The Return of the Winged Clan
At this life-or-death moment—
A clear, long, soul-cleansing horn call suddenly rang out from the edge of the sky, as though it could wash away all darkness and despair!
The sound carried a strange power. Every living being on the battlefield—friend and foe alike—involuntarily paused. All heads turned toward the source.
The thick clouds at the horizon were suddenly dispersed by endless pure light. A vast, majestic army emerged from the blue sky like celestial troops stepping out of legend! At their head was the Winged Clan's King—Wyrselon! He wore a simple yet dignified moon-white robe embroidered with exquisite silver threads tracing the paths of constellations. His waist-length silver hair flowed like frozen moonlight behind him. His face was serene and profound, ageless, holding only endless wisdom and the weight of years in his eyes. Six broad, elegant wings spread fully behind him—holy silver-blue gradient feathers resembling a deep night sky draped across his back. Starlight sparkled along the edges, majestic and powerful. Beside him stood thirty-six four-winged guardians, each radiating calm, sea-deep aura with varied wing forms. Behind them followed fifty thousand elite winged warriors—superbly equipped, eagle-sharp eyes blazing with high morale!
"In the name of the Lightfeather Vault! Winged kin—follow me! Aid our allies! Purge this evil!" Wyrselon's voice was calm yet carried supreme authority and power, clearly reaching every ear on the battlefield.
His gaze pierced the chaos and instantly locked onto the pure-white figure locked in fierce combat with Celestia. Endless sorrow and thirty years of suppressed rage erupted like a volcano in his eyes: "Little sister! Wing Seris! Thirty years ago, you led an elite winged squad to reinforce the southern front. What exactly happened?! The entire Lightfeather Vault mourned you as fallen in battle! Who could have imagined… you would fall so far, joining the vile Doomsday Rebirth! You even exploited Celestia's pure feelings toward Aelios, manipulating her to lead those twisted monsters to slaughter your own homeland and massacre your own kin! Tell me—why?!"
Wing Seris flicked away Celestia's thunder spear and turned. A sneer of utter contempt curled her lips: "Why? My dear brother—the answer is simple. When you have the strength to defeat me… then come and ask again! Now show me this so-called kingly power of yours!"
"Stubborn to the end!" Wyrselon's heart ached beyond measure. No more words. His six silver-blue wings thundered violently. He transformed into a dazzling silver-blue comet streaking across the sky, hurtling straight toward Wing Seris! Wing Seris fanned her pure-white wings; holy light rapidly condensed into several massive light spears that screamed toward him. Two figures embodying the pinnacle of winged power collided with cataclysmic force! Terrifying energy aftershocks raged outward, instantly shredding countless unfortunate variant winged troops into bloody mist! Wyrselon's stellar power surged—countless silver-blue light ribbons forming cosmic vortices, attempting to coil and bind Wing Seris. Wing Seris compressed holy light into an unbreakable cage of radiance, counter-devouring Wyrselon's stellar streams. Wyrselon chopped downward with a hand-blade; starlight gleamed razor-sharp along his wing edges like the keenest blade, instantly tearing through Wing Seris's holy shield and leaving a bone-deep gash on her arm. Wing Seris endured the pain and countered—light spears struck like venomous serpents, narrowly grazing Wyrselon's ribs and drawing beads of blood. Celestia joined without hesitation; her wind-thunder power resonated strangely and perfectly with Wyrselon's vast stellar might. Her Wind-Thunder Dance grew even more unpredictable, focusing on shredding Wing Seris's wings. Under the combined pressure of three supreme forces, Wing Seris finally began retreating step by step—her holy light no longer as blindingly radiant.
Meanwhile, the newly arrived winged army displayed astonishing combat discipline. Clearly having learned bitter lessons from the earlier surprise assault on Lightfeather Vault by variant winged troops, they had developed and drilled entirely new tactics targeting the variants' attack patterns and weaknesses. They fought in tight trios, forming highly efficient miniature battle arrays: one warrior wielded a specially curved light shield focused on blocking the variants' lethal acid spit and chaotic energy shots; another wielded long spears or swords shimmering with high-frequency vibrating energy fields, precisely slicing at the variants' relatively vulnerable wing-root joints and exposed energy cores; the third provided agile support—casting binding light rings to restrict movement or scattering healing glows to rapidly mend comrades' wounds. This highly targeted, efficient coordination immediately threw the once-dominant variant winged swarms into chaos and passivity. Casualties began skyrocketing!
