The night sky above the city of Verrathium—once the proud heart of Suvarn's old homeland—split open as if the heavens themselves were torn apart.
A single crack of black lightning fell, striking the center plaza with a sound that was less thunder and more a scream.
Streets shattered.
Spire towers collapsed like sand.
The giant bell atop the old temple split clean in half.
People ran, stumbled, cried out for help—but the air thickened until their voices were swallowed by the choking dark.
Shadows crawled across the ground like spilled ink.
Then he appeared.
A tall figure stepped out of the collapsing lightning, his silhouette framed in the flicker of corrupted blue light.
Xerathul.
The Abyssal Warden.
The First Commander of Zephyrion.
His armor was layered obsidian, carved in wicked runes that pulsed with lightning veins like a beating heart. A long spear rested in his hand, its blade shaped from pure shadow, crackling each time he exhaled.
He surveyed the city silently.
When he finally spoke, his voice rolled through the streets like storm wind.
"Begin the Harvest."
From the lightning rift behind him, dozens of twisted entities poured forth—storm wraiths, armored fiends, and horned beasts born from thunder and shadow. Their roars cracked windows. Their steps shook the streets.
Verrathium exploded into chaos.
Shops burned.
Homes collapsed.
Citizens screamed as they ran through smoke-filled alleys.
A mother held her son tightly as a wraith drifted toward them.
A guard captain raised a spear that shattered the moment the beast touched it.
A knight fell to his knees, coughing blood as the corrupted wind gnawed at his lungs.
Xerathul watched it all without emotion.
"Zephyrion commands order," he murmured. "A city of hope must burn first."
With a flick of his spear, a swirling vortex of black lightning burst forward, consuming half the main square.
The city Suvarn once protected—his pride, his heart—was drowning in ruin.
And the world, far away in Luminera, felt the tremor.
IN THE PALACE OF LUMINERA....
The castle walls trembled.
A ripple of energy washed over the capital, like a silent gust that passed through every living being. But only one could feel it.
Kaenmor's eyes opened first.
He had been meditating in the garden, but the moment that breeze brushed his cheek, he knew.
"Something… broke," he whispered.
Lena ran through the halls, breathless, clutching a scroll.
"The— the city of Verrathium— it's under attack! A massive demon presence— the scouts can't even approach—!"
She stumbled into the throne room where the king, Alden, stood frozen mid-conversation with the queen.
Alden's face paled.
"Verrathium… that is part of the western nations—Suvarn's old domain."
The queen's voice was calm but grave.
"This is no ordinary demon raid."
Before anyone responded, the giant doors swung open.
Morian, Deyr, Suvarn, Coren, Garron, Lyra, Sera, and Aria entered at once—summoned by the sudden tremor of corrupted magic.
Suvarn's face was already drained of color.
"It's my city," he whispered. "The place I… protected."
Even Deyr's usual smirk faded.
Morian crossed his arms, his expression hardening.
Kaenmor entered last, wind trailing behind him like a cloak.
"We need the briefing," he said.
Lena presented the scroll with shaking hands.
"A message from a surviving rider. He says the attacker… is not Zephyrion. It's one of the Seven Commanders."
The atmosphere changed instantly.
Even the candles flickered.
"The Seven Commanders…?" Deyr muttered, leaning back as if trying to remember. "That's something new."
Kaenmor nodded grimly.
"We heard stories, years after the war. Seven chosen by Zephyrion, each crafted from his corrupted fragments. But we never saw them. They did not exist last cycle."
The king swallowed.
"So Zephyrion has grown stronger."
"Not stronger," Morian corrected. "Smarter."
Aria stepped forward, gripping the table.
"Do we know which commander attacked?"
Kaenmor placed a hand over the scroll, feeling the lingering aura of corrupted lightning. The winds bring him voices.
"Xerathul," he said softly. "The Abyssal Warden."
Suvarn turned away sharply, fists trembling.
"He is destroying Verrathium…"
—
IN THE STRATEGY ROOM.....
The Aetherbounds gathered around the great carved table—a map of Elyndra etched across it.
A black marker pulsed above Verrathium, flickering like a dying flame.
Morian slammed his fist on the table.
"We go. Now."
Kaenmor shook his head.
"No. Not all of us. The castle and capital cannot be left undefended."
Deyr scoffed. "Come on, Windy. You think these demons will teleport here instantly?"
"Elayne and Lena are still here. The queen, the king. Thousands of civilians."
Kaenmor's voice firmed.
"If Zephyrion orchestrated this, he will strike again while we're gone."
