-War Council, Nightfall-
The mood in the Ossa war room was tense, a powder keg ready to explode. Maps and reports littered the large table at the center, many stained with blood or scorch marks. The surviving commanders argued in hushed, urgent tones, their faces haggard from the day's battle.
Medea paced the length of the room, her nervous energy palpable. Suddenly, she whirled and slammed a ornate dagger into the map, its blade piercing Silver Veil's location. "This is madness!" she hissed. "Did you see her eyes? The girl's power is corrupting her! She's becoming one of them!"
Richard leaned against the wall, his arms crossed. Though he appeared outwardly calm, those who knew him well could see the tension in his jaw, the way his fingers twitched toward his sword. "She's also the reason we're not all dead or worse," he countered. "We need to learn to control the corruption, not fear it. It could be our greatest weapon."
Roxana stood by the window, staring out into the gathering darkness. Storm clouds were rolling in, occasional flashes of lightning illuminating her troubled face. "The Alizahs will retaliate," she said softly. "They've tasted her power now. They'll stop at nothing to either destroy her or claim her for themselves."
In the corner of the room, the girl sat shackled to a heavy chair. Her hands, still faintly smoldering, were encased in thick metal gauntlets inscribed with runes of containment. She had been silent throughout the argument, her head bowed. But now, she began to laugh—a low, broken sound that sent shivers through everyone present.
"They're already here," she said, raising her head. Her eyes, now more black than red, seemed to reflect lightning that hadn't flashed. "Can't you feel them? The shadows are so hungry."
Before anyone could respond, the door burst open. A sentry stumbled in, his face pale with terror. "Shadow beasts!" he gasped. "Dozens of them! They're—they're approaching from the eastern ridge! Larger than anything we've ever seen!"
The room erupted into chaos. Commanders shouted orders, messengers were dispatched, and the sound of alarm bells began to ring throughout the fortress. But beneath it all, the girl's laughter continued, growing louder and more unhinged with each passing moment.
As Richard moved to lift her from the chair, preparing to once again use her as their most potent weapon, a realization settled over the room like a shroud. This war would never truly end. Not now. Perhaps not ever. The shadows had taken root, and in fighting them, the Azones risked becoming the very thing they sought to destroy.
Outside, thunder rumbled ominously. The next battle was about to begin, and with it, the next step in a conflict that threatened to consume not just their lands, but their very souls.
-Alizah War Council, Midnight-
Deep within the twisted roots of the Blackroot Forest, the Alizah commanders gathered around a map carved into living wood. Shadows writhed around them, their forms half-solid, eyes glowing like coals.
"The Azones grow bold," hissed their general, Valtor, his voice echoing as if from a great distance. "Their witch has corrupted our shadows. But we still hold Silver Veil's ashes. Let us turn their victory to ash again."
A mage stepped forward, their body dissolving into smoke. "Their new general—The Traitor of Domino or shall I say, Former King of Domino Helios Limonizer Vernoke Domino—leads Domino's Legion. Traitors. Mercenaries. Their loyalty is coin, not blood."
The General Valtor's shadowy hand clenched. "Then we strike where their gold cannot protect them." He traced a claw over the map. "The River Tear Gorge. Narrow. Steep. Their cavalry will be useless. Their witch's fire? Contained."
Another commander materialized, their voice a chorus of whispers. "That girl.....Her soul reeks of our magic now. Let her corruption spread. Let her burn her own."
-Azone War Room, Dawn-
Helios studied the terrain model of River Tear Gorge, Domino's elite commanders flanking him. These were no ordinary soldiers—Domino's Legion wore armor fused with obsidian shards to repel shadow magic, their faces hidden behind snarling wolf helms.
"They'll force us into the gorge," Helios said, tapping the narrow pass. "But we're not fight their game." He turned to a grizzled captain. "Take 300 legionnaires. Scale the eastern cliffs. Wait for my signal."
The captain nodded, a ghost of a smile playing across his scarred features. "It shall be done."
The door burst open, and Medea stormed in, her eyes blazing with barely contained fury. Her gaze swept over the assembled mercenaries, lip curling in disdain. "You'd entrust our flank to these...hired swords?" she spat.
Helios met her glare, his voice as cold as a midwinter night. "They're here because their blades have tasted more shadow-cultist blood than you've supped warm broth, Medea. Trust is a luxury we can ill afford."