Wolfe and Wing Seris were simultaneously trapped in desperate sieges. Even Wolfe's ferocious shadow greataxe could not withstand Wind Staff Anber's relentless struggle and TISK's increasingly ferocious, devastating ice-fire hammer strikes—his wounds accumulating rapidly. Wing Seris, under assault from both her brother and Celestia, saw her pure-white wings torn and broken in multiple places; her holy light rapidly dimmed. Almost simultaneously, both let out anxious, furious roars:
"Siste! Reinforce us! Now!"
Siste—always in the rear maintaining her blood-magic ritual—flashed a strange glint in her blood-red eyes. She and her surrounding blood-elf mages instantly changed their chant cadence. Both hands raised high; two exceptionally thick blood-red pillars—seemingly formed of pure life essence—shot across the battlefield, precisely injecting into Wolfe and Wing Seris!
"Blood Essence Gift • Berserk Eruption!"
Empowered by the massive external infusion, Wolfe's body swelled grotesquely like it was being inflated—muscles bulging obscenely, nearly bursting his black armor. His eyes turned blood-red; all reason vanished, leaving only pure destruction lust! His strength and speed exploded once again. Every swing of his greataxe carried space-tearing black gales. Anber and TISK—who had barely been able to contain him—suddenly felt crushing pressure; they staggered back repeatedly, tiger mouths splitting open! Wing Seris's damaged light wings were instantly stained with an ominous, viscous blood hue. Her holy light attacks now carried evil life-corroding blood energy—sacred and profane forces bizarrely fused, their power doubled. She temporarily reversed her disadvantage, even forcing Wyrselon and Celestia to retreat and avoid her edge.
"We must defeat them completely first! No more chances!" TISK spat blood and roared. He exchanged a glance with the panting Wind Staff Anber; perfect battlefield rapport formed instantly.
Anber took a deep breath. No longer seeking kills, she poured her lifetime of cultivation into her staff and began spinning at extreme speed! The staff traced profound trajectories; cyan wind power compressed and condensed into a powerful vortex domain filled with countless cutting wind blades, temporarily trapping the berserk Wolfe and severely restricting his movement! "TISK!" Anber shouted, forehead veins bulging—she was clearly straining to maintain the domain.
"Leave it to me!" TISK roared in response, unleashing the power of the "Burning Vine" within him to its fullest extent without reservation! The icy blue and crimson light blazed brighter than ever before. The two diametrically opposed energies did not simply overlap, but began to intertwine and spiral forward, ultimately merging perfectly and wrapping around the "Earthshaker" warhammer!The ancient dwarven defensive runes on the hammer ignited one by one, humming as though answering their master's call and resolve! "Secret Forging Fury • Ice-Fire Finale!" He stomped both feet, launching himself skyward like a cannonball. Every ounce of his strength, his craftsman's will, his heart's determination to protect his home poured into this earth-shattering strike. The warhammer fell like a meteor from the heavens—carrying the ultimate destructive power of ice and fire—crashing straight toward the head of the wind-trapped, berserk Wolfe!
Wolfe let out an inhuman roar. Instinctively raising "City Breaker," dark energy and Siste's infused blood fury wove into a thick black-red dual shield! BOOM!!!!!!
An ear-splitting explosion nearly ruptured every nearby eardrum! Ice-fire extremes and shadow-blood shield clashed and annihilated each other in a terrifying blast. The spherical shockwave blasted outward, hurling every soldier—friend and foe—within dozens of meters into the air! Wolfe's "City Breaker" gave an unbearable wail; clear cracks appeared on its once-impregnable blade! Wolfe himself was smashed to his knees by this all-out, rune-empowered strike—internal organs displaced, agonizing pain ripping through him. A mouthful of blood mixed with organ fragments sprayed violently outward!
