The western border—dawn no longer brought light.
The sky burned red with magic and gunfire. The vast plains had become an iron hellscape — where the kingdoms of Darama and Sylveris poured every ounce of strength into the opening war.
Gigantic armored war machines from Darama roared, their iron treads grinding the stone beneath them. Overhead, dozens of floating mana airships hovered, spitting red beams like falling stars, crashing into enemy lines. On the other side, Sylveris' mages retaliated with elemental barrages — pillars of flame, ice, and lightning interwoven into a shimmering wall that shielded their troops.
Shouts, horns, and explosions of magic blended into a single chaotic symphony.
The sky tore open with every blast; the ground quaked beneath marching boots.
Each step left a burnt scar, every spell thickened the air with scorching heat.
On the high ridge, Darama's crimson banner clashed with Sylveris' silver one — two flames of hatred dancing in the wind. Amid the rumbling cannons, King Rio II sat atop his armored beast, eyes burning like fire. Yet within that fire, a memory flickered — one that had never truly faded.
Ten years ago —
He had been young, a prince full of ambition, trapped in a palace of gold and jealousy.
That night, under moonlight cold as steel, a stranger in a black cloak appeared in his private chamber.
The man did not bow — he only smiled thinly.
"Your Highness… you desire the throne, don't you?"
Rio frowned.
"Who are you to speak such words?"
The stranger shrugged lightly.
"Merely one who can see a king's future. But that future will never come… as long as you still cherish your brothers."
Rio's voice hardened.
"What are you implying?"
"They will betray you. They will take the crown before you ever touch it.
Do not expect loyalty from blood.
Act before you are betrayed."
Moonlight revealed the man's face — his eyes were hollow, swirling black voids like bottomless pits.
"To become the ruler of the continent," he whispered, "you must offer a sacrifice.
Not your enemies' blood… but your family's."
That night, the palace burned. The marble steps were drenched in royal blood.
By dawn, Rio placed the crown upon his head — and his eyes were no longer human.
The roar of mana cannons dragged Rio II back to the present. The war wind whipped his crimson cloak, his armor gleaming like a god of war reborn.
Behind him stood six figures, the deadliest weapons Darama had ever forged.
Lusia, the storm mage, silver-haired and electric-eyed, held a staff humming with thunder.
With a single thought, the air split open — lightning roared, rending the sky.
Next to her stood Anate, the woman in violet robes, her gaze as sharp as the cubes of space floating around her. Each cube was a gateway — twisting attacks or pulling comrades from death itself.
Reta, the axeblade warrior, slammed his boot into the ground, muscles rippling like steel cords. None had survived once he closed the distance.
Beside him, Cos, the silent swordsman, slid his blade back into its sheath — his calm so absolute it was terrifying. One stroke of that sword had once cut through an entire battalion.
At the rear crouched the feline twins — Mana and Mane, half-beasts of speed and shadow.
They never struck from the front. When their prey blinked, their claws were already at its throat.
And then, apart from them all, wrapped in twisting darkness, stood the sixth —
known only to the king as "Shadow."
The air around him warped; even light was devoured. A cold wind followed him — death's passing breath.
Rio II smiled — the smile of a man willing to burn the world to reach his purpose.
Through the storm of war, Lusia stepped forward, lightning flickering along her hair. She bowed close to the king's ear.
"Your Majesty, it's time to divide our forces. Marching straight will leave too many openings — and too many who might escape."
Rio's crimson eyes turned to her.
"You have a plan?"
She nodded calmly.
"I'll head south with Mana and Mane — to the port of Virdel.
It's the only sea route left for Sylveris to retreat. We'll cut them off before they see the horizon."
She glanced toward the others.
"Reta and Cos will circle north, joining the iron cavalry there.
If they break through the Palden Range, we'll close the pincer and seize the capital of Sylveris."
Anate spoke, voice cold as a blade.
"And me?"
Lusia's gaze lingered.
"You and him…" — she nodded toward the silent mist where Shadow stood —
"…will move ahead. There's a forest on the army's route — and a massive tree at its heart. Scouts sensed unstable mana there.
I want to know what's sleeping under that soil before we tread on it."
Rio II's eyes swept across them all — his six ultimate weapons, each bound to him by oath and soul.
Then he said, low and thunderous:
"Go, then. But remember — whoever stands in your way, god or man, must kneel."
Lusia bowed.
"As you command, my king."
The wind screamed through the battlefield.
Smoke and dust merged, staining the heavens red.
Metal clashed, magic detonated, raining fire and blood over the plains.
The six knights of Darama galloped out, scattering like sparks from a forge. Their runes burned bright as they disappeared into the chaos.
