The Battle of Conilmadran
The siege tightened. Imperial legions joined those already encircling NARAN.Fortunately, reinforcements from the Sultanate appeared on the horizon — dozens of ships striking the Imperial vessels with cannon fire, forcing all Imperial ships to retreat.
QAYS led the final supply line, rushing the elderly toward the small boats docked at the harbor, while the fire from the monstrosities drew closer, casting flickering shadows over the crumbling city.
At that moment, TIR and NUH returned from the front line, their bodies covered in wounds, yet their eyes still burning with resolve.
NUH (gasping for breath):"The city is burning… everything… the wall has fallen."
TIR (in a deadly calm tone):"Not everything… as long as we breathe, we won't fall."
But time was not on their side.
The city's districts were overrun by Draughtborn and the monstrosities. Even the Draughtborn Slayers couldn't stop them, suffering heavy losses instead. Soldiers and civilians worked together to block the streets with carts and barrels — even oil barrels were set aflame across the roads. But Arkanis intervened, extinguished the fires, and attacked both soldiers and civilians.
In a horrifying scene, one of the Arkanis grabbed a civilian, slammed him to the ground, and forced a stream of water into his mouth until his head burst. He shouted to the remaining defenders:"Surrender, and we won't kill you!"
One civilian threw a stone at him — it missed. His face twisted in disgust."Kill them all!"
From behind him, dozens of Draughtborn charged at the soldiers and townsfolk.
From the rubble, JHON emerged — his face smeared with ash and blood, yet his body radiating a suffocating watery aura, a swirling dance of moisture forming around him.
JHON (furiously):"Enough running… how long will you cling to hope?"
He charged forward, a spear of water forming in his hand, woven from steam and blood, thrusting it toward NUH.
TIR intercepted at the last second, blocking with his sword — but the force tore him backward, slamming him into a shattered wall.
TIR (grimacing in pain):"Run, NUH! Don't look back!"
NUH refused. He ran to TIR, pulling at his wounded arm — but found blood gushing from his side.
NUH (voice trembling):"I won't leave you… I won't run alone."
TIR looked at him with half-lidded eyes, then shoved him away with force:
TIR:"There's no point in both of us dying…"
The second strike from JHON came — but an arrow sliced through the air. JHON tried to form a water shield, but the arrow pierced it, striking his shoulder.
A Slayer unit had arrived, led by a young woman named Reema — her eyes filled with ash, but her gaze sharp as steel.
Reema:"Fall back! The ships are waiting!"
They seized the precious seconds, dragging the wounded TIR, and rushed toward the river.
The Final Departure
At the harbor, the evacuation ships had already begun to sail. Children and survivors were pulled aboard, faces streaked with tears, dirt, and soot. QAYS was the last to board, watching the flames devour the towers.
NUH, glancing back, muttered:"They all died… and only we…"
TIR, his eyes sinking into unconsciousness:"You are… the beginning."
The ships departed.Behind them, NARAN fell.
And in the heart of the flames, JHON stood, watching the ruins as he whispered to himself:
JHON:"This is not a victory… but a beginning."
Somewhere far away… a storm was forming.
On the deck of the last ship, young NUH gripped TIR's sword, closing his eyes… and in the shadows beneath his eyelids… he saw the beginning of a path that would never forgive.
Inside the Sultanate's Ships – A Spark of Rebellion at Sea
The ships rocked under their weight, crammed with people, the air inside their holds thick with the scent of blood, salt, and smoke.
QAYS moved among the wounded and exhausted soldiers, his eyes searching for even the smallest space to fit another man. Every corner, every wooden stair, every nook — taken.
A shout:"No more room! No more!"
QAYS (angrily):"Open the rear supply hold! We store lives there, not crates!"
Before the sailors could move, the noble Helcar appeared, wearing his embroidered cloak, a gleaming sword at his side that looked unused.
Helcar (arrogantly):"That hold is reserved for wounded high officers and nobles… the remaining soldiers? No room for them."
QAYS (stepping forward heavily):"My soldiers have been bleeding for three days in NARAN without rest… if they are not counted among your nobles, then count them among your heroes!"
Helcar (narrowing his eyes):"Protocol is clear. No chaos. No exceptions."
QAYS (voice low, like knives):"Was there protocol when the beasts tore through our gates? Did the Empire hand us a code of honor before ripping out our hearts?!"
Helcar (half-step back):"Mind your rank, boy!"
QAYS (shouting, gesturing around):"Rank?! These soldiers didn't hide behind palaces! They buried their brothers with their own hands! You'll open that hold… or you'll be the one thrown out!"
Tension… hands drifted toward sword hilts. Silence choked the air.
Then SERAN appeared, walking in calmly, his voice quiet yet sharp enough to cut the atmosphere.
SERAN:"Shut your mouth, Helcar. Or I swear I'll open that hold… with your head."
Helcar (backing away):"You'll be branded traitors…"
SERAN (coldly):"We'd rather be traitors… than leave our brothers in NARAN's flames."
QAYS took command of one of the ships and turned it back toward NARAN.As they neared the city, they could see the destruction — a nightmare. Shattered walls, howling monstrosities, a city of the dead. The ship anchored behind the rocks, and a Draughtborn Slayer was sent to search for survivors.
While NARAN's flames devoured its outskirts, LAREM advanced through the back alleys, his body swaying from exhaustion, sword stained with blood, his men retreating for the final withdrawal.
But he wasn't looking back… he was searching.
A woman's scream from inside a building:"Please… if anyone's left… save my son…!"
He pushed open the door of a half-burned house. The roof was beginning to collapse, the walls blackened with soot. In the corner — beneath a broken table — he saw a small boy, no more than four, his face covered in ash and rags, whimpering faintly.
LAREM moved slowly, removed his upper armor to free his hands, reached out, lifted the child to his chest — feeling his warmth like a fragment of the burning city's heart.
He looked around… no mother, no father, nothing but wreckage.
Suddenly, the roof partially collapsed, flames bursting from the wall.
He leapt out of the house, cradling the boy, rolling on the ground as the fire chased them to the doorway.
He emerged… still searching… but there was no time.
He ran toward the ships, holding the child, his face hard as steel.
After sunset, dozens of shadows approached the ship.
LAREM arrived at that moment, face grim, carrying the boy wrapped in rags, followed by dozens of civilians who thought they had been abandoned.
QAYS (to LAREM):"You're late."
LAREM (with a broken smile):"I didn't want to leave… before the last soldier."
The sound of oars grew louder… the ship began to move.
From the windows, they watched NARAN's final flame ignite — the last tower fell, the last scream rose with the smoke.
SERAN (whispering):"I swear this won't be the end."
QAYS:"No… it's the beginning. And we will burn their thrones, as they burned our stones."
And as the ships cut through the sea, leaving NARAN's fires behind, the soldiers carried their wounds… but their eyes were fixed ahead — toward vengeance.