"Now! Wind Fang • Breaking Point!" Anber's voice emerged like a phantom from the still-spinning wind vortex! Seizing this fleeting, perfect opening, she shot forward like lightning. The tip of her rune staff condensed an ultra-compressed, almost black-cyan penetrating energy spike—ignoring Wolfe's gorget armor, it stabbed precisely into the tiny gap exposed when he knelt and vomited blood!
Pfft—!
The energy spike—carrying Anber's full power and will—pierced straight through Wolfe's throat without resistance!
Wolfe's massive body froze instantly. His berserk blood-red eyes solidified in disbelief. He slowly lowered his head, staring at the cyan staff tip protruding from his throat. His mouth opened, but only wet, gurgling sounds emerged. The bloodlust in his eyes drained away like receding tide, leaving only dead gray. This former dwarven hero, later shameless traitor, finally collapsed—carrying his ambition and sins—onto the very land he once swore to protect with his life, yet personally brought war to, paying the ultimate price for his chosen path.
Almost simultaneously, the aerial battle also reached its conclusion. Blood-infused and frenzied, Wing Seris thrust light spears madly—only to be deftly neutralized one after another by Wyrselon's even vaster, more exquisite stellar vortices. Celestia relentlessly exploited shadow leaps for flank attacks, finally succeeding in tearing through multiple already-damaged wing roots, throwing Wing Seris off balance. Wyrselon seized the opening—his silver-blue wings abruptly transformed into countless flowing starlight chains that bound Wing Seris tightly in mid-air like living restraints! Celestia's "Spear of True Sight" flashed like lightning, exploiting the gap and piercing straight through Wing Seris's shoulder blade. Thunder power surged wildly inside, forcing an agonized scream from her. Completely losing the ability to resist, she fell heavily to the ground, gravely wounded.
The instant Wolfe fell and Wing Seris crashed down critically injured, mutation struck again! Several bizarre three-colored Blight Vines—twisted fusions of shadow, flesh, and plant—erupted from the earth at blinding speed. They did not attack the armies—instead, they coiled like living things toward Wolfe's corpse and the barely-breathing Wing Seris, attempting to drag them away!
"No you don't!" Blazing Fist Mark's roar rang out. Molten-fist power smashed downward, incinerating the vines reaching for Wolfe's body. Wind Staff Anber—ignoring her exhaustion—whipped out wind blades that precisely severed another vine's root system. Alliance soldiers reacted instantly, attacking the remaining vines. The eerie vines recoiled in pain and swiftly retreated underground—vanishing completely.
From afar, Siste witnessed this. A dark glint of resolve flashed in her blood-red eyes. Without hesitation she shouted: "Plan changed! Full retreat! Preserve our strength—for the ultimate ideal!" Before her words finished, she and the surviving blood-elf mages exploded into thick crimson mist. Using the battlefield chaos, they swiftly fled into the distance at extreme speed—impossible to pursue.
After days of ferocious battle, the flames of war at Steelforge City finally began to die down. Traitor Wolfe lay dead; Siste's blood-elf legion routed; Wing Seris's self-destruction marked the complete failure of Doomsday Rebirth's assault on Steelforge City. The Alliance forces erupted in heaven-shaking cheers, celebrating this hard-won victory—but many, after the initial joy, fell silent again as they looked at their fallen comrades and the broken walls.
The Fall of the Light Wing
Wyrselon slowly descended beside Wing Seris. Looking at his sister lying in a pool of blood—wings broken and bloodstained, breath faint—he was filled with emotions too complex to unravel: grief, rage, incomprehension. Celestia silently landed nearby, gripping "Spear of True Sight," watching this woman who once gave her hope and then shattered it completely with ice-cold eyes.
Wing Seris coughed violently; fresh blood kept spilling from her mouth. She looked up at Wyrselon and revealed a twisted, manic smile.
Wyrselon knelt. His voice was hoarse from desperately suppressing emotion: "Little sister… tell me—what exactly happened thirty years ago in the south? What made you abandon the glory of Lightfeather Vault, abandon the beliefs you once protected, and become… this?" Gentle stellar healing light bloomed in his hand, trying to stabilize her wounds first.