From the king's shadow, a figure emerged — a man clad in dark frost.
"Yui," said Rio II softly.
"You'll remain with me."
The man bowed. His blade shimmered with frozen breath.
"No one shall touch you, my king."
Rio nodded.
"Until the time comes — you are my shield."
At the northern front, red and silver banners collided.
Thousands clashed like twin tidal waves.
Magic and steel howled as the land itself split open.
On a ridge of ash, Rysaz, commander of Sylveris' vanguard, raised her sword high.
"Hold the line! Shields up — form the barrier!"
A sudden killing intent tore through the air. Instinct screamed — she leapt back just as a colossal axe smashed the ground where she had stood.
Before she could recover, a thin blade pierced her shoulder plate — not deep enough to wound, but enough to throw her off balance.
Two men stepped from the smoke — Reta, axe gleaming, and Cos, sword drawn.
"Nice reflexes," Reta grinned.
"So, the famed protector of Sylveris herself."
Rysaz steadied her stance.
"Two dogs of Rio II, huh?"
Cos' smile didn't reach his eyes.
"Dogs or not… as long as we bite the right throat."
Her glare sharpened, blue mana flaring around her.
"Arrogant bastards."
Reta glanced at Cos, chuckling.
"Wanna bet?"
"Five minutes," said Cos calmly.
"Deal."
They lunged together — axe and sword cutting through the air.
Rysaz met them head-on, her magic bursting outward, a storm of blue flame.
And so began the duel of blood and thunder on the burning frontier.
Meanwhile, near the southern port, waves crashed violently against the hull of a small ship.
The air reeked of salt — and smoke.
Far ahead, land finally appeared… but instead of city lights, pillars of fire and black clouds rose into the dawn.
Sill gripped the rail, voice trembling.
"No… it can't be…"
Kael said nothing. His eyes reflected the red-stained horizon — ships burning, mana barriers collapsing, thunder cannons roaring.
The war had already reached them.
No one spoke. The wind screamed through broken masts — a funeral dirge for mankind.
Senki whispered,
"We escaped one abyss… only to sail into another."
Then, a playful voice drifted down from above.
"Pretty ship you've got! But tell me — how's it sailing without any wind?"
They looked up.
Perched casually on the mast were two small figures, legs swinging, sunlight glinting off white cat ears and slender tails.
Mana — the boy, grinning wide — and Mane, his twin sister, smiling sweetly yet cruelly.
"Sister Lusia's too slow," Mane sighed. "So we came first."
"And look," Mana smirked. "They don't even know they're about to be caught."
Kael tensed, fingers brushing his sword.
"Who are you?"
Before he could draw, threads of glowing mana snaked around his wrists.
Senmi and Renar tried to react — too late. A flash of silver, and they were hanging midair, caught by hooked chains of magic.
"Don't move," Mana said lightly, pressing a finger to his lips.
"We only came to say hello."
The air thickened — the peace shattered in an instant.
Deep within the forest, silence reigned.
Leaves swallowed the light, only thin silver beams filtered through the canopy. The only sounds were the crunch of dead leaves and the faint rustle of a cloak brushing against bark.
"Ridiculous," Anate muttered, glancing sideways.
"Lusia really doesn't know how to plan. Splitting us up like this — and pairing me with this… weirdo."
Beside her walked Shadow, silent as the grave. His cloak devoured the light, his steps left no sound.
She sighed.
"If only I'd gone with Reta instead. Handsome, strong — and at least he talks."
Shadow tilted his head slightly. If he heard, he didn't care.
They arrived before a colossal tree — trunk so massive it would take ten men to circle it, its bark carved with spiral steps.
Someone had once lived here.
"Someone built this?" she murmured.
When Shadow placed a foot on the first step, she raised a hand to stop him.
"Let me go first. I'll scout alone."
Her tone was calm, but her eyes darted aside — clearly, she just didn't want to climb beside him.
Shadow paused, then nodded. The darkness beneath his hood rippled faintly as he stepped back.
Anate inhaled, then ascended. The higher she climbed, the colder the air grew. Near the top, she found a hollow chamber carved inside the trunk — vast, empty, and dark as night.
"The owner of this place…" she muttered. "What a bizarre taste in homes."
Mana light gathered at her fingertips, forming luminous cubes. She raised her hand, ready to blast the chamber apart—
A laugh echoed softly.
Gentle. Seductive. Icy cold.
Anate froze. She turned slowly toward the sound.
It came from above.
She looked up—
On the ceiling, a small girl hung upside down, long hair dangling like a curtain.
Her eyes gleamed crimson in the darkness, fixed on Anate — unblinking.
And then, the smile came again.
"Hello there, little kitten."