Aria blinked. "You want me to stay?"
Kaenmor nodded.
"You and your team will protect Luminera with me. The capital must never fall."
Suvarn stepped forward, shaking.
"Please… let me go."
Morian placed a hand on his shoulder, surprisingly gentle.
"You think we'd leave you behind? It's your home, kid."
Deyr stretched his arms like he was preparing for a festival.
"Three Aetherbounds is more than enough to turn a city to dust."
Suvarn tried to smile—but couldn't.
"Thank you, but I'm not planning to turn my city into dust." he whispered.
Kaenmor turned to the king.
"Morian, Deyr, Suvarn will lead the response."
Alden exhaled in relief.
The queen studied them, lips pressed tight.
"Be swift. Lives are at stake."
...
The castle bustled with frantic movement.
Coren and Lyra sharpened their weapons.
Sera and Garron stood with arms folded, watching Deyr pack his chainblades with far more casualness than appropriate.
"You could at least pretend this is serious," Sera snapped.
Deyr winked.
"Sweetheart, if I pretend—this whole castle will explode from the pressure."
She blushed furiously.
Morian lifted his titan gauntlets, checking the runes carved into the metal.
His muscles tightened beneath his cloak as he adjusted them.
"Been a while since I punched something properly," he smirked.
Aria approached Suvarn, who stood alone at the balcony, staring toward the west.
"Suvarn…"
He didn't look at her. His voice shook.
"That city… was my miracle. I built it with hope. I gave everything to protect it. But after centuries away, I don't even know if anyone remembers me."
Aria placed a hand on his arm.
"They will remember your flame."
He swallowed hard.
"I'm scared, Aria."
"I know."
Their eyes met briefly—gentle, warm.
Then Suvarn turned away abruptly, wiping his eyes.
"Let's go."
...
At the castle gates, Kaenmor stood guard with the palace knights, watching the trio step forward.
Morian rolled his shoulders.
"Try not to die while we're gone," he told Kaenmor.
Kaenmor smirked back.
"Try not to destroy the entire city."
Deyr cracked his neck.
"No promises."
Suvarn inhaled deeply, letting flames flicker across his fingertips.
"For Verrathium."
And with a blinding rush of heat, wind, and chaos—
the three vanished.
.....
Far in the abyssal realm, the Demon Lord opened his eyes.
A slow smile spread across his face as he felt the Aetherbounds' energy surge across Elyndra.
His voice echoed through the burning throne room.
"…so the first move has been made."
He leaned back, fingers tapping his throne of blackened bone.
"What will you do this time… Aetherbounds?"
The shadows curled, whispering like eager serpents.
Zephyrion closed his eyes, amused—
and the demon realm trembled in anticipation.
...
The forest behind Luminera was silent—unnaturally silent.
No birds.
No rustling brush.
Only the faint hum of wind that Kaenmor summoned through his steady breathing.
He sat cross-legged beneath an old willow, the leaves trembling around him yet never falling.
Wind spiraled from his palms, drifting outward in shimmering waves—soft at first, then stronger, then stretching beyond the reach of mortal land.
Elira sat nearby, hugging her knees, watching him with a hopeful, fragile smile.
"Is it reaching him?" she whispered.
Kaenmor did not open his eyes.
"I'm trying… but his presence is shrouded. It feels like reaching through fog… and shadow."
Elira lowered her head.
"But he'll hear eventually, won't he? He always did… whenever you called."
Kaenmor's voice softened.
"You never stopped believing in him. That alone is a force even I cannot match."
A faint blush touched her cheeks—but her eyes glistened with quiet pain.
"He needs us, Kaenmor… even if he doesn't know it yet. And we need him too."
Kaenmor finally opened his eyes.
Wind died instantly.
"…Elira. I fear he has closed himself off."
A silence lingered.
Then—
A sudden blast shook the ground beneath them.
A ripple of dark energy surged through the trees.
Kaenmor rose to his feet, eyes sharp.
"The outskirts of the castle."
Elira stood quickly, heart pounding.
"So they've come…"
Kaenmor nodded.
"Two more of Zephyrion's commanders."
Elira clutched her chest.
"The city… Aria…"
Kaenmor pressed a hand to her shoulder, steadying her.
"We expected this. That is why we stayed."
The wind around him shifted—becoming sharp, cold, alert.
"And we will face them."
THE THREE AETHERBOUNDS – APPROACHING VERRATHIUM....
A burning sky greeted them as they arrived.
The smoke rose so thick it blotted out the sun.
Shattered towers.
Collapsed walls.
Flames chewing through the streets like hungry beasts.
Suvarn's breath caught in his throat.
"…my city…"
His voice cracked.
Even Deyr—normally mocking—said nothing.
Morian stared ahead, jaw clenched.
"This is worse than I thought…"
They leaped from rooftop to rooftop, moving through smoke and screams.
Demons filled the streets—storm wraiths spiraling overhead, armored fiends stomping through plazas, monstrous shadows prowling alleys.
Everywhere they passed, families fled in terror.
Suvarn's flames roared uncontrollably.
"I won't let this happen—NOT AGAIN!"
He rushed forward, blasting through a pack of wraiths.
Morian and Deyr followed immediately.
Buildings cracked as Morian slammed an armored fist into the ground, sending shockwaves bursting through the streets.
Deyr danced between demons, chainblades slicing through shadows with chaotic precision.
But even through destruction—
Something felt wrong.
A pressure hung over the city like a storm about to explode.
Morian looked up first.
And there—standing atop the ruined temple spire—was a silhouette wrapped in lightning.
Xerathul, the Abyssal Warden.
He stepped forward with slow, confident grace, spear trailing sparks.
"So," Xerathul said, voice echoing unnaturally,
"the fallen legends crawl from their graves."
Morian smirked.
"Look at this guy. Talks big for a glorified lightning rod."
Deyr leaned in. "At least he's tall. And shiny."
Xerathul didn't even blink.
"I was expecting three. Zephyrion predicted precisely this outcome."
Suvarn growled.
"Stop your talking—"
He leaped—flames bursting behind him—
—but something slammed into him mid-air.
A black barrier of lightning.
Suvarn crashed back to the ground, skidding across stone, coughing blood.
"Suvarn!" Morian shouted.
Xerathul's eyes crackled.
"Did you think I came alone?"
The plaza darkened.
From behind him, shadows thickened—bodies forming from distorted silhouettes.
Three more figures emerged, each dripping with demonic power…
First—
A pale knight whose armor emitted frost.
Vaelthros, the Pale Reaper.
Second—
A seductive demoness whose hair floated in the air like liquid sound.
Azenvera, the Siren of Ruin.
Third—
A towering beast of vines and rot, footsteps cracking the stone.
Thornmire Varranth, the Rot-Titan.
They stepped forward as a group—four commanders, each radiating enough power to crush armies.
Morian inhaled sharply.
"Four…? Zephyrion sent FOUR!?"
Deyr's smirk died entirely.
"Oh hell."
Suvarn stood shakily, eyes wide.
"This… this isn't a raid…"
Xerathul raised his spear.
"This is a message."
Azenvera's lips curled into a slow, wicked smile.
"My, my… you three are much different than the legends claimed."
Vaelthros simply stared with cold indifference.
Thornmire snarled, vines slithering.
For the first time since their reunion—
the aetherbounds did not move.
Even Morian—who laughed at danger—stood still, fists tightening.
The power radiating from the four was suffocating.
A storm.
A frost.
A rot.
A siren's corruption.
Deyr whispered, "We… might actually die here."
Suvarn's voice trembled, "They can wipe out nations…"
And then—
BACK IN THE CAPITIAL....
The meditation forest trembled as a dark wind brushed past Kaenmor's face.
"Elira," Kaenmor said quietly, "they've reached Verrathium."
"Did… did Dravon hear us?"
Kaenmor shook his head, eyes dark.
"No."
Elira's voice broke.
"But he will come! He has to—he—"
BOOM—
A roar thundered through the castle grounds.
An explosion of corrupted energy blasted the outer walls.
Kaenmor and Elira turned sharply.
A second blast followed.
Then a third.
The very ground cracked beneath their feet.
Kaenmor whispered,
"…no."
Elira froze in horror.
Down the hill—marching like a tidal wave—
an army of demons larger than anything Elyndra had ever seen swarmed toward the castle gates.
And at the front—
Two more commanders.
Ignaroth Hellmaw
The molten giant wreathed in fire.
Garvok the Unbound Colossus
Gravity twisting and crushing the earth beneath him.
Soldiers screamed.
Alarms rang across Luminera.
The sky filled with flames, smoke, and twisted elemental storms.
The queen stepped onto the balcony, eyes widening—but she did not flinch.
"They are upon us…"
Kaenmor lifted his staff, winds clawing at the sky.
"Elira. Stay behind me."
Elira nodded, fear and determination mixing in her eyes.
Kaenmor exhaled deeply.
"…It begins."