"Hahaha… cough cough…" Wing Seris laughed again; the laughter tore at her injuries, making her cough up more blood clots. "Brother… my dear, forever self-righteous brother… you're still the same as thirty years ago… eyes only filled with those pompous 'justice' and 'order'… Thirty years ago? That so-called 'reinforcement'… was nothing but sending me to witness a complete, victors-written… massacre carnival aimed at all non-human races!"
Her voice suddenly turned shrill and anguished, filled with thirty years of suppressed pain, madness, and bone-deep hatred: "You lofty rulers will never understand what hell I saw there! After my squad and I were captured… what we witnessed wasn't the glory and sacrifice war should bring—but the most extreme, naked evil and atrocity! They… those so-called civilized Alliance forces… were nothing but demons wearing human skin!!"
Her body trembled violently with the memory; an ominous black aura faintly reappeared along the edges of her pure-white wings: "They cut off elves' ears and strung them into necklaces as barbaric trophies to show off! They tied elderly dwarven blacksmiths to red-hot cannon muzzles and blew them to pieces just to hear the bang for fun! They forced beastman mothers to watch their tiny children torn apart and eaten alive by starving magical beasts! They threw innocent human children into boiling vats… just to hear their desperate, shrill screams! They hanged old people from trees and slowly pierced their throats with spears, savoring their dying gasps! Women… suffered the most inhuman violation before being burned alive! They even… even forced us surrendered prisoners into infighting—making us kill each other, then demanding we eat the losers' flesh to earn the right to barely stay alive… They even held so-called 'hunter games,' driving unarmed civilians into the forest, then hunting them down with magical guns, bows, and arrows like animals, laughing at their terror and despair… That massacre lasted three full days and nights, brother! Blood literally formed rivers; screams and mad laughter shook heaven and earth… I will never forget—one desperate mother knelt at the soldiers' feet, clutching her infant still in swaddling clothes, begging bitterly. What she received was a single sword thrust through both mother and child… That soldier… he was still laughing, kicking their bodies into a pit already filled with corpses…!"
She gasped for air; her pure-white wings trembled violently from extreme emotion; the holy halo around her became extremely unstable: "This is the order you swore to protect with your life? This is the proud civilization of your Alliance? To me—it's just the most extreme, most barbaric cruelty and madness dressed in gorgeous clothing! Is such order still worth protecting?!"
Wyrselon's face turned ashen; his fists clenched until knuckles whitened; his body trembled slightly: "This… this is impossible! The Alliance has strict military discipline—how could… how could such things…"
"Impossible?" Wing Seris's laughter grew even sharper and more manic, filled with mockery. "Brother—you're too naive! There has never been true justice in war! History is always written by the victors who survive! They can easily cover up all darkness and bloodshed!" Her gaze suddenly became distant, as though returning to that hopeless moment: "Just when my faith completely collapsed, when I sank into the deepest despair and was about to be forced into that cannibalistic game… he appeared. Roman Chronos… like a ray of light tearing through the dark abyss, he charged alone into that living hell and pulled me out of endless despair."
"Roman… what did he tell you?" Wyrselon asked hoarsely.
A trace of the fanaticism that had been ignited back then flashed in Wing Seris's eyes: "He told me—this world has been rotten to the core from the very beginning! Like an ancient machine completely broken and rusted through. Racial hatred, discrimination, massacre—these are the rusted gears that keep war and suffering cycling endlessly. And what he wanted to create with 'Doomsday Rebirth' was not destruction—but rebirth! He would use the most cutting-edge technology and the deepest magic to recast this world! He made me imagine such a future: dwarven forge-hearts resonating perfectly with elven forest magic, producing eternal energy sources to power the world; human creativity and beastman primal strength fully fused, shaping immortal guardians beyond all limits; our winged clan's sky-soaring joined with the sea clan's deep-sea diving, together exploring unknown starry seas and endless abysses. There would be no racial massacre, no hunger or oppression. All living beings—regardless of form—would coexist harmoniously under brand-new, equal, and just rules. That would be an eternal paradise woven from technology and magic—the true ideal nation! And he invited me to join him, to realize this great ideal together… His words… his blueprint… gave me hope to completely overthrow this rotten old world and build a truly beautiful new one! So I joined Doomsday Rebirth. I joined willingly!"
