The Alliance's Sorrow and the Western Front's Victory Report
Though the flames of war between Steelforge City and Ember Moon City have been extinguished, the scars on the Muret Continent remain curled and unhealable, like a scroll scorched by raging fire. The shadow of the Doomsday Rebirth organization has temporarily receded, yet the western coastline continues to weigh heavily on the Alliance forces. Queen Fishlena Vortex personally took command, mustering 180,000 elite sea clan warriors in secret alliance with amphibious clan armies. Like a tidal wave, they surged toward the ports and cities occupied by Doomsday Rebirth, launching surprise attacks with the advantage of the sea. Shark warriors of the sea clan dove beneath the waves to tear apart Doomsday Rebirth's underwater defenses; frogmen and serpentfolk of the amphibious clan infiltrated from the shadows of swamps and shores, severing the energy supply to the vines. In just two days, they recaptured six key ports and three coastal cities, restoring the western supply lines to Alliance control. Though modest, this victory greatly boosted Alliance morale.
In the recaptured ports and coastal cities, Queen Fishlena raised the sea clan's vortex banners and declared: "The wrath of the ocean will drown all invaders! The Western Front has returned to the Alliance's grasp. Next, we march straight for the Holy North Nest to shatter Doomsday Rebirth's schemes! This land shall be reborn!"
Yet this victory brought no lasting respite.
On the morning of the sixth day, the eight kings decided to relocate their command post to Steelforge City, establishing it as the headquarters for the northern expedition.
After a day's swift march, the eight kings reconvened in Steelforge City's council hall. Though joy flickered on their faces, it was overshadowed by the gravity of the impending decisive battle. Aldrich tapped the table heavily and spoke in a grave tone: "The recapture of the west is good news, but Doomsday Rebirth's three main forces still hold the north. Our armies have fought consecutive battles and are exhausted. We must grant the troops several days to rest, tally casualties, and reorganize our forces."
Sylvia Sunshine nodded in agreement: "Indeed. Let the soldiers repair their equipment and heal their wounds. Meanwhile, gather logistical supplies to ensure every army has sufficient energy crystals and medical potions." Nuti Ursa pounded his chest heavily: "My beastkin warriors never fear fatigue, but they need a blood-boiling feast to reignite their fighting spirit! One day is enough!" Secret Forging Titan's beard bristled: "The dwarven forges never go cold—we'll repair every runic war chariot within that single day!" The Elder Xuanjia spoke slowly: "Sarto's people also need rest in the swamps. Tally the fallen and honor the sacrificed."
The rest order was swiftly relayed to all camps. The clang of blacksmith hammers, the glow of mages' healing spells, and the quiet murmurs of soldiers cleaning wounds wove together into a rare melody of wartime peace. But when the casualty figures were compiled and presented in the council hall, the air froze instantly:
Human forces: 80,000 dead, 120,000 remaining. Aldrich stared at the roster, fists clenched: "These were the pride of the Secsas Federation. Their sacrifice will not be in vain."
Dwarven forces: 60,000 dead, 90,000 remaining. Secret Forging Titan growled low: "Every dwarf is a child of the mountains. We shall avenge them with our hammers!"
Elven forces: 30,000 dead, 50,000 remaining. Sylvia Sunshine closed her eyes in silent mourning: "The spirits of nature will embrace their souls. The Emerald Forest will forever remember their guardianship."
Beastkin forces: 70,000 dead, 100,000 remaining. Nuti Ursa's tiger-like eyes reddened: "The brothers of Fierce Claw forged glory in blood! Doomsday Rebirth will pay the price!"
Reptilian forces: 60,000 dead, 90,000 remaining. Elder Xuanjia intoned deeply: "Though the swamp's blades have broken, new life shall rise from the abyss."
Sea clan forces: 70,000 dead, 180,000 remaining. Fishlena Vortex's voice rolled like waves: "The children of the sea never run dry. We shall wash away the enemy's traces with the tides."
Winged clan forces: 10,000 dead, 40,000 remaining. Wyrselon's voice remained calm: "The watchers of the firmament shall be reborn beneath the stars."
