The Blood Moon's glow had reached its zenith. The entire sky was crimson, a suffocating hue that bled into the ocean's waves and cast eerie shadows across Sanctuary Isle. For hours, the horde had thrown itself against Kane's defenses, but now, in the final stretch, their desperation took on a maddened edge.
That was when the Crimson Ward fully awakened.
A pulse rippled outward from the island's center, the fused Blood Moon Relic and Sigil answering the apocalyptic call. A faint barrier shimmered like a mirage, so thin it seemed almost unreal—yet every mutant felt it. The effect wasn't physical but instinctual, an invisible weight pressing down on their corrupted cores.
Beasts that had charged endlessly suddenly faltered, snarling and screeching as they clawed at the sand instead of rushing forward. Fliers stuttered in midair, circling with hesitation instead of diving in suicide runs. Even leviathans in the depths slowed, their advance sluggish as primal terror gnawed at them.
"Just as I thought," Kane muttered, arms crossed as he observed from the command deck. His sharp eyes reflected the red shimmer of the ward. "They fear it. Even madness has limits."
But hesitation wasn't safety. The creatures still came, albeit slower. The battlefield was his to shape.
"Release the toys." Kane's voice was calm, yet it rippled with authority.
High above, compartments in the assault drones hissed open. Out dropped bundles that spun downward, unfurling midair—an odd assortment of forms: a stuffed rabbit, tin soldiers, and a wind-up robot. To anyone else, it would've looked laughable.
Until they changed.
The moment the figures hit the air, they swelled. The rabbit stretched into a towering nightmare plush, its stitched mouth curving into a crescent grin, button eyes glowing red. The toy soldiers slammed into rank formation with clockwork precision, muskets and bayonets gleaming as they leveled their weapons. The robot grew to the size of a carriage, gears churning, steam hissing from its joints as it stomped the ground with metallic thunder.
They hit the mainland like a meteor strike. Dust plumed, the ground cracked, and then—silence, broken only by the rising squeals of mutants.
Reina's toys came to life.
With gleeful roars, they charged into the horde. The rabbit tore through flesh with claws that seemed stitched from shadows. The soldiers fired in coordinated bursts, bayonets stabbing with deadly rhythm. The robot swung its iron fists like piledrivers, crushing beasts into the earth.
Each kill pulsed energy into them, mana swirling around their forms. Kane's eyes narrowed.
"They're adapting." He smirked. "Growing."
It was no accident—Reina's bond fueled them. The more her toys fought, the more experience they gained, their bodies subtly hardening, attacks hitting harder. For the first time, Kane watched his sister's creations evolve like soldiers.
But toys were not enough.
From Sanctuary's gates thundered a different tide: the Ironbound Legion.
Hundreds of skeletal warriors in tarnished plate marched in perfect formation, their shields locking, their weapons gleaming with crimson runes carved into their bones. They did not run. They did not roar. They simply marched, a steady drumbeat of death.
The mutants screamed as the Legion slammed into them. Shields braced, absorbing the impact, and then the Ironbound retaliated in brutal unison. Axes rose and fell like a pendulum, swords slashed in arcs of light, spears punched through bodies like paper.
It was not a battle. It was a butcher's work.
The land was stained in moments, the Legion pressing forward with mechanical precision. And behind their advance, Kane felt something stirring—the faint tether of necromancy feeding back to him. Each kill they made added weight to his command. Every corpse harvested grew his potential army.
"They march, and the world bends," Kane whispered, a strange pride swelling in his chest. "This is only their first campaign."
Meanwhile, offshore, the island's naval fleet thundered.
The Vanguard and Stormbreaker opened fire, their upgraded turrets belching destruction. Twin cannon blasts ripped flying mutants out of the air, their charred corpses tumbling into the sea. Artillery roared in rhythmic fury, each volley erasing hundreds in brilliant explosions.
"Target the coast," Kane had ordered, and so they did. Anything that dared crawl too close to Sanctuary was obliterated by shrapnel and fire.
