Poseidon steps forward, the void seeming to solidify around him. His knuckles are bone-white as they grip the golden trident, his divine aura causing the very air to hum with oceanic power. He fixes his gaze on Hades, and when he shouts, his voice carries not just sound, but the weight of crashing waves and the pressure of the deep.
"HADES! YOU ARE THE OLDEST AMONG US! THE ONE WHO ALWAYS CALCULATED EVERY MOVE! DON'T THROW THAT AWAY ON SUCH A RECKLESS, FOOLISH MISTAKE!"
The words, laced with a genuine concern Hades has not heard in centuries, strike a chord he thought long rusted and broken.
A small smile breaks on his lips.
"POSEIDON! IT IS BECAUSE I AM RESPONSIBLE THAT I MUST TAKE THIS ST—"
"ENOUGH BARKING!" Zeus's voice is a thunderclap that dwarfs his brother's. "ATTACK!" He hurls a volley of thunder lances that tear through the void, but Hecate is already moving, her hands weaving a shield of solidified night that absorbs the blasts with silent efficiency.
Hades raises Helkarion high. 'Harmony.' A wave of golden, soothing energy erupts from the bident, washing over the entire Underworld army. Soldiers feel their senses sharpen, their movements synchronize, and their power magnify as their minds and bodies connect in perfect, lethal harmony.
The two armies collide.
Soldiers stream past Poseidon's position. Some bump against his shoulders in their frantic charge, but the Lord of the Oceans stands immovable, a boulder against the tide. His sapphire eyes remain locked on Hades, a storm of frustration and sorrow brewing within them. He grits his teeth, the words a low, pained growl. "Hades, you once saved my life. I owed you that warning... but you refuse to hear it." His eyes begin to glow with an inner, oceanic radiance, and water swirls around him, coalescing into a massive, serpentine form. "If you crave war so deeply, then I will deliver it!"
He bursts into a sprint, his divine form a blur. He launches himself from the back of a giant sea monster, gripping his trident with both hands and raising it high. The weapon flares with blinding sapphire energy, ready to strike.
Hades leaps from Nixi's back, propelling himself upward to meet the challenge. Helkarion thrums with concentrated violet power. The two primordial weapons meet in the void high above the chaotic battlefield.
CLANG!
The sound is not mere metal, but a hyper-sonic shockwave that vaporizes the air around them. A sphere of pure force expands outward, turning everything within a hundred meters to dust. As they pull back their weapons for another strike, a bolt of lightning intersects them.
Zeus materializes between the two brothers, his prosthetic arm crackling with contained storms. He drives a thunder-clad fist directly at Hades' face. Hades twists at the last possible moment, the electrified gauntlet grazing his temple as he evades the blow.
---
On the ground, the Legion of the Underworld meets the combined celestial, oceanic, and solar forces. The