Scene: The Fracturing Throne Room
The golden throne room of the Western Kingdom stood heavy in silence.
The emperor, once proud and unshakable, now trembled upon his throne. His knuckles whitened as he gripped the golden lion-carved arms of his seat, eyes wide at the growing tremors outside.
The earth itself was afraid—for the Lions had begun their march.
The Queen, adorned in crimson silk with golden embroidery, stepped beside her husband. Her voice was calm, almost mocking.
Queen (scoffing):
"My love... are you trembling? For what?
They're still just men. Even if they're Dragons and Lions…
They bleed the same red. Their bones break like ours.
Do not forget—we are still the ruling Empire."
She walked slowly toward the center of the room, her voice echoing.
Queen (louder):
"We have twenty million strong!
Soldiers. Elite warriors. Grandmaster warlords.
Cultivators that shatter mountains. Wizards that command storms.
And our Death Knight Division stands undefeated!"
"Why fear twenty beasts in cloaks and armor when we have the might of empires?"
The ministers and generals murmured, some nodding, clinging to her bravado.
But the emperor remained silent, sweat beading down his temple.
He slowly stood, staring at the royal banners fluttering in the wind. Then he turned to her—his voice barely above a whisper.
Emperor:
"My Queen… tell me…
If we are so powerful…
Why has not one kingdom come to our aid?
Not the East. Not the South. Not even our closest vassals.
Where are the alliances we forged over centuries?"
The Queen faltered, her expression hardening.
Emperor (coldly):
"Because they know.
They all know the Lion's law—return kindness tenfold… vengeance thousandfold.
Even whispering against the Lion's cub… means death."
He turned away, his voice rising with bitter realization.
Emperor:
"They did not march with twenty Lions.
They brought every single Lion.
From the High Plains to the Ember Coast. From the floating citadels to the skyward cities.
The entire pride moves, my Queen.
That is not vengeance.
That… is execution."
A deadly silence fell.
---
Scene: Echoes of Fear
Suddenly, one of the war ministers burst through the hall, pale and panicked.
Minister:
"Your Majesty! The scouts—our high-altitude mages—they've returned!"
Emperor:
"Speak. What did they see?"
Minister (trembling):
"Crimson banners… as far as the eye can see.
The sky has turned red, my King… they say even the sun refuses to shine on the march of the Lion."
Another rushed in.
Second Minister:
"The Northern skies burn with blue flame—the Dragons fly with them!
And we've just confirmed… the Celestial Hawk Clan has declared neutrality.
They closed their gates. So did the Southern Wind Isles."
Minister (almost whispering):
"We stand… alone."
The Queen clenched her jaw, her fists trembling.
Queen (angrily):
"Cowards. All of them!"
Emperor (quietly):
"No. Survivors."
He stepped forward, turning to his court.
Emperor (commanding):
"Prepare the capital. Evacuate the civilians.
Call back the Death Knight Division, seal the inner citadel, and ready the Divine Barriers."
"But understand this—we will not win.
We will only survive long enough to be remembered."
The Queen's face twisted.
Queen:
"So you surrender?"
Emperor (furious):
"No! I surrender nothing!
But you—you brought this upon us!
If you had not touched the Lion cub, if you had not dragged your pride into your vengeance—we would still rule unchallenged!"
In a flash of rage, he struck her across the face.
The entire court gasped. The Queen fell to her knees, blood on her lip.
Emperor (low and final):
"Your foolish pride has doomed our house.
The Lion does not forget. And now… neither shall history."
---
Scene: A Blood Moon Rises
Outside the gates of the capital, the earth shook with approaching hoofbeats and war drums.
The Crimson Lions marched in perfect silence.
Their eyes glowed in the shadow of the setting sun.
Not rage. Not joy.
Only resolve.
Behind them came the Northern Dragons, their roars splitting the sky.
At the front, Alen rode beside Doren and Ryen.
He looked to the stars, where a blood moon rose.
Alen (quietly to himself):
"For Lyra. For the Lions. For every innocent.
Let justice be deafening."
He drew his blade, etched with the crest of his clan.
And then, he gave the final command:
Alen (with unshakable calm):
"Begin the Hunt."
---