"When both sides drop fire, no one sees the stars anymore."
Dawn – The Hour of Flame
At exactly 0600, the sky was set ablaze — not by the sun, but by machines of death.
From the west, the Republic Skyfang-Class V Bombers approached in perfect triangular formation, darkening the morning with iron wings and crimson insignias. From the east, the Kingdom's Wyrmhawk Gunships responded, engines roaring, their frames engraved with Inn-reactive runes pulsing violet in the stormlight.
Each side thought they were launching a surprise bombing campaign.
Each side was wrong.
The Battlefield: Feldhahn Basin
The skies above the Feldhahn Basin were transformed into an iron stormfront. Dozens of warplanes, powered by oil, magic, and madness, pierced through the clouds. The air buzzed with the electric screech of arc-bombs, runic missiles, and the desperate prayers of soldiers below.
Herzl stood on the rooftop of a burning outpost, his rifle strapped, eyes scanning the chaos.
BOOM.
A Republic skybomb struck the northern defense grid, shattering the inn-crystals that powered the barrier towers.
BOOM.
A Kingdom twin-engine fighter crashed into a fuel depot below, engulfing both friend and foe in a sea of flame.
"Gods," whispered Anna beside him, her coat flapping wildly. "They're not fighting a war anymore. They're feeding it."
Supply Lines and Foreign Devils
Deep behind the lines, emissaries from neutral nations watched from polished, armored convoys.
The Volgrathi Syndicate, a desert empire known for soul-trading and black-iron weaponry, supplied aether-igniters to the Republic.
Meanwhile, The Virean Empire, rich in mountains and myths, sold Wyrmglass Bombs to the Kingdom — illegal munitions that turned oxygen into liquid fire.
Neither side seemed to care about treaties anymore.
This wasn't a war for justice.
It was a war for who got to write the history books.
Ground Hell: Replicants vs. Golems
As the skies wept fire, the ground buckled with monsters.
The Republic's Replicants stormed the ruined villages — bio-fused beasts with rifles fused into their forearms. They were relentless. Soulless.
In retaliation, the Kingdom released the Golemic Order — massive constructs made of stone and sorrow, each one bound to the soul of a fallen hero, driven by vengeance alone.
Steel clashed against stone. Magic against flesh. It wasn't a battle anymore.
It was a funeral for peace.
A Twist of Fire and Lies
Mid-battle, a Republic bomber dropped a black container marked with a Virean glyph — a glyph only the Kingdom used.
Anna stared at it through binoculars.
"That's… that's our design."
Grim's eyes narrowed. "They're framing us."
Within seconds, the black device released a torrent of necro-gas — outlawed during the Treaty of Silence. Soldiers caught within screamed as their skin melted, nerves ignited from the inside.
A Republic broadcast soon followed:
"The Kingdom has unleashed forbidden weapons upon civilians. The world must not ignore this atrocity."
Herzl's heart dropped.
"It wasn't us. They used our supplier's bombs to—"
"They don't care," Grim said coldly. "They want to make us monsters. It's easier to bomb a monster than a man."
The Death of Morality
That night, the capital cities of both empires burned.
Volgoth, seat of the Republic, was struck by Kingdom shadowcrafts. 17,000 dead. No survivors in the eastern quarter.
Rathenberg, crown jewel of the Kingdom, was leveled by mirrorbombs. The prince's cousin perished in the fire.
In every trench, soldier, and civilian's heart — a simple truth emerged:
No one would win this war. Only survivors would remain.
Herzl's Revelation
Herzl wandered the wreckage at night — bomb craters glowing, ash falling like snow. He found a child clutching a melted soldier's helmet.
He knelt beside her.
"What was his name?" Herzl asked gently.
"Does it matter?" she said hollowly.
He said nothing.
From behind him, Grim's voice: "You feel it now. Don't you?"
"Feel what?" Herzl replied, eyes empty.
"That none of this will end unless we burn the idea of sides entirely."
