Southern Kingdom, Clovet
The city walls lay in ruins. Fires raged across the streets, smoke billowed into the air, buildings crumbled, and shrill cries mixed with terrified screams echoed everywhere in Clovet City.
Flaming trees hurled from the sky smashed through the walls, adding to the devastation.
The scene resembled nothing less than a living hell for both soldiers and civilians.
"Father! Father~!" A desperate voice rang out.
A woman with fair skin, dressed in a magnificent golden gown that highlighted her graceful curves, cradled a middle-aged man in her arms. Her face was full of grief.
The man, clad in golden armor, was King Clovet.
But judging by the crushed chest plate, he was already dead.
The woman holding him was the kingdom's sole heir—Princess Isabel.
"Please… someone help!"
Isabel sobbed uncontrollably, tears falling in streams down her cheeks.
"Boom!!" "Bang!!"
Another deafening crash erupted beside her. Isabel turned her head and saw flaming trees and massive boulders crashing against the city walls.
Swallowing her grief, she lifted her skirts and ran toward the castle tower.
If she could light the beacon there, the neighboring kingdoms would see it and come to Clovet's aid.
Outside the walls, the battlefield had become a mountain of corpses and a sea of blood.
The once-green meadows were now drenched in scarlet.
Everywhere, broken limbs, shattered bones, and lifeless bodies littered the ground.
Farther out, torn tents were scattered across the plain—the remnants of the Holy See Legion's camp, which had been caught off guard in last night's assault.
Now, most of its knights were either dead… or had become food for the giants.
At least a thousand giants surrounded the city walls, armored and armed with a variety of weapons.
Each one stood eight or nine meters tall, exuding not only terrifying strength but also an aura of crushing oppression.
At the front of their ranks loomed a two-headed giant, fifteen or sixteen meters tall, radiating raw power.
His fierce expression twisted as he commanded the relentless assault.
Behind him stood several giant captains, each about twelve meters tall, warriors who had already reached the first life stage. Two bore heavy wounds but remained standing.
"These wretched humans thought they could control us with a crown? Hah! They've truly overestimated themselves!"
The two-headed giant sneered.
From behind him, a heavily armored giant named Aili added mockingly:
"They don't even realize, General fallon—you've already advanced to the level of Giant King. You're no longer shackled by the crown's curse!"
"Otherwise, that fool would never have dared to reach out to Gantuis or attempt to command us."
Laughter erupted among the giants at Aili's words.
fallon lifted his hand and sneered at the golden ring on his finger.
It was the Eric Crown, forged centuries ago from the heart of a Giant King—an artifact capable of commanding his kind.
And that fool Roderick, some minister of Clovet, had actually believed he could wield it.
Within the city, as flames devoured Clovet, Vlad soared toward the smoke-shrouded spire at near-sonic speed.
"You lit the beacon," a voice suddenly spoke behind him.
Princess Isabel stiffened in shock, her body trembling. At some point, another figure had appeared on the tower.
She gasped, "Who are you? How did you get up here!?"
The stairs were right beside her—no one could have climbed them without her noticing.
Vlad studied her intently: the beautiful princess in golden robes, her tall, elegant figure stirring endless imagination.
"You must be Isabel," Vlad said.
"I-I am," she stammered.
"Well then, call me Vlad. I've come to aid you. Tell me—what happened here?"
Still dazed, Isabel recounted the events without hesitation.
The calamity had begun with the spread of the wolf plague.
King Clovet, desperate, had unearthed two ancient treasures from his ancestor Eric's tomb: a crown that could command giants, and magic beans that sprouted sky-reaching vines connecting to Gantua, the island in the sky.
But the crisis had been alleviated with the arrival of the Holy See Judges and their knights.
Believing the treasures were no longer needed, the king had locked them away in a cabinet.
But the royal steward, Roderick, had witnessed everything.
"He stole the crown and the beans, hoping to control the giants and seize Clovet," Isabel explained bitterly.
"But when we discovered his scheme, he panicked. To cover his escape, he threw away the beans."
"So… these giants are under his control?" Vlad rubbed his chin in thought.
Isabel sneered, her voice sharp with grim satisfaction: "As for him, I doubt he's in control of anything anymore. By now, he's probably nothing but giant's dung!"
Vlad blinked, confused. "But didn't you say he stole the crown that controls them?"
"Yes, Sir Vlad. But perhaps the crown's legend was exaggerated. He failed to control all of them—and so, he died."
Her tear-stained face twisted into a bitter smile. It was cruel satisfaction—but still the only relief she had.
"Boom! Crash!"
"Ahhh!"
A sudden blast rocked the tower.
Isabel stumbled, nearly toppling down the stairs.
Vlad reached out, caught her hand, and pulled her back to safety—saving her from certain injury or worse.
Still trembling, Isabel clung to his chest until her breathing steadied.
When she finally looked up, her cheeks flushed. Embarrassed, she quickly stepped back.
"Thank you," she murmured, her voice soft and wavering.
But Isabel was no fragile maiden. Raised and trained to rule since childhood, she quickly collected herself.
Looking down at the mass of giants surging against the walls, her tone hardened.
"Sir Vlad, you said you came to support us. Where is your army?"
She searched the horizon nervously—but beyond the walls, there were no soldiers. Only giants.
Suspicion filled her gaze. But Vlad merely lifted a hand and pointed to the sky.
Confused, Isabel followed his gesture—then froze.
The sight carved itself into her memory forever.
From the blue heavens swept a massive black cloud, racing forward at a speed beyond belief.
But as it drew closer, Isabel's heart nearly stopped. It wasn't a cloud at all—
It was an army.
A vast host of winged figures, thousands strong, each bearing enormous bat-like wings.
The vampire legion.
Behind them surged swarms of giant bats, darkening the sky, blotting out the sun.
Isabel's entire vision was consumed by their overwhelming presence.
Before she could even recover—
On the ground, three to four thousand cavalry thundered forward, moving twice, even thrice as fast as ordinary horsemen.
And from the distant forest, the earth trembled. A colossal roar shook the skies as something monstrous surged toward the battlefield.
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