It was a city drowned beneath black clouds and roaring thunder. A city once filled with pride and glory — now nothing but a curse upon the earth. The rain fell like shattered glass, slicing through the silence of destruction. The city of Black Tides — a name once whispered with awe — now stood as a tale of tragedy and loss.
Far away, on the steep slopes of a lonely mountain, Zord watched in silence. The overwhelming force of darkness had swallowed everything. The storm's wind twisted through his hair as his eyes glowed faintly under the flashes of lightning. He could see the city — once known for its shining docks, its ships of pure black wood, and its castle that rose like a myth among mortals — now engulfed in chaos.
The city of Black Tides was a wonder to behold in its time. Every wall was carved from the same dark oak that sailed across the oceans. The homes shimmered under moonlight, the ships stood tall as guardians of the coast, and the castle — oh, the castle — looked like something born from legends. But now, everything was drowned in ruin.
Zord's eyes lingered heavy with grief. He slowly descended the mountain path, hidden in the mist and rain. His footsteps were silent, careful. When he reached his home, there was no light, no voice, no warmth. Only emptiness.
He had only one family — his father.
The wind grew colder as he stepped outside. Several bodies were lying on the ground — motionless, nameless. The rain turned the soil to mud, mixing with the blood and the memory of those who once lived. Zord walked through the lifeless remains, each step heavier than the last.
And then… he saw him.
His father — chained against a stone wall. His body weak, pale, unmoving. Zord crouched beside him, trembling. The man had died not from the sword, not from the storm — but from starvation. His father, a sailor who once commanded the ships of Black Tides, now reduced to nothing but bones and sorrow.
Zord closed his eyes. A tear slid down his cheek and vanished into the rain.
Then he heard it — footsteps. The metallic rhythm of boots crushing through the mud. He turned. In the fog, eight soldiers cloaked in black approached, their armor dripping with rain, their blades gleaming under the lightning.
They saw him — and in that instant, they charged.
But before they could strike, the world fell silent. The rain paused mid-air, the thunder stopped roaring. One by one, the soldiers turned into black smoke — evaporating into nothingness.
Zord stood still, his eyes now glowing brighter — not in anger, but in grief. The silence returned, deeper than before.
Meanwhile…
The sea whispered softly, its salty waves brushing the broken shore. The storm had passed here — leaving behind a quiet peace that felt almost unreal.
The sun was half-hidden by clouds, its rays dancing gently on the water. On the edge of the beach, sitting on a fallen tree trunk, were Aron and Carlos. The others — Master and Wood — were a few meters away, repairing their gear and talking softly.
Carlos smiled faintly, closing his eyes.
"It's so peaceful," he said, his voice calm. "I feel alive again."
Aron looked at him, then at the sky above.
"I guess so," he replied softly.
Carlos stood up, brushing off the sand, and walked to join Master and Wood. Aron remained there, lost in thought. He stared at the ocean, his reflection trembling on the water's surface.
"It's all beautiful," Aron whispered to himself. "But if everyone in this world — everyone who deserves to see this — could see it, that would be great..."
He looked over at the others — Lily laughing with Carlos, Master teasing Wood, all smiling like family. For a moment, the pain of war, the memories of loss — all vanished.
"I guess so," Aron said again, this time smiling. "We should keep moving… otherwise, we'll be left behind again."
He stood up and joined them, his heart lighter than before.
Far away, in the city of Wingman, Trail stood before a tall iron door that opened into a forbidden garden. Few ever saw it — a hidden place, filled with silence, where the flowers grew untouched by the world's cruelty.
Trail sat alone on a stone bench, the wind brushing his hair. His face carried the weight of regret, his hands trembling slightly.
Then, footsteps approached. Someone sat beside him — silent at first. Trail didn't need to look. He already knew.
"Have you done it?" Trail asked, lowering his cap to hide his eyes.
"I have," the voice replied faintly. It was Luxorious himself. His tone was calm, but there was unease beneath it. "Though the energy I witnessed… it was unlike anything. He is indeed… a Norm."
Trail nodded slowly.
"Good work, Luxorious. Without you, I would not have achieved many things."
Luxorious tilted his head. "Now what will you do? I've heard more murders, more destruction — even here."
Trail's eyes darkened. "We cannot save Wingman City anymore. Even with you and Zord… it's too late."
Luxorious froze. "Zord? He's back?"
Trail sighed. "He stopped the attacks. Saved many lives. Right now, he's… busy. As for me — I've decided to step down as commander."
Luxorious was silent for a moment, his eyes burning faintly under his hood. Then he stood up.
"People are dying," he said coldly. "And not because of evil — but because of your late and reckless actions. The king and his council are useless. You have to make a decision — now — or you'll regret it for the rest of your life."
He turned and walked away. Before Trail could speak, Luxorious vanished into thin air — leaving only the whisper of his words behind.
Trail's fingers tightened around his cap. His eyes widened with realization.
Elsewhere, in Bloomberg City, near the city of Galaguard — the storm of politics and power brewed.
Inside the royal hall, King Azerius sat upon his throne, eyes cold as marble. The tall doors opened, and a man stepped in — the warrior-king of Galaguard himself.
Galaguard's cloak was soaked from the rain. He walked forward slowly, his armor glinting under the torches.
"Azerius," he said. "I need your help. My people are starving. The darkness has begun to spread — it's casting its shadow upon my city."
Azerius leaned back, his expression sharp. "And why should I trust a traitor who has slaughtered our kind?"
Galaguard's eyes narrowed. "The past is past. Don't bring it to the present. Mistakes were made — by both of us. But now, as humans, we must stand together. This world is breaking apart."
In his heart, though, Galaguard whispered another truth — I will use you, old friend… like a pawn in my game.
Azerius rose from his throne, his presence towering. "Humans are more evil than the darkness itself," he said. "Your people may enter my city — but you, and your soldiers, will not. Set your camps outside our walls."
Galaguard stood in silence for a long moment. Then he turned and left the hall without another word.
Outside, the rain had stopped. Thousands of people — men, women, and children — gathered, waiting for his command.
Galaguard climbed onto a stone platform, his voice echoing across the plains.
"LISTEN!" he shouted. "People of Galaguard! Let the women and children enter the city — along with the injured and those who cannot fight. The rest of us — the soldiers — will camp outside with me!"
The crowd cheered. Hope returned to their eyes. They began moving toward the city gates, carrying what little they had.
Far above, on the hill near the castle, Azerius stood, watching them from the shadows. The wind brushed against his cloak as he muttered softly to himself.
"The city of Galaguard," he said, "once bright as the morning sun… now waits for its burial beneath the clouds."
And as he spoke, dark clouds gathered again. The sky rumbled, and the light dimmed. The darkness was coming — not just for one city, but for all of them..