Black Vale was a strategic stronghold along the spine of the northern mountains. Its capture would cripple the Republic's supply routes. Prince Dutch ordered a full-scale assault.
The army gathered — Herzl among them. But something was wrong.
As they advanced, the sky turned dark. Not nightfall — a storm of ash.
The Ashborn came with it.
Black, skeletal beasts with burning cores. They didn't fight for country, only for consumption. Their howls drove weaker minds insane.
Herzl fought with Grim and Anna at his side, pushing through walls of fire, smoke, and blood.
"These aren't soldiers," Anna cried. "They're nightmares."
The Ashborn were immune to blades. Only inn-touched could hurt them.
Herzl closed his eyes, channeled the deep breath Grim had taught him, and summoned his inn.
A blue flame crackled in his veins. His punches could now break steel.
One by one, the Ashborn fell — but so did hundreds of men.
The battle ended at dawn. Black Vale stood — barely.
Prince Dutch arrived later that day, stepping over corpses.
"This is the price of peace," he said.
But Herzl had seen something during the battle — a symbol on one of the Ashborn's armor.
It wasn't demonic. It was Republican.
Plot twist:
The Republic wasn't just fighting the Ashborn — they created them. Bio-inn experiments gone rogue. Herzl now questions who the real enemy is… and if there's anyone left worth fighting for.