heart, my new power surged.
The Balancing Light Aspect.
A blast of light flowed from my body, pushing the general back. In his eyes' reflection, I saw—I was no longer just Roky. But someone… something… standing between light and dark.
With a single slash, I cut off his right wing.
He howled and retreated, his body fading into shadows before vanishing.
Karst Fortress fell to us.
But...
The Price of Victory
Varenn lay on a wooden bed, gasping for breath. Nasha held his hand, trying to channel healing energy, but her eyes were already wet.
"You'll be alright, Varenn…" she whispered.
He gave me a weak smile. "We won, right?"
I nodded. "We won."
He breathed out slowly. "Then… I can rest a while…"
And at that very moment… his eyes closed. Nasha's hands gripped the body now lifeless.
No sound. No scream. Only silence. And a feeling of loss that hit like an iron hammer.
The Fire That Still Burns
That night, we burned Varenn's body in the middle of the newly captured fortress courtyard. The races that once fought each other now stood together, raising their weapons to the sky in a final salute.
I stood at the front, watching the flames consume my friend.
"One by one, we will fall," I said. "But every life lost, every drop of blood spilled… will be a stepping stone toward a better world."
They were silent. But I knew: we had turned the tide.
The Shadow-Dark now knew… we would not stay silent.
We would strike back.
And we would not stop.
Chapter 32 – Sacrifice and Victory
Karst Fortress had fallen. But we had no time to celebrate. Scouts from the Shadow race reported: Shadow-Dark was sending its full force to reclaim the fortress within three days.
Three days.
To prepare the defense. To unite the races that had never truly stood together. To prove that this battle was not merely about territory—but the last hope for a world collapsing.
Day One: Division
"We cannot fight alongside humans!" shouted a Beastkin leader. "They're the ones who ignited this war!"
"And your kind?" retorted the Black Elf leader. "You hunt us like beasts."
We gathered in the fortress's main hall to discuss defenses. But as I expected—the fragile coalition began to crack even before the enemy arrived.
I slammed my fist on the stone table. "Enough!"
They all turned to me.
"We can argue to our hearts' content after this. After we're all dead. But now, if you retreat, you lose more than land. You lose your reason to live."
The voice was not a yell, but spoken with piercing conviction. Slowly… one by one, they fell silent.
The first day ended with many wounds, but at least we agreed to stand together.
Day Two: Preparation
We divided the forces into three defensive layers: the outer wall, the main courtyard, and the inner chamber where the Abyss Heart once rested.
The dragon race patrolled the skies. Beastkin reinforced the main gate. Elves spread binding magic over the cracks in the walls. Humans, though few, stood unwavering.
I trained late into the night myself, pushing my body beyond its limits.
"Tomorrow, the world changes," I whispered into the darkness.
And I knew... not all of us would witness it.
Day Three: They Come
Dawn had not yet revealed its face when the earth began to tremble.
The Shadow-Dark arrived. With thousands of troops: mist creatures, horned demons, and dark knights clad in pitch black armor. The air grew heavy. The sky turned gray, even before they arrived.
We stood on the fortress walls. Me, Lyra, Nasha, Tarell. Without Varenn, but his spirit with us.
"Prepare!" I shouted. "Today isn't about winning. It's about surviving. And giving them a reason to believe this world can still be saved!"
The battle cries echoed, mixing languages of nine races, but carrying the same meaning.
And the battle began.
The Battle
The first wave came mercilessly. The outer gate nearly fell, but the beastkin stood their ground with fierce determination. Magical explosions colored the sky. Blood stained the rocky ground.
On the left flank, a young dragon fell, pierced by shadow arrows. On the right, an elven woman was slain while shielding a human child.
I was in the center, slash after slash, until my body no longer felt fatigue.
Tarell, the shadow hunter, fought like a demon. But when I saw a winged creature break his spine before my eyes, I knew—
This battle would take more than I could give.
But we held on. Even as the Shadow General reappeared, his wings fully restored and power far more overwhelming.
We retreated to the inner courtyard. Their numbers were greater. But we had one advantage.
Nasha.
She stood in the center of a magic circle she'd formed herself. "Roky, guard me for ten minutes. I will summon the Ancient Light."
I nodded, holding back creature after creature trying to break through.
