The morning was darker than usual.
The first glimmer of dawn was still tucked behind the clouds when the forest roared to life with sound.
Echo of distant horns, drums cracked through the air like lightning.
Their rhythm echoed across the landscape like an ancient call to arms.
The ground shook with marching footsteps as banners flapped in the wind. The scent of metal, mud, and wet bark filled the air. It was barely 5:00 AM—still dark—but the battlefield was already alive.
Light crouched low behind a knotted tree stump on the hillside, choosing once again the perfect vantage point—hidden from all eyes, yet capable of seeing everything. Rain from the night before had dampened the ground, silencing his steps. No birdsong, no wind. Only the tension of war building, breath by breath.
From the heights, he observed both sides surging forward.
> "This is it," he thought, eyes scanning the field. "The stage is set."
From here, he saw both sides clearly.
---
The Empire's Frontline
At the center of the imperial formation stood their Army General, a massive man clad in gleaming blue-plated armor that shimmered even in dim light. His sheer presence radiated dominance—taller than the emperor's first son and broader than any knight around him. In his hands rested a greatsword, so massive it looked like it should have required two men to lift.
Behind him, imperial knights stood in rows—disciplined, synchronized, unmoving. Each unit had eighty men, and there were sixty such units arranged in calculated formations. Around 7,700 strong, with additional security patrols, special squads, and elite units dispersed among them.
On the higher ridge behind the army stood the emperor's three sons:
Prince Vitas – the first son, a mountain of a man, clad in full armor and gripping a huge axe.
Prince Uji – the second son, refined, handsome, in lighter armor, his one-handed sword gleaming like silver flame.
Prince Nit – the third son, pale, observing with cold calculation from the backline, making no move yet.
Just beside them stood their personal aides, advisors, and elite guards. But one figure stood alone, slightly to the side—detached, watching the warfield with cold detachment.
> "Assassin Queen," Light noted. "Still. Alert. Focused."
---
The Rebellion's Side
From across the battlefield, an army of near equal number surged forward. But there was no elegance in their formation. They came in waves, chaotic but deadly—no matching armor, only a shared hunger in their eyes.
> "They don't care for rank or polish," Light realized. "They're here to kill. That's all."
Their general stood out—not because of uniform, but because of his sheer savagery. A burly warrior wielding a giant axe, scars across his arms and face like medals of pain. Around him stood unique fighters—wild-looking, but honed by war.
Trumpets flared again.
And Then battle began with a roar.
Both sides charged.
Knights stood like walls, absorbing the initial charge. Blades clanged. Shields cracked. Blood spattered. The disciplined formations held.
But the rebels adapted quickly—hitting weak points, slicing through eye gaps, armor joints, and neck openings.
> Power vs Precision. Order vs Chaos.
Light's eyes darted from skirmish to skirmish, watching footwork, formations, mistakes, and surprises. He was building a mental map—reading every moment like a chessboard.
Side Maneuvers Begin
Suddenly, Light noticed movement at the forest edge.
> "They're not just clashing head-on," he thought. "They're flanking too."
On the Empire's right, Prince Vitas moved out with his personal squad.
On the left, Prince Uji followed suit, his sword glowing faintly.
The eldest prince's opponent was a muscular rebel wielding twin clubs, nearly equal in size. They clashed with brute force. Steel against muscle. Rage against strength.
The second prince found his match in a swift, precise female warrior whose light armor and speed made her a blur. Their duel was dance-like—two blades hissing through air, pausing only for a breath.
Both princes had taken elite soldiers and chosen knights. Meanwhile, Prince Nit and the Assassin Queen stayed near the command tents. And among the crowd, Light noticed members of the Silent Fang Unit, hiding behind ranks but steadily inching forward.
Light's Reflection
Light watched quietly, adjusting his posture.
> "Each prince wants glory. This is their moment."
"But why did Nit stay back?"
"And the Queen... is she still waiting?"
By noon, the main field was a slaughterhouse.
As the sun climbed higher, Light's Focus skill caught a new anomaly—figures hiding in trees, on both sides of the battlefield.
> "Observers," he noted. "Some spies… and some assassins."
"Even the Assassin Queen has noticed them."
Bodies piled atop bodies. Screams echoed. Some knights had to fight atop fallen comrades. Blood soaked the dirt so thoroughly that grass turned black beneath it.
Light saw it all. He absorbed every detail. Every strength. Every weakness. Every choice made. He knew even the most loyal men feared death now.
And then, his eyes locked onto something…
The center. The Rebellion's main camp. Movement.
A figure stepped forward—tall, cloaked in dark blue, entirely covered. Face hidden. Gender unreadable. But there was no mistaking the pressure he brought with him.
The battlefield paused.
> "Rebellion King."
He stood with only two escorts—one wielding a sword and shield, the other carrying a long spear. His army surged forward, but he did not move. He waited.
The name moved like a gust through both armies.
His own soldiers parted to make way. Some went left. Others right. But he remained still.
Light watched. He waited.
> "Why isn't he charging?" Light wondered. "He's letting the battle unfold… measuring everything."
Then—chaos.
The Emperor's Special Unit, which had remained oddly inactive till now, surged forward—led by their cold, masked commander. Their target: the Rebellion King.
The silent power was chilling.
Meanwhile, the emperor's sons were being pushed. They'd won their duels. But now—new enemies emerged.
And Light? Still watching. Still learning.
> "Each of them… playing their role. Some fighting for glory. Others for survival. And some… for something darker."
At once, elite units and special task forces began converging—directed not by strategy, but by emotion.
Prince Vitas roared, charging toward the King's location with fury.
Prince Uji followed from the other side, his blade flashing. The Assassin Queen stepped in to flank, while the Silent Fang leader advanced from a different angle.
> "Too impulsive," Light thought. "They're falling into position… just as he wanted."
Within seconds, both princes were intercepted by the King's escorts. Steel clashed. Sparks flew. But even that wasn't the climax.
The Rebellion King, still cloaked, unfastened his outer robes.
Underneath was a full-body dark blue armor, tattoos glowing faintly on his bald head—etched in shimmering blue ink like runes.
> "He's no ordinary rebel," Light whispered. "He's the reason the Empire's terrified."
Without a word, he pointed his two-handed sword toward the Silent Fang leader—his challenge issued silently.
The clash began.
Assassin Queen frowned—not because she feared him, but because her chance was stolen.
> "He didn't choose me," she muttered.
Still, more rebellion fighters emerged from the forest.
> "So they were waiting too…" Light realized. "Everything is a trap for a trap."
At that moment, Light leaned deeper into shadow.
> "So many eyes. So many players. This… isn't just a battle."
> "It's the first move of a war that's been waiting for years to begin."
> "Now I wait," Light whispered, pulling out a fresh page.
> "The storm's started. Let's see whose foundation cracks first."