Arthur ran a gloved hand along the surface of the wall, feeling the solid, enchanted stone beneath his fingers. It thrummed gently in response, as if alive, resonating with his presence. The faint pulsing of runes beneath the surface echoed the heartbeat of the land itself. It was no ordinary wall—it was the culmination of ancient magic, modern strategy, and the blood-bound determination of his people.
The corner of Arthur's lips twitched—not quite a smile, but something close.
"This wall…" he murmured under his breath, voice low and resolute, "this will be our sword… and our shield."
He lifted his gaze to the horizon. Beyond the great barrier, the wind stirred with growing urgency, carrying with it the scent of tension—of rain, steel, and something darker. Overhead, clouds had begun to gather, swirling like war banners in the sky. The air itself seemed to tighten, as though the world was holding its breath.
He didn't move as he spoke softly into the air, his voice carrying weight despite its calmness.
"Diana."
A whisper of shadow flickered behind him, and a moment later, the lithe figure of Diana knelt at his side. Her assassin's garb clung to her like a second skin—dark, seamless, efficient. Her violet eyes gleamed beneath her hood, serious and unwavering.
"Yes, my lord," she said, her voice as quiet and sharp as a blade drawn in darkness.
Arthur didn't look at her as he gave his command, eyes still fixed on the faraway mountains. "Report. Everything."
Without hesitation, Diana began. "As you ordered, we've maintained continuous surveillance on Dark City. They've increased activity over the past two days—supply caravans, troop movements, and urgent military assemblies."
She paused for only a moment, her expression darkening.
"They're preparing."
Arthur's eyes narrowed, but he remained silent, allowing her to continue.
"There will be three million goblin soldiers," she said, voice hard with disgust. "Both their commanders are preparing to march. And… we've confirmed it, my lord. Even the City Lord, Khali, will be joining them on the battlefield."
She clenched her gloved fist, knuckles turning white.
"This is no raid. It's a full-scale campaign. They mean to wipe us out when we're exhausted from the kobold assault. They believe this will be the killing blow."
Arthur's jaw tensed. He already suspected as much, but hearing the truth laid bare stirred a deeper anger in him.
Their strategy was cruel but calculated. And in war, those two things often proved deadly.
Without turning, Arthur spoke again.
"Kaelira."
From the shadows near the western tower, a soft swirl of icy wind coalesced into form. A woman stepped forward, elegant and otherworldly—Kaelira, the frost-born messenger of wind and vision. She dropped gracefully to one knee, her silver-blue hair fluttering in the breeze like spun silk.
"My lord," she said, her voice cool and crystalline, "the kobold army is on the move. They will reach our borders in approximately two hours."
She paused, her gaze meeting his steadily.
"They march with two million soldiers under one commander. Their vanguard is already within ten kilometers. No reinforcements have been sighted behind them, which confirms they plan a single-wave, high-impact assault."
Arthur took a deep breath, letting the icy certainty of her report settle into his mind.
"Good," he finally said. "Diana, continue monitoring the goblins without rest. The moment they begin marching—no matter the hour—I want to know. Immediately."
Diana bowed. "It will be done."
"Kaelira," he turned to her, "send word to all commanders. We must finish the kobolds quickly—*before* the goblins arrive."
He stepped forward, placing a hand over the edge of the wall as wind tugged at his cloak.
"This battle cannot be a drawn-out defense. We will strike fast. We will strike hard. The kobolds must fall before our next enemies appear."
Kaelira lowered her head respectfully. "Yes, my lord. The orders will be delivered without delay."
Arthur gave a brief nod of approval, then turned his attention to the figure standing quietly beside him—Seraphina, princess of the fallen Hurricane Kingdom. Her long silver hair danced in the wind, and her eyes, though calm, carried the weight of her homeland's ruin.
He studied her for a moment before speaking, his voice softer but steady. "Are you alright?" he asked. "You'll be commanding the Hurricane soldiers. I trust you… but I also understand what this means for you."
A brief silence passed between them, the wind whistling faintly across the walls.
"You know those soldiers better than anyone," he continued, his tone reassuring. "They were your people before they became mine. Don't be afraid to lead them—not because of the past, but because of the future we're building."
Seraphina looked at him, her expression unreadable at first. Then, slowly, her lips curved into a small, genuine smile.
"Yes, my lord. I will," she said softly, with quiet determination in her voice.
Arthur gave her a small nod, silently acknowledging her resolve.
Now, the elite soldiers of that once-great realm marched once again, this time under his banner—but guided by the woman who knew their hearts, their strength, and their legacy.
Everything was in place. The troops were armed and stationed. Defensive spells shimmered faintly across the walls like a barrier of light. The commanders had taken position, and the entire territory buzzed with a tense, battle-ready energy. All that remained… was for the enemy to arrive.
And they did.
An hour later, from atop the reinforced walls of Starblade, Arthur and his commanders finally saw it.
A shadow rising on the horizon. A ripple in the landscape, like a tidal wave of darkness creeping toward them. The wind shifted, carrying the acrid scent of beasts and iron. Spears gleamed like teeth, banners fluttered like claws. The earth beneath the tide of marching kobolds trembled with their fury.
"A storm of fangs and desperation," Kaelira murmured.
Arthur narrowed his eyes, a cold gleam in them as the vast kobold army became clearer in the distance. Two million strong—just as reported. A dark sea of monstrous discipline and hatred, marching straight into his trap.
He leaned forward slightly, a cruel smirk tugging at the edge of his lips. His voice dropped to a whisper, low and venom-laced.
"Come in, then," he said. "Let greed guide your steps… and taste the bitterness it brings."
His smile turned sharp. "I'll make sure you remember this day."
Behind him, the great war horns of Starblade began to sound—long, deep echoes that rolled across the land like the roar of an awakening beast.
The battle had begun.