The ground burned beneath the warriors' feet, and the sky rained blue fire that devoured iron and stone alike. In the distance, nothing could be seen but tongues of flame, clashing steel, and screams echoing like the very cries of the kingdoms themselves. Amid this inferno, Leo stood upon a high ridge, his eyes gleaming through the smoke, his voice cutting through the chaos of war.
He raised his sword high and commanded with firm authority:
— "Miral! Take the archers to the rear! Protect the commanders from any sudden flank!"
Then, turning sharply, he pointed to the right flank:
— "Eiron! Strike the sides with the sword battalions—no one crosses into our lines!"
Finally, his voice thundered toward the front ranks:
— "Jalon! You and the giants hold the center! You are the shield of Luthoria—do not break, no matter how fierce the flames!"
The warriors saluted in unison and charged to their positions. The plan that Leo had carved in moments of chaos moved through them like instinct. The army shifted from disorder to harmony—steel, fire, and voices beating in one rhythm.
As the giants advanced through the heart of the battlefield, the earth quaked beneath their steps, and a storm of dust rose like a gray wall hiding the carnage behind it.
■ ■ ■
Near the Gate of Arithilia, Darin fought with everything he had. His golden sword left trails of light with each strike. Blood stained his armor, sweat trickled down his brow, but he did not falter.
Suddenly, he heard movement behind him. Spinning around, he saw a Gothers soldier lunging down from above, spear aimed at his back.
Before the strike could land, Klaus appeared out of the smoke—an obsidian blur between fire and shadow. He blocked the attack with his short blade, then drove it into the enemy's chest.
Darin stepped back, flashing a quick grin amid the chaos.
— "You're late, my friend."
Klaus replied in his usual cold tone:
— "I thought you enjoyed surprises, Prince of Luthoria."
Darin laughed, raising his sword again.
— "Then let's give them one!"
The two surged forward—light and shadow intertwining—cutting through enemy lines like twin wings of a soaring eagle.
■ ■ ■
On a nearby hill, Sherry watched the scene unfold. Smoke coiled around her face, her crimson eyes reflecting the disciplined movement of Luthoria's armies below.
She muttered under her breath, her voice sharp with frustration:
— "What is this… such coordination? Who are these new commanders?"
Before she could say more, a calm, radiant voice sounded behind her:
— "A message from Leo, Sherry…"
She turned slowly to find Dravis, his silver sword glowing faintly through the smoke. His tone was steady but resolute:
— "Choose now. Stand with us—or die bound in the flames of this war."
Her breath caught. For a fleeting moment, her expression wavered. Then, softly:
— "I'm… with you."
Dravis approached, cutting her restraints. Yet as soon as the ropes fell, she leapt back—her wings of red energy flaring—then soared into the sky, straight toward Gothers ranks.
She landed before Thron, kneeling briefly amid the blazing ruins.
Raising her head, she declared defiantly:
— "I will never abandon Gothers."
Thron's laughter echoed like rolling thunder.
— "I like your spirit, little weakling. Then take your place—you know where it is."
With a sharp motion of her black sword, she roared:
— "Attack! Leave none of them alive!"
The armies of Gothers surged once more, and the world seemed to collapse into fire and blood.
■ ■ ■
Back at the center, Dravis's eyes burned with resolve. His sword flared with pure light as he shouted:
— "Light of Blindria… Manifest!"
A beam of white brilliance erupted, tearing through enemy lines, extinguishing patches of the cursed blue fire. Soldiers around him gasped as the words spread through the ranks—
"Flash of Purity."
Elsewhere, Darin and Klaus fought side by side against waves of cursed warriors.
Darin unleashed a spinning blast of destructive energy, roaring:
— "Breaking Arc!"
The ground exploded beneath their foes, scattering them like ashes.
Klaus vanished into shadow, whispering his technique:
— "Shadow Traverse."
He appeared behind enemies, striking in a blur, leaving only the silence of death in his wake.
The battlefield was chaos and divinity combined—light, darkness, and fire twisting under a blood-red sky.
■ ■ ■
Then came a voice—calm yet commanding, echoing through the storm of war:
— "Pull back—just a little."
All eyes turned.
Leo had entered the battlefield.
He stood amid the flames, his golden aura bending the fire away from him. Each step he took made the inferno recoil, as though the flames themselves feared him.
For a heartbeat, time froze.
Across the field, Thron stood atop burning rubble, her gaze fixed on him. Her lips curved into a mocking smile.
— "Such power, Leo… I never imagined a human could wield this much."
Her tone turned sharper, her grin wicked.
— "So, you're dangerous after all? Very well… let's see it for ourselves."
She raised her black sword, and the blue fire spiraled around her like a vortex of the underworld.
Leo tightened his grip on his blade, his eyes glowing with unwavering light and will.
They advanced toward one another—slowly, deliberately—until the world around them ceased to matter.
Then, in a single instant, their swords collided—
A blinding storm of gold and shadow erupted, shaking the ground, splitting the sky itself.
And in that suspended moment, all fell silent.
For here, at the Gate of Arithilia, began the battle that would change the fate of the Four Kingdoms forever.