Blood trickled from my temple. My hands went numb. But I did not retreat.
Sacrifice
When the general advanced, cutting through our last line toward Nasha, I knew I wasn't fast enough to stop him.
But someone leapt from the fortress wall. Lyra.
She plunged her twin swords into the general's body, activating a binding spell she once learned from Varenn.
"RUN!" she yelled to me.
I rushed to her, but she was already locked in the fire magic's swirl with the creature.
"This is my way to pay... for all the lies I once told," she said with a faint smile. "Win this, Roky."
A blast of light shattered the courtyard.
And when the dust settled, both of them were gone.
A Wounded Victory
But because of that sacrifice... time was enough.
Nasha finished her spell. From the ground, ancient light exploded into the sky, erasing shadow from enemy bodies. Light that darkness could not swallow.
The Shadow-Dark forces retreated. Some burned. Some vanished.
And finally, the fortress held.
We won.
With half our forces fallen. With blood and tears.
With loss.
But… we won.
Chapter 33 – A New Beginning for the World
The sun rose from the eastern horizon, chasing away the thin mist that had cloaked the land of battle for weeks. The sky, once gray, now faded to a pale blue, as if the world was slowly remembering what it felt like to breathe in peace.
Karst Fortress was no longer a war stronghold. Its walls still stood, cracked but sturdy. Yet inside, it was no longer a military barrack, but a meeting place for representatives of all races. The large stone table in the main hall was replaced by a round oak circle, where nine races now sat—not as enemies, but as siblings sharing the same world.
I, Roky, stood among them. Not as a leader. Not as a hero. But as a reminder—that this world had once burned, and only cooperation saved us from utter ruin.
Reconciliation
"The Shadow race has been pushed back, but they are not gone," Nasha said, her eyes on the large map spread on the table. "If we return to old ways, they will come back... and this world won't get a second chance."
The Beastkin and Black Elves exchanged glances. The dragons snorted softly, but said nothing.
An elder human raised his hand. "We... we have lost much. But I agree. It's time to unite the shards of this world into a new foundation."
"And how do we start?" asked Dyral, an Orc from the north.
I answered softer than usual. "By building trust. By opening borders. By mingling our blood—not through war, but through cooperation."
Some remained doubtful, but none opposed. They had seen what happened when we were divided.
Funeral and Promise
Three days later, we held a joint funeral for those who had fallen. Lyra, Tarell, the young dragons, old elves, even the human child who died delivering potions.
No distinctions. No divisions.
Only names, prayers, and tears.
I stood before Lyra's grave, her sword planted in the earth, with the red ribbon she once tied on my wrist.
"All your betrayals, all your sacrifices... they were not in vain," I whispered. "I will carry this world forward for you."
The Rise of the World Coalition
Weeks passed. We named the new alliance Ikatan Aetherya—after our world. Not a kingdom, not domination, but an open forum where nine races sent representatives and worked together.
The dragons offered air transport. The elves guarded nature's balance. Humans focused on rebuilding technology. Shadow-Dark was now monitored, not hunted, with the goal of fostering dialogue.
For the first time in Aetherya's history, the nine races shared culture and food in one market. Mixed-race children were born. Schools were built—not to teach supremacy of one race, but the history never to be forgotten.
Roky, The Man Outside the Fortress
And me?
I declined any leadership position. I chose to live in the village where I grew up—the old church that became a place of learning and shelter for orphaned races.
Children of all shapes and colors called me "Brother Roky" or "Teacher." I taught them how to survive, how to make peace with pain, and how to find strength not in power... but in choice.
One night, Nasha visited. She seemed older now. Her silver hair braided back, her blue cloak free of bloodstains.
"This world is starting to move in the right direction," she said, sitting on the church steps with me.
I nodded. "But it's not finished."
"Never will be," she smiled faintly. "Because peace isn't something we achieve. It's something we nurture... every day."
I sighed. "Then... what is our task?"
Nasha looked toward the children playing in the yard. "To keep them laughing. And when storms come again someday... to make sure they are never alone."
And that night, beneath Aetherya's sky once again dotted with stars, I knew—
A world without walls was no longer a dream. But reality.
And from the ruins of the past, we built something far stronger than walls: togetherness.