Nightfall Over Varantis
The grand palace of Varantis stood silent under the moonlight. Guards patrolled the halls, their torches casting flickering shadows along the stone walls.
In his personal chamber, Leon sat at his desk, reviewing reports of his growing army. The conquest of Varantis had given him thousands of new soldiers, but war with the Empire was inevitable.
He exhaled, rolling his shoulders. Sleep had been rare these days.
But tonight, sleep would not come at all.
In the rafters above, a figure lurked.
Dressed in obsidian black, their movements were silent as death. A curved dagger gleamed in their hand, coated in an Emperor's Kiss—a poison that could kill within seconds.
They had one mission: Kill Leon Blackwood.
The assassin descended like a wraith.
A single strike—aimed straight for Leon's heart.
The Dance of Death
But Leon was no fool.
His instincts screamed.
At the last second, he dodged left, the blade slicing the air where his throat had been.
With lightning speed, he drew his sword, slashing toward his attacker.
The assassin flipped backward, landing in a crouch. They had missed their mark.
Leon's golden eyes burned as he analyzed his foe.
"An assassin? That was fast."
The assassin did not speak. They lunged again, their dagger flashing in the moonlight.
Leon blocked, the force of the impact sending a sharp vibration up his arm.
This was no ordinary killer.
This was the Hand of the Empire.
The best of the best.
Leon smirked.
"Finally… a worthy opponent."
A Battle in the Dark
The fight was a blur of steel and shadow.
The assassin was fast, moving like a ghost, their blade striking with deadly precision.
But Leon was faster.
He countered each attack, pushing his foe back with every strike.
The assassin aimed for his throat—Leon dodged.
A dagger slashed for his ribs—Leon twisted away.
A final desperate stab—
Leon caught the assassin's wrist.
The assassin's eyes widened beneath their mask.
"Too slow," Leon whispered.
With a brutal twist—CRACK!—he snapped the assassin's wrist, forcing them to drop their poisoned dagger.
The assassin staggered back, clutching their arm.
Leon didn't hesitate.
With one powerful strike—his sword pierced their chest.
The assassin gasped.
Then, slowly, they collapsed.
Blood pooled across the floor.
Leon exhaled, rolling his shoulders.
"The Empire will have to try harder than that."
War is Coming
At that moment, Kael and Elara burst into the chamber, weapons drawn.
They froze at the sight of the dead assassin.
"Damn," Kael muttered. "They didn't waste time."
Elara kneeled, inspecting the corpse. "This insignia… they were sent directly by the Emperor."
Leon wiped the blood from his sword.
"Then the game has begun."
He turned to his commanders.
"Prepare the army. If the Empire wants a war… we'll give them one."
Outside, storm clouds gathered over Varantis.
The war for the continent was about to begin.
---
The Emperor's Wrath
A Message in Blood
In the Imperial Palace of Aurelia, the grand throne room was bathed in golden light. The high nobles and generals of the Empire stood in uneasy silence, their eyes flickering toward Emperor Lucius Aurelius.
At the base of the throne, a severed head lay on the marble floor.
The assassin had failed.
The Hand of the Empire—one of the Emperor's deadliest enforcers—had been killed by Leon Blackwood.
Lucius's golden eyes burned with silent fury. He took a slow breath before turning to his gathered court.
"Leon Blackwood has sent us a message." His voice was calm, but beneath the surface, it was a storm of barely contained rage.
Prince Hadrian, his son and heir, grinned as he leaned forward. "He's bold, I'll give him that. But he just signed his own death warrant."
Marshal Valtorin, the Empire's greatest general, stepped forward. "Your Majesty, we should not delay. A full Imperial Legion could crush this warlord before he gathers more strength."
The Emperor's fingers tapped against the armrest of his throne.
"A single legion? No, that would be a mistake."
The court fell silent.
"Blackwood has proven himself… resourceful. He did not just kill an assassin. He sent the corpse back to us, carved with a message."
Valtorin frowned. "A message?"