Soul entity forces: 10,000 dead, 90,000 remaining. Soul King Erebus's soulfire flickered: "Souls are eternal; traitors must perish."
That day, sorrow and resolve permeated the camps. The wounded healed under Lin Ya's wood-element magic, Yuyuer's crystal orb offered solace to weary minds. TISK labored tirelessly by the forge, repairing Rex's armor. Salsa's soul form patrolled the night, summoning shadow wolf knights for vigilance. Kayla and Zhamisi shared battle insights, Celestia soared overhead on watch, and Arya silently guarded them all. In this brief tranquility, the shadow of the northern expedition descended without a sound.
The Northern Expedition's Assembly and Strategic Clash
At noon on the eighth day, the colossal heart-furnace beneath Steelforge City's throne hall pulsed ceaselessly, its low metallic hum serving as a stifling backdrop to the grave atmosphere within. On the massive granite round table lay a precise magical sand table of the northern Muret Continent. The Holy North Nest—that final and most formidable stronghold of Doomsday Rebirth—appeared as a malignant tumor pulsing with ominous crimson, marked over the ruins of the old Frosthold.
The eight kings and leaders who would decide the continent's fate sat around the table, with Arya, Kayla, TISK, Salsa, Rex, Yuyuer, Zhamisi, Lin Ya, and Celestia standing behind or to the sides. From noon until deep into the night, fierce strategic debates never ceased.
"We must face reality!" Human King Aldrich pointed to the casualty figures marked on the sand table, his voice stern. "The allied forces have endured two-front bloodshed and suffered heavy losses. Though we still number seventy-six hundred thousand in total, Doomsday Rebirth holds their long-prepared lair with rested troops, plus those eerie erosive vines and the unknown 'perfect new species.' A rash northern march would be like hurling an exhausted army against an iron wall!"
"So every extra day we delay gives Roman Chronos one more step toward completing his mad plan!" Beastkin King Nuti Ursa roared, his fiery red rabbit ears trembling with agitation. "Our children bleed, our homes burn! Must we wait until he turns the entire continent into a breeding ground for twisted monsters before we act? Strike while the iron is hot—one surge of momentum, then it fades, and thrice it dies!"
Dwarven King Secret Forging Titan slammed a fist on the hard table with a dull boom: "King Aldrich's concerns are valid, but King Nuti's fiery spirit is the model for us all! Steelforge City's forges still burn, our warriors can still swing hammers! The key is finding an effective way to counter those cursed vines and sturdy defenses. A frontal assault would bring unbearable casualties."
Sea Queen Fishlena Vortex tapped lightly, lighting the coastal areas on the sand table in azure: "My sea clan has reclaimed the western main ports; maritime supply lines remain secure. We can provide continuous deep-sea supplies and reinforcements for the northern expedition, and harass the Holy North Nest's flanks from the sea. But the main land assault still depends on you all."
Soul King Erebus's soulfire burned steadily, his voice echoing low: "The soul entity army fears no physical exhaustion and can serve as vanguard to disrupt the enemy. Though Cthulhu fled, his control over the undead remains formidable. I must focus on suppressing any undead tide he might summon."
Wing King Wyrselon spoke calmly, a trace of lingering sorrow on his face yet his voice still regal: "The winged legions will seize air superiority, suppress the variant winged ones, and conduct high-altitude reconnaissance. Seris's dying words… hinted at a great terror hidden in the Holy North Nest. We must uncover what exactly Roman Chronos has built there."
Elven Queen Sylvia Sunshine's emerald eyes swept the room, finally settling on the glaring red dot: "All your words hold truth. The northern expedition must proceed, but with meticulous planning. We have already broken centuries of barriers, fusing all races' strengths into one. Dwarven heavy armor and runic technology, human discipline and numbers, beastkin berserk power, elven magic and precision, sea clan support and ambushes, soul entities' mental disruption and tirelessness, winged clan's air dominance… Thus, we strike straight for the heart—the Holy North Nest."