Above, scout drones rained clusters of explosives, the bombs detonating two seconds after impact, carving craters into the writhing hordes. Assault drones, their fire rate doubled, became a storm of bullets and mana bolts, tearing winged monsters into clouds of gore.
And below, the Erebus prowled silently. Torpedoes streaked into the depths, detonating with thunderous eruptions that ripped leviathans apart. Reports streamed back: mutation density in the ocean rising. A grim reminder of what was brewing beneath the waves.
Still, Kane showed no fear. Only calculation.
The battlefield had become a living tapestry of carnage:
Crimson Ward suppressing the enemy's madness.
Toys carving chaos with surreal glee.
Ironbound Legion pressing forward like an iron tide.
Drones raining mechanical death with newfound upgrades.
Warships reducing the sea and sky to firestorms.
Submarine tearing apart the horrors below.
All of it tied to one man.
Kane stood at the center, a warlord not merely commanding—but orchestrating. His every order echoed through armies, steel, and spell. His will was the axis upon which the battlefield turned.
The Blood Moon's final hour had become more than survival. It was domination.
And across the world, other survivors watching the crimson broadcast would soon realize—Sanctuary Isle was no mere safe zone. It was a kingdom being born.
The world was watching.
The system's global broadcast lit the skies of every safe zone, overlaying the blood-red moon with floating runes that tallied the slaughter.
[Blood Moon Ranking Update]
1st – Sanctuary Isle (Kane Wylder): 94,781 Kills
2nd – Blacksteel Bastion: 71,420 Kills
3rd – Silverfang Hold: 65,903 Kills
4th – Dawnspire Citadel: 61,237 Kills
5th – Ironclad Refuge: 59,510 Kills
Murmurs turned into roars of disbelief across safe zones.
"Impossible…""How can one stronghold slaughter so many?""That's more than entire armies combined—how!?"
Some leaders gnashed their teeth, others stared hollow-eyed at the gap widening with each passing second.
Because Kane wasn't done.
Missile drones screamed across the sky, twin payloads slamming into clusters of fused monstrosities near the mainland shore. Each explosion vaporized hundreds, numbers on the board leaping in real time.
The Vanguard and Stormbreaker unleashed relentless barrages, their upgraded turrets hammering flying abominations until the air itself seemed aflame. Every broadside crushed another swarm.
On the ground, the Ironbound Legion surged forward, a tide of skeletal steel that cut through mutants like paper. Their shields locked, spears thrust, swords tore, and the tally soared.
Above them, Reina's toys reveled in destruction. The rabbit leapt, tearing into winged horrors midair. The robot pulverized a hulking beast into the dirt, gears screaming with joy. The toy soldiers fired volley after volley, their muskets like thunder, their bayonets piercing eyes and throats with eerie precision.
And every kill… every slaughter… fed into the counter.
"Push harder!" roared the commander of Blacksteel Bastion. "We cannot lose second place!" His warriors fought desperately against tide after tide, but the despair was clear.
"Damn it!" cursed a mage in Silverfang Hold. "They're widening the gap again!" Their defensive lines strained, mana spent, corpses piling.
Everywhere, other safe zones bled to stay afloat in the rankings. For them, the Blood Moon was survival. For Kane, it was opportunity.
His kill count surged past 95,000.
The Blood Moon pulsed, and the earth itself trembled.
From the mainland, a final wave surged—nearly 20,000 more mutants pouring across the ruined city streets, driven by primal instinct to throw themselves at the Crimson Ward.
Claws raked. Wings thundered. Roars shook the coastline.
The world held its breath.
But Kane only smirked.
"Ten minutes left," he muttered, eyes flashing. "Plenty of time."
He raised his hand, issuing a single command."All units—fire at will. Don't hold back."
The island erupted into symphony.
Drones howled overhead, unleashing payloads in rapid succession.
Warships thundered, their cannons drowning the roars of mutants.
Ironbound marched over corpses, cutting down everything in sight.
Toys laughed and tore, their strange glee echoing like a nightmare lullaby.
