"How persistent are they…?"
The air felt heavy as the clash was about to begin once again. Zeiris clapped slowly, a creepy rhythm echoing through the dark hall, his face stretched into a horrific smile that didn't belong to any sane being.
Lyoth sat calmly on his throne, his posture relaxed, yet his presence overwhelming. His eyes were fixed on the massive gates of the castle, as if he could already see beyond them.
"Do you really think Rogard is enough to lead?" Lyoth asked, his tone cold and uninterested.
Zeiris tilted his head slightly, still smiling.
"Well… he is quite bold," he said. "A savage one. I do believe in him. But he is a human…"
He paused, his grin widening.
"That is exactly why I turned him into a wolf. Now… he is more than enough to trust."
For a moment, silence filled the hall.
But then—
A horrific sound echoed from outside.
Thud…
Thud…
The entire castle trembled.
A long-necked dragon slowly emerged, its massive body shaking the very structure of the fortress. Each step it took sent vibrations across the stone floor.
It entered the castle without hesitation.
The Black Reaper.
It looked at Lyoth and Zeiris for a brief moment, its hollow eyes unreadable. Then, without a word, it moved past them and rested beside the throne, its presence alone enough to suffocate the air.
Lyoth didn't even turn.
"I don't really care," he said. "Whether he dies or lives… it makes no difference to me."
---
The battlefield was alive.
Smoke filled the air, thick and suffocating. Metal clashed against metal, creating a deafening noise. Loud screams echoed from every direction as the army marched forward.
They were close.
Very close.
The darkness had already conquered most of the lands. Everything it touched slowly turned into an abyss. The world itself felt… lighter, yet far more darker than before.
Aron looked toward the left side, where massive mountains stood like silent witnesses. The soldiers marched forward, their steps rumbling against the earth.
He tightened his grip.
Wearing his armor, he looked back for a moment.
What he saw—
Fear.
Some soldiers were frightened, their faces pale. Some were shaking uncontrollably. Others were crying quietly. And a few… stood still, unable to even process what was about to happen.
"It's the evil brothers!" a man suddenly shouted.
Aron turned.
The man looked mad—his eyes wide, almost lifeless.
"We were born to die this day!" he laughed. "Doesn't it feel good? This is the day we all die and get buried!"
Another soldier stepped forward angrily and pushed him.
"If you don't shut up, I will kill you before the darkness does!"
The tension grew heavier.
Aron looked at them for a moment… then turned his gaze forward again.
His mind wandered.
What will it look like…?
The battlefield… the clash… the end…
At the center—
Amrock rode alongside Keiss.
"How long until we reach them?" Amrock asked.
Keiss looked ahead.
"It seems the clash will be by tomorrow… even if we move at full speed."
Amrock stayed silent for a second.
Then—
"What do you think are our chances of winning?"
Keiss didn't answer immediately.
"It's complicated, my king," he finally said. "The darkness can regenerate. We cannot."
He tightened his grip on the reins.
"Even if we kill them… we will run out of stamina eventually."
Amrock clicked his tongue.
"The Wingman bastards… everything is in ruin, yet they refuse to lend us their swords."
Keiss nodded slightly.
"My king… we may lack powerful weapons, but our spirit is strong."
He looked ahead again.
"Even if we cannot completely destroy them… we will push them back."
Amrock took a deep breath.
"After some time, stop the army and camp here," he ordered. "They will come to us. I cannot let our soldiers get exhausted before the fight."
Keiss nodded.
"As you command, my king."
His horse sped forward, moving ahead of the army.
Then he turned—
"STOP!" he shouted.
The entire army slowly came to a halt.
"We camp here!" Keiss continued. "Help each other, eat, and prepare yourselves!"
His voice grew stronger.
"The darkness will be here soon!"
A single word echoed from the soldiers—
"Yes!"
---
Far away—
On top of a mountain—
Black smoke rose into the sky.
Under the crimson moon, a wolf-like figure stood tall.
Its claws were sharp.
Its mouth dripped with saliva.
Its eyes glowed red.
Rogard.
He let out a low, distorted howl, his body releasing a terrifying energy that spread through the air.
"How ferocious…" he muttered.
"How admirable…"
He sniffed the wind.
"I can sense a Norm down there…"
A grin formed on his face.
"Soon… I will taste his blood."
He licked his lips slowly.
"After all… it tastes the best."
---
On another path—
Luxorious and Trail rode side by side.
The land around them was empty, lifeless.
Luxorious broke the silence.
"Do you really think… you should interfere in this war?" he asked coldly.
Trail didn't answer immediately.
"Tell me, Luxorious," he said finally. "What should I do?"
"Should I go back empty… or should I seek answers?"
Luxorious glanced at him.
"Answers?" he said. "You think war will give you answers?"
Trail smirked slightly.
"Luxorious… I admire your boldness."
He looked ahead.
"The day I first met you… I turned back."
He paused.
"Otherwise, you would have become a terrible man under Silksog."
Luxorious said nothing.
Trail continued—
"You may be the strongest man in the world right now… but this is not the time to prove that."
His tone grew serious.
"Even if we don't help them… they don't have enough light swords."
"The darkness can regenerate."
Silence followed.
Luxorious…
A name feared almost as much as a Norm.
But what made it even more interesting—
Was their origin.
They were close to Norms.
Their ancestors—
Nemesis… and Norm.
Beings of extreme power.
They never fought together.
But if they ever did—
Nothing would be left.
The horses continued galloping across the empty land.
Toward the battlefield.
Toward the war.
Toward something that would change everything.