Elder Xuanjia spoke slowly, his voice like deep ocean tides: "Unity is our only path to survival. Sarto's warriors shall stand shoulder-to-shoulder with you until the end. We must draft detailed march routes, supply plans, joint combat signals, and… contingency plans for the worst."
The discussion was arduous—resource allocation, march order, main thrust direction, wounded disposition—every detail touched on each race's interests and customs. As night fell, magical lamps illuminated the hall, yet arguments continued. Arya and the others occasionally offered suggestions, especially Rex's ideas on energy shield frequency interference and Lin Ya's concept of using natural life energy to counter the erosive vines, injecting fresh directions into the plan.
The Melting of Centuries-Old Barriers and the Descent of Night
Just as the discussion reached an impasse—
A cold, profound aura, as if rising from eternal night itself, silently enveloped all of Steelforge City. It was neither the stillness of undeath nor the emptiness of shadow, but an ancient, noble presence laced with supreme dignity and faint sorrow. Guards on the walls—especially the elven soldiers—felt a soul-deep tremor and wariness, gripping weapons tightly as they stared into the suddenly denser darkness beyond the city.
"Report—!" An elven patrol captain burst into the hall in slight panic: "Your Majesties! All Majesties! Outside the city… a large unknown army has appeared! Their aura is immensely powerful and… filled with dark power! They emerged without a sound—we cannot determine if they are friend or foe!"
The hall fell instantly silent. Except for Queen Sylvia Sunshine and Arya's group, the other seven kings' faces changed, immediately entering alert status.
King Aldrich rose sharply: "What? Is this Doomsday Rebirth's surprise attack?!"
"Calm yourselves." Queen Sylvia Sunshine's melodic voice rang out, carrying complex, indefinable emotion. "They are not enemies. If I am correct, this is our final ally, arriving as promised." She looked at the other kings and took a deep breath. "Everyone, please follow me outside to greet them. This is a historic meeting after centuries of separation between light and shadow."
With astonishment, vigilance, and a hint of anticipation, the eight kings and Arya's group ascended to the repaired main rampart of Steelforge City.
Beyond the city, moonlight barely pierced the clouds, casting a cold, clear glow. A solemn, silent army stood motionless in the wilderness, as though grown from the earth's own shadows. At their head rode the Dark Night Elf King—Maragoth—mounted on a massively muscled shadow demon lion with flowing dark-fur hide and eyes burning with ghostly blue flame.
He wore the "Shadowscale Sovereign" armor that shimmered with abyssal sheen under the faint light, crowned by the "Soul-Devouring Thorns" diadem that inspired dread, and gripped the "Soul-Rending Axe" that seemed to absorb all surrounding light. Merely sitting there, his presence alone congealed the air. Beside him stood the familiar Night Shadow Knight Order commander "Phantom Blade" Moras, along with three other Dark Night Elf generals whose auras rivaled Moras's.
To his left stood a tall, lithe female general in form-fitting dark purple leather armor patterned with intricate spider webs. Her face was coldly beautiful, her ink-black eyes emotionless, twirling twin slender, venom-fang-like daggers wreathed in purple mist. She was the "Nightmare Assassin Order" leader—"Shadow Spider" Selene.
To his right stood another female general, even more enigmatic. She wore a deep blue robe trimmed in silver, holding a staff topped with a massive cat's-eye gem, surrounded by faint star illusions and whispering energy waves. She was the chief of the Dark Night Elf "Hidden Star Arcana Council"— "Star Speaker" Jolsa.
And one male general, the most imposing in build, clad in heavy obsidian plate armor, his face scarred viciously, shouldering a massive black flail glowing with runic seals of restraint, his gaze feral like a beast ready to devour. He was the Dark Night Elf garrison commander—"Dark Dreamer" Baris.
Behind these elite powerhouses stood thirty thousand silent-as-stone Dark Night Elf troops—sharp-eyed, superbly equipped, exuding the cold lethality of veteran warriors. Even more shocking were the thousands of colossal constructs in the rear: war ancient trees animated from primordial timber, and stone golems built from unyielding rock, standing like eternal mountains and radiating incomparable pressure.