The slaughter was absolute.
Every second ticked louder.Every kill brought Kane's counter closer to 100,000.Every stronghold outside of Sanctuary realized the same truth:
No one could compete.
[Blood Moon Remaining Time: 00:09:59]
[Blood Moon Remaining Time: 00:08:30]
[Blood Moon Remaining Time: 00:06:45]
The monsters screamed, the world trembled, and still Sanctuary Isle stood unshaken.
The timer bled down to its last numbers.
[Blood Moon Remaining Time: 00:01:00]
[Blood Moon Remaining Time: 00:00:30]
[Blood Moon Remaining Time: 00:00:10]
All across the world, survivors clutched their weapons, eyes wide, as the crimson light of the moon began to shatter.
[Blood Moon Event – Countdown Complete][00:00:00]
The screen went black.
And silence fell.
The Blood Moon vanished.
For the first time in hours, the world went silent.No roars.No shrieks.No clash of steel or thunder of cannons.
Only the sound of wind whispering through ruined streets and the faint crackle of fire devouring the corpses of fallen monsters.
The crimson haze that had blanketed the skies fractured like broken glass, bleeding away into pale moonlight. Survivors everywhere froze, weapons still raised, waiting for the next wave that never came.
And then… the system's unseen voice swept through every mind, heavy and absolute.
A tremor rippled across the globe. The ground itself seemed to acknowledge the words spoken, though no one dared repeat them aloud.
In every fortress, safe zone, and bastion, soldiers and survivors collapsed where they stood.Some laughed. Some wept.Most simply fell to their knees, trembling with exhaustion.
"...It's over.""We… we survived.""I can't feel my arms…"
The once-roaring defenses of bastions dimmed. Cannons powered down. Towers flickered with fading mana. The defenders slumped against walls stained with both monster ichor and human blood.
Even in victory, the cost was heavy. Thousands lay dead in every stronghold. Tens of thousands injured. The Blood Moon had spared no one its merciless trial.
But on Kane's island, the atmosphere was different.
Not relief. Not despair.Something sharper.
Discipline.
Ironbound soldiers, dented and bloodied, stood silently in rows, shields grounded, awaiting orders. Their glowing eyes burned steady, unyielding.
Above them, drones hovered in quiet formation, their payloads spent, their hulls singed but intact. The warships Vanguard and Stormbreaker floated like titans at rest, smoke trailing from their barrels.
Reina sat atop the back of her toy rabbit, giggling softly as the toy soldiers lined up like a parade, saluting her with eerie precision. The robot knelt beside them, its frame cracked, one arm sparking, but its optics still bright.
Kane stood at the center, surveying the sea of corpses blanketing both island and mainland. His eyes glowed faintly, the mark of the Blood Moon still flickering at the edge of his vision.
He raised his hand.
"Rise."
The corpses stirred.
Every clawed beast, every fused mutant, every leviathan that had fallen under Sanctuary's fire began to dissolve into black essence. Flesh shriveled, bones clattered, and armored skeletons pulled themselves free from the husks of their former forms.
One by one, they marched toward him.
The Ironbound Legion expanded, rank upon rank swelling as thousands of new skeletal warriors took their place in perfect formation.
From the smallest twisted hound to hulking brutes the size of siege towers, all bent their knee to Kane.
His army, already vast, now swelled into something that dwarfed even the tide they had faced.
Across the world, the survivors rested, broken but alive.On Sanctuary Isle, Kane did not rest.
He forged.
Every fallen creature was fuel. Every corpse was another soldier. Every victory another step toward absolute dominance.
The Blood Moon had ended.The strong would lick their wounds.The weak would crumble.
But Kane Wylder stood upon the corpses of ninety-five thousand slain, his Crimson Ward still humming faintly with residual power, his island untouched, his army only growing stronger.
The silence was not peace.It was a warning.
The world would awaken tomorrow to the system's rewards.But tonight, the island of Sanctuary stood shrouded in eerie quiet, its master smiling as legions of the dead rose to answer his call.