Wyrselon listened; his expression became indescribably complex—grief mingled with faint understanding: "Little sister… you were deceived! Roman Chronos's ideal sounds beautiful—truly utopian! But what about the means he uses to achieve it? Look at this battlefield! Look at the mountains of corpses under Steelforge City! Look at those twisted variant winged troops! His methods are just as cruel and bloody—even worse! The war he started has already cost countless innocent lives, shattered countless families! This is not a path of rebirth—it is a road to an even deeper hell!"
He reached out; stellar healing light bloomed once more: "It's not too late to turn back! Come home with me to Lightfeather Vault—face the elders' judgment! I will use my authority as king to do everything in my power… to save you, to help you atone."
"Judgment? Atonement? Hahaha…" Wing Seris laughed again; the sound filled with desolation and despair. "Brother… you still don't understand… From the moment I witnessed the southern hell with my own eyes, the judgment of the old world lost all meaning to me. I'm telling you these things… not to beg for forgiveness…" Her voice suddenly dropped; her breath grew fainter. A final, complex emotion flashed through her eyes—perhaps a lingering attachment to long-ago sibling bonds, perhaps utter despair toward that illusory ideal, or perhaps simply a desire to bring closure to her twisted life: "I'm tired… brother… I'm really… so tired… I just want… all of you who always cling to so-called 'justice'… to personally see… when you truly face… that old man Roman Chronos… and the real 'power' he possesses… the despair on your faces… will surely be… very… interesting…"
Before her words finished, the last remnant of light energy and life force within her suddenly reversed and erupted violently! In an instant it completely destroyed all remaining vitality from within! Wing Seris—this fallen six-winged angel—carrying her twisted beliefs, shattered ideals, and endless tragedy—saw the light in her eyes finally go out. Her head fell limply to the side, and she breathed her last.
Wyrselon's hand froze in mid-air; the healing light faded. He stared blankly at his sister's lifeless body; the tears he had desperately held back finally spilled over: "Little sister… why… why did it have to end like this… why wouldn't you give me a chance to save you…" This mighty Winged King now looked incomparably lonely and sorrowful.
Celestia walked forward silently. Looking at Wing Seris's corpse, her expression was complicated. Finally she spoke softly: "Your Majesty… she ultimately chose the path she believed in—even if it led to a dead end. We… the living… must carry this warning and continue forward."
Wyrselon took a deep breath, forcibly suppressing his churning emotions. He wiped away the tears and spoke again with restored firmness and calm: "You're right. We must immediately send back the intelligence she revealed before death—'Frosthold… the far north… Holy Northern Nest'! Convene all Alliance leaders at once and formulate the final battle plan. Then gather every force we can muster—march north to the Holy Northern Nest and settle this with Doomsday Rebirth once and for all!"
The flames of war at Steelforge City finally began to die down completely. Traitor Wolfe lay dead; Siste's blood-elf legion routed; Wing Seris's self-destruction marked the total failure of Doomsday Rebirth's assault on Steelforge City. The Alliance forces erupted in heaven-shaking cheers, celebrating this hard-won victory—but many, after the initial joy, fell silent again as they looked at their fallen comrades and the broken walls.
In Murest City's command core, Elf Queen Sylvia Sunshine received the front-line victory report along with Wyrselon's urgent intelligence: "Frosthold… the far north… Holy Northern Nest…" she murmured. "It seems the time for the final battle is approaching."
Across the continent, Alliance forces began to mobilize. Sea Queen Yulena Vortex Tide summoned the sea clan legions; Soul King Erebus led elite soul-body troops; Wyrselon's winged legions prepared to march.
Yet deep within the stellar space, Fa still struggled in endless agony. The fusion of twelve energies was nearing completion—but that final sliver of balance remained elusive. She sensed a hidden force quietly interfering with everything…