Queen Sylvia Sunshine stepped forward, moonlight spilling over her silver-white hair, contrasting sharply with Maragoth's ink-black locks that flowed like night itself. Centuries of estrangement, division, and even enmity condensed into an indescribable tangle of emotions between the two elven leaders.
"King Maragoth," Sylvia's voice rang clear and calm, carrying an elven sovereign's grace and solemnity, "thank you for coming to our aid. Your arrival brings vital strength and hope to this dark war."
Maragoth's abyssal black eyes met hers, and he spoke slowly, his voice deep and magnetic, resonating in the soul's depths: "Sylvia Sunshine. Light and shadow are two sides of the same moon—though paths diverge, they share origin in this world. The crisis of the World Tree is the calamity of all elves. We Dark Night Elves have not forsaken this world. We come not for sunlight or moonlight, but to honor our oath." His words were concise yet weighty, directly bridging the historical chasm.
Then Maragoth's gaze passed Sylvia to Arya and Lin Ya behind her. It lingered on Lin Ya for a moment, and he gave a slight nod; a trace of rare softness touched his stern face: "Young druid, Lin Ya. Ilya often spoke of you. Thank you for all you did for her. The Dark Night Elves remember this debt."
With his words, the massive war ancient trees and stone golems behind him simultaneously bowed slowly toward Lin Ya, emitting low, respectful rumbles—like ancient existences paying homage to a messenger of nature. The sight stunned everyone present and underscored Lin Ya's stature in the realm of natural life.
Finally, Maragoth looked to Arya and her companions, sweeping his gaze over each: "Wherever the bearer of the 'Shadow Moon Root Token' stands, that is where the Dark Night Elves fulfill our vow. We have come."
Simple words, yet carrying the force of a thousand weights. The ancient pact converged at last amid the flames of war.
The Alliance army had never been so powerful—or so complex. Light and dark elves, sky-winged folk, deep-sea clans, earthbound dwarves and beastkin, human empires, shadowy soul entities—all gathered now under Steelforge City's banner for one shared purpose.
On the morning of the ninth day.
Dawn's light had not yet fully banished the night's chill when the vast expanse outside Steelforge City was already boundless. The seventy-six hundred thousand allied troops of all races, joined by the new thirty thousand Dark Night Elves and their titan constructs, completed their final formation.
Banners blotted the sky, weapons gleamed like forests. Dwarven war drums and horns rumbled low and mighty, beastkin war cries tore the heavens, elven war songs soared clear and eternal, human phalanxes marched in perfect unison, sea clan scales flashed in the morning light, winged warriors circled above, soul entities glowed with ghostly radiance, and the Dark Night Elf formation stood silent as the abyss, radiating lethal menace.
The nine kings stood together on a temporary high platform. Sylvia Sunshine, as the Alliance's initiator, stepped forward. Her voice, amplified by magic, carried across the entire army:
"Brave warriors! Guardians of the Muret Continent! Today we stand here not to conquer, but to survive! Not out of hatred, but for the future! In the north, in the Holy North Nest, an enemy awaits—one who would destroy all old order, sacrificing billions of lives to pursue his insane vision!"
She extended her hand northward: "There lies the deepest darkness, and the final battlefield before dawn! Behind us are our homes, our kin, everything we love! We have nowhere to retreat!"
"Today, we march north! Whether human, dwarf, beastkin, elf, sea clan, winged, soul entity, or Dark Night Elf—in this moment, we bear but one name: Guardians of Muret! Let us fight side by side, let our roars become the mightiest cry to end the darkness! For the Alliance! For Muret!"
"For the Alliance! For Muret!!!" A thunderous roar erupted like mountains and seas colliding, shaking the very clouds and resonating through Steelforge City's iron walls.
Horns blared long, war drums thundered!
The colossal allied army, like a slowly turning wheel of fate, began its resolute, heavy march northward—toward the ice plains shrouded in shadow and terror.
Arya gripped her Storm Bow tightly, looking to her companions, to the unprecedented host behind her, and finally to the distant northern horizon.
The moment of decisive battle had arrived.
The northern expedition had begun.