End of Chapter 11
"When both sides drop fire, no one sees the stars anymore."
Dawn – The Hour of Flame
At exactly 0600, the sky was set ablaze — not by the sun, but by machines of death.
From the west, the Republic Skyfang-Class V Bombers approached in perfect triangular formation, darkening the morning with iron wings and crimson insignias. From the east, the Kingdom's Wyrmhawk Gunships responded, engines roaring, their frames engraved with Inn-reactive runes pulsing violet in the stormlight.
Each side thought they were launching a surprise bombing campaign.
Each side was wrong.
The Battlefield: Feldhahn Basin
The skies above the Feldhahn Basin were transformed into an iron stormfront. Dozens of warplanes, powered by oil, magic, and madness, pierced through the clouds. The air buzzed with the electric screech of arc-bombs, runic missiles, and the desperate prayers of soldiers below.
Herzl stood on the rooftop of a burning outpost, his rifle strapped, eyes scanning the chaos.
BOOM.
A Republic skybomb struck the northern defense grid, shattering the inn-crystals that powered the barrier towers.
BOOM.
A Kingdom twin-engine fighter crashed into a fuel depot below, engulfing both friend and foe in a sea of flame.
"Gods," whispered Anna beside him, her coat flapping wildly. "They're not fighting a war anymore. They're feeding it."
Supply Lines and Foreign Devils
Deep behind the lines, emissaries from neutral nations watched from polished, armored convoys.
The Volgrathi Syndicate, a desert empire known for soul-trading and black-iron weaponry, supplied aether-igniters to the Republic.
Meanwhile, The Virean Empire, rich in mountains and myths, sold Wyrmglass Bombs to the Kingdom — illegal munitions that turned oxygen into liquid fire.
Neither side seemed to care about treaties anymore.
This wasn't a war for justice.
It was a war for who got to write the history books.
Ground Hell: Replicants vs. Golems
As the skies wept fire, the ground buckled with monsters.
The Republic's Replicants stormed the ruined villages — bio-fused beasts with rifles fused into their forearms. They were relentless. Soulless.
In retaliation, the Kingdom released the Golemic Order — massive constructs made of stone and sorrow, each one bound to the soul of a fallen hero, driven by vengeance alone.
Steel clashed against stone. Magic against flesh. It wasn't a battle anymore.
It was a funeral for peace.
A Twist of Fire and Lies
Mid-battle, a Republic bomber dropped a black container marked with a Virean glyph — a glyph only the Kingdom used.
Anna stared at it through binoculars.
"That's… that's our design."
Grim's eyes narrowed. "They're framing us."
Within seconds, the black device released a torrent of necro-gas — outlawed during the Treaty of Silence. Soldiers caught within screamed as their skin melted, nerves ignited from the inside.
A Republic broadcast soon followed:
"The Kingdom has unleashed forbidden weapons upon civilians. The world must not ignore this atrocity."
Herzl's heart dropped.
"It wasn't us. They used our supplier's bombs to—"
"They don't care," Grim said coldly. "They want to make us monsters. It's easier to bomb a monster than a man."
The Death of Morality
That night, the capital cities of both empires burned.
Volgoth, seat of the Republic, was struck by Kingdom shadowcrafts. 17,000 dead. No survivors in the eastern quarter.
Rathenberg, crown jewel of the Kingdom, was leveled by mirrorbombs. The prince's cousin perished in the fire.
In every trench, soldier, and civilian's heart — a simple truth emerged:
No one would win this war. Only survivors would remain.
Herzl's Revelation
Herzl wandered the wreckage at night — bomb craters glowing, ash falling like snow. He found a child clutching a melted soldier's helmet.
He knelt beside her.
"What was his name?" Herzl asked gently.
"Does it matter?" she said hollowly.
He said nothing.
From behind him, Grim's voice: "You feel it now. Don't you?"
"Feel what?" Herzl replied, eyes empty.
"That none of this will end unless we burn the idea of sides entirely."
End of Chapter 11