The morning sun rose over the encampment, casting its golden light upon thousands of soldiers clad in steel. The banners of my empire fluttered in the wind, their sigils bearing the mark of the Godslayer's Legion.
This was no longer just an army. This was the will of an empire.
I sat atop my warhorse, Imperius, overlooking the legions that stretched to the horizon. At my side rode Rokan, his great axe slung across his back, and Cassius, ever the tactician, his piercing eyes scanning the battlefield ahead.
Ahead of us lay the stronghold of King Darion the Serpent, the first warlord to defy my rule. His fortress, built atop a mountain ridge, was said to be impenetrable.
"Serpent's Hollow," Cassius muttered, studying the enemy fortifications. "A natural fortress. Steep cliffs, a single entry point, and high walls. Even if we breach the gates, the terrain forces us into a bottleneck."
"Then we burn them out," Rokan said simply.
"If we set fire to the fortress, we destroy any wealth or resources inside," Cassius countered. "That land should serve us, not be left in ruin."
I remained silent, weighing their words. There had to be another way.
I turned to Eryndis, the last High Sage, who had joined us on this campaign.
"What of the Sages' magic? Can they tear down the gates?" I asked.
She hesitated. "It is possible. But there is something else, Aurelian. The Serpent King… he does not fight alone."
The Cursed Sorcerer
Night fell over the battlefield.
I stood before my war tent, the stars above like watchful eyes.
A shadow approached. A hooded figure.
Eryndis.
"You suspect something," I said.
"I know something," she corrected. "King Darion has allied himself with a sorcerer… one who should not be alive."
A cold wind passed between us.
"His name is Varaxes. He was once a High Sage, before he was cast out. He was exiled for practicing forbidden arts—necromancy."
I clenched my fist. "So the Serpent King has an army of the dead?"
"No. Not the dead," she whispered. "Something worse."
The air grew heavy, the torches around us flickering.
"Varaxes does not raise corpses, Aurelian. He binds souls. Those who fall in battle will not find rest—they will be forced to fight for him."
I exhaled slowly.
This war had just become far more dangerous.
The First Assault
At dawn, the siege began.
Catapults hurled flaming projectiles into Serpent's Hollow, their impact shaking the ground. War horns echoed through the valley as my legions advanced.
The first wave was met with a hail of arrows. Shields raised, our soldiers pressed forward, but the enemy's high vantage point gave them the advantage.
Then, as if summoned from the abyss itself, a dark mist unfurled from the fortress walls.
The screams began.
Our front lines faltered as ghostly figures emerged from the fog—fallen warriors, bound by Varaxes' dark magic. Their eyes glowed with an unnatural light, their movements unnatural, their bodies mere vessels of torment.
"Hold the line!" I roared, charging forward with my personal guard.
Steel clashed against the undead horrors. They did not bleed, nor did they falter. Only complete destruction freed them from their suffering.
I swung my blade, severing the head of a spectral knight. He let out a guttural shriek before vanishing into dust.
"The dead do not tire!" Cassius shouted as he parried a strike. "If we fight them forever, we will be the ones who fall!"
"Then we end the sorcerer!" I growled.
I turned to Eryndis. "Where is Varaxes?"
She pointed to the highest tower of the fortress.
"Then that is where I go."
A Duel of Magic and Steel
Under the cover of night, I led a strike force through a hidden mountain pass. The ascent was treacherous, but necessary.
We breached the fortress walls, cutting down any who stood in our way.
At last, I reached the tower.
Varaxes stood within, his form wrapped in a cloak of shifting shadows. He was no longer fully human—his body had been altered by his own magic, his soul partially consumed by the very power he wielded.
"You have come far, Aurelian," he mused, his voice like wind through a graveyard. "But this war does not end here."
"It ends when you draw your last breath."
He laughed. "Then come. Prove that your empire is worthy of existence."
And the battle began.
Lightning cracked as his spells ripped through the air. The ground itself twisted under his power, and spirits clawed from the shadows to drag me down.
I dodged, weaving through the spectral storm, my sword igniting with divine fire—a gift from the gods I had slain.
I struck.
Varaxes screamed as my blade pierced his chest. His body withered, his magic fading.
With his death, the spirits he had bound were freed.
And with that, the tide of battle turned.
Victory and a Throne to Claim
By dawn, Serpent's Hollow had fallen.
The Serpent King, Darion, was dragged before me, his once-proud eyes filled with defiance.
"You may have won this battle, Aurelian," he spat. "But the world will never bow to a man who murdered gods."
I stepped forward, my shadow falling over him.
"Then let them try to defy me."
With a single strike, I ended his reign.
The war was not over.
But today, a kingdom had fallen.
And tomorrow, the march would continue.