One of Domino's lieutenants, a woman with a face etched by old battle scars, let out a dry chuckle. "Gold lines our pockets," she said, her voice gravelly. "But Alizah corpses? That's what we live for."
The tension in the room thickened, only to be shattered by Roxana's entrance. She all but dragged a frail figure behind her - Luxana, her hands smoldering faintly, eyes more void than human. "She demands to fight," Roxana said, her voice strained.
Helios turned, his carefully constructed mask of command crumbling the instant he laid eyes on his daughter. He froze, the blood draining from his face as he took in her emaciated form, the way her bones seemed to strain against paper-thin skin. For a long moment, he stood paralyzed, a maelstrom of emotions warring behind his eyes.
Luxana's gaze met his, and a weak smile played across her cracked lips. "Papa," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I'm alright."
Those simple words seemed to break some dam within Helios. He took a halting step forward, then another, until he stood before her. His hand, calloused from years of swordplay, reached out to cup her cheek with impossible gentleness. "Luxana." he breathed, his voice thick with suppressed emotion.
Medea's scoff shattered the moment. "How touching," she sneered. "Shall we pause the war for a family reunion?"
Helios's head snapped around, his eyes blazing. But before he could retort, Luxana spoke again, her voice stronger now. "I can fight," she insisted. "I must fight."
Helios studied her, conflict etched in every line of his face. "Can you control it?" he asked softly, the question heavy with unspoken fears.
Luxana's smile turned feral, wisps of smoke curling from the corners of her mouth. "Control?" she echoed, a dangerous glint in her shadow-flecked eyes. "Oh, papa. Where's the fun in that?"
The girl smiled, smoke curling from her lips. "Control is boring."
-Battle of River Tear Gorge, Noon-
The Alizahs struck first. Shadow beasts poured into the gorge, their forms flickering between solid and smoke. Azone infantry locked shields, obsidian armor glowing as it repelled the darkness.
"Hold the line!" Helios roared, his sword cleaving through a shadow panther. Domino's Legion fought like demons, their curved blades humming with enchantments that hurt the shadows.
High above, Kára's 300 emerged on the cliffs. They hurled glowing canisters into the gorge. The devices exploded into blinding light, shredding shadow beasts into wisps.
Valtor materialized before Helios, his form solidifying into a towering knight of living darkness. "You think light saves you?" he sneered. "Your witch is ours now. Look."
The girl stood at the gorge's entrance, flames around her streaked with oily black tendrils. Azone soldiers nearest her screamed as their own shadows turned against them, strangling them.
Helios froze—but only for a heartbeat. "CAPTAIN! The package!"
Domino's lieutenant lobbed a small, pulsing crystal. The girl grabbed it instinctively. The crystal screamed, purging the shadows from her veins. She collapsed, vomiting black ichor.
"You…planned this?" Roxana hissed at Helios.
"Domino's people mine anti-magic ore," he said simply. "Expensive. Effective."
-Alizah Retreat, Nightfall-
The surviving Alizahs dissolved into the forest, but not before Valtor's voice echoed across the battlefield: "This changes nothing! The shadows always return!"
In the Azone camp, Medea stared at the unconscious girl. "She's more weapon than human now. How long until she breaks?"
Helios cleaned his sword, blood and shadow-mist dripping from the blade. "Long enough."
Domino's mercenaries counted their dead—and their payment. The Captain grinned at Helios. "Next time, add hazard pay."
As the moon rose, Roxana found the girl awake, staring at her shadow—which now twitched independently.
"They're in my dreams," the girl whispered. "The shadows they're singing."
Roxana gripped her dagger. "What do they sing?"
The girl met her gaze, smiling eerily. "Your name."
-Alizah's Encampment; Outside Elmir-
As dawn broke over the Alizah encampment, Cillian and Kryll made their way to the training grounds. Around them, knights and warriors gathered, preparing for the day's drills.
A grizzled commander called out, "Today, we hone our skills for the battles to come! Remember, against the Azones, every strike must count."
Cillian nodded to Kryll, drawing his longsword. "Shall we?"
Kryll grinned, unsheathing his own blade. "Try to keep up, old man."
The two began to spar, their swords ringing as steel met steel. They moved with practiced grace, each anticipating the other's moves.
"Mind your footwork," Cillian muttered as he sidestepped a thrust.
Kryll adjusted his stance, launching into a series of quick strikes. "Better?"
"Much," Cillian replied, parrying the blows.
As the morning wore on, they switched to more advanced techniques. They practiced half-swording, gripping the blade midway for greater control against armored foes. They drilled the "murder-stroke," reversing the sword to use the pommel as a hammer.
Cillian and Kryll faced each other on the training ground, swords at the ready. The morning sun glinted off their blades.
"Ready to embarrass yourself again, Cleal?" Kryll sneered, shifting his weight to his back foot.
Cillian's eyes narrowed. "Big talk from someone who can barely lift his sword without pissing himself."
They circled each other, tension crackling in the air. Suddenly, Cillian lunged forward with a vicious uppercut. Kryll parried, the clash of steel ringing out.
"That the best you can do?" Kryll taunted, countering with a lightning-fast thrust.
Cillian sidestepped, the blade whistling past his ribs. "Just getting started, you cocky shit."
Their swords became a blur of motion. Cillian executed a half-sword technique, gripping the blade midway for greater control. Kryll responded with a murder-stroke, reversing his sword to use the pommel as a hammer.
"Getting slow, old man," Kryll panted, sweat dripping down his face.
Cillian spat on the ground. "Still faster than your brain, dumbass."
He feinted left, then struck with a brutal overhand chop. Kryll barely managed to deflect it, stumbling back.
"Sloppy as fuck," Cillian growled. "Your footwork's worse than a drunk toddler."
Kryll's face flushed red. "Shut your fucking mouth and fight."
They pressed on, their movements becoming increasingly aggressive. Swords clashed and scraped, each blow aimed to hurt, to prove dominance. By the time they finally lowered their weapons, both men were drenched in sweat, chests heaving.
"Not completely useless today," Cillian muttered, wiping blood from a cut on his cheek.
Kryll grinned, a fresh bruise blooming on his jaw. "High praise from the king of shit. I'll kill you tomorrow! So be there."
"Wouldn't miss it for the world, asshole."
By midday, both men were drenched in sweat, their muscles aching from the intense workout. But there was a glint of satisfaction in their eyes as they sheathed their swords.
"Not bad," Cillian admitted. "You're improving."
Kryll laughed, clapping his friend on the shoulder. "Whatever. Come on, let's get some food. I'm starving."
As they walked off the training ground, the sounds of continued practice echoed behind them. The Alizah forces were preparing for war, and Cillian and Kryll would be ready when the time came.
-Alizahs, Nightfall, Border of Romania, Stronghold-
In a dimly lit war room deep within the Alizah stronghold, Rudbeckia and Cesare stood hunched over a large map, their faces illuminated by flickering torchlight. Around them, other Alizah commanders and strategists gathered, their expressions grim.
Rudbeckia traced a line across the map with her finger. "The Azones have proven more resilient than we anticipated. Their use of Domino's mercenaries was...unexpected."
Cesare nodded, his brow furrowed. "We need to adapt our strategy. A direct assault is no longer viable."
"What do you propose?" asked a grizzled commander.
Cesare's eyes gleamed. "We divide their forces. Strike at multiple points simultaneously. Force them to spread thin."
Rudbeckia smiled coldly. "And while they're scattered, we deliver the killing blow."
"Where?" another strategist inquired.
Cesare pointed to a spot on the map. "Here. Their supply lines are weakest. We cut them off, starve them out."
"What about that girl though?" Rudbeckia asked, her voice low.
Cesare's expression hardened. "We have our own magic. It's time we used it."
The room fell silent as the implications sank in. Then, slowly, nods of agreement rippled through the gathered leaders.
"Prepare the shadow mages," Rudbeckia ordered. "We strike at dawn."
As the commanders dispersed to relay orders, Cesare and Rudbeckia exchanged a look of grim determination. The next phase of the war was about to begin, and this time, they would not underestimate their foes.
-03:45 AM | Azone Supply Lines-
The Alizah forces moved like ghosts through the pre-dawn darkness, splitting into three battlegroups under Rudbeckia and Cesar's command. Their targets:
1. Blackmire Depots2. Ironvein Caravansary3. Frostspire Granary
To be Continued...