The Emperor nodded. A servant stepped forward, unrolling a bloodstained banner.
Scrawled in black ink across the fabric were four words:
"Come and take it."
Murmurs erupted throughout the court.
Prince Hadrian chuckled. "I like his audacity. But arrogance has a price."
Lucius stood, his golden cloak billowing. "We will not waste time with another assassin."
His voice was ice.
"I will break him myself."
Gasps filled the room.
Marshal Valtorin bowed deeply. "Shall I prepare the Imperial Legions, Your Majesty?"
The Emperor's smirk was sharp as a blade.
"Prepare two legions. And send word to the Lords of the East. I want Blackwood's head… and his kingdom reduced to ash."
Across the Empire, the banners of war were raised.
The full force of the greatest Empire in history was about to descend upon Leon Blackwood.
---
The Gathering Storm
Back in Varantis, Leon stood atop the walls of his newly conquered city, staring out at the dark horizon.
He knew the Empire would come.
And he welcomed it.
Kael stepped beside him, arms crossed. "The scouts report Imperial movement. They're mustering their armies."
Elara exhaled. "They won't stop until you're dead."
Leon's lips curled into a dangerous grin.
"Then we'll show them what it means to fight a true warlord."
He turned to his commanders.
"We march at dawn. Before they come for us… we take the fight to them."
And so, the war for the continent was about to begin.
---
The First Strike
The Calm Before the Storm
Dawn painted the sky in hues of crimson and gold. In the heart of Varantis, the war drums boomed like distant thunder, their rhythm echoing across the land.
Leon stood on the battlements, watching as his army prepared for war. Thousands of soldiers gathered in tight formations, their armor gleaming under the rising sun. Banners bearing the Blackwood sigil fluttered in the wind.
This was no mere defense.
This was a preemptive strike.
Kael approached, his sword resting against his shoulder. "Scouts report two Imperial Legions are gathering at Fort Aurelius, three days' march from here."
Leon smirked. "Perfect. Then we strike before they're ready."
Elara crossed her arms. "We're outnumbered. If we fail—"
Leon interrupted her with a confident grin.
"We won't fail."
Darius, his battle-hardened general, stepped forward. "We have an opportunity. If we burn their supply lines, they'll be forced to slow down. Without food, without reinforcements, even the mighty Empire will bleed."
Leon nodded. "Then we ride tonight."
---
The Midnight Raid
Under the cover of darkness, Leon led his elite forces toward Fort Aurelius.
The enemy's supply lines stretched for miles—caravans of food, weapons, and siege equipment moving slowly toward the Imperial encampment.
Leon's warband moved like shadows, cutting through the forest that bordered the road.
At his signal, the attack began.
Arrows rained from the darkness—piercing the hearts of unsuspecting guards.
Explosions erupted as Leon's men set fire to the supply wagons, turning the night into an inferno.
Imperial soldiers shouted in confusion as Leon rode through the chaos, his sword flashing like a demon's fang.
A captain in golden armor tried to rally his men—Leon's blade severed his head in a single stroke.
Kael unleashed hell with his twin daggers, moving with deadly precision through the panicked ranks.
Darius led a cavalry charge, trampling Imperial soldiers beneath steel hooves.
By the time dawn broke, the entire supply line was destroyed.
The Empire's first move had been crippled before it had even begun.
And Leon had delivered the first wound.
---
The Empire's Fury
Far away, in Fort Aurelius, General Castor—one of the Empire's most feared commanders—read the reports with a cold stare.
The veins in his forehead bulged.
"This… upstart… dares to defy the Empire?"
His second-in-command hesitated. "Sir, without those supplies, our forces will be weakened. The men are already—"
Castor slammed his fist into the table, splintering the wood.
"Enough!" His voice was a roar of pure rage.
He turned to a group of armored knights, each bearing the sigil of the Imperial Elite.
"Summon the Crimson Guard. We march immediately. And when we find Blackwood…"
His lips curled into a snarl.
"We will burn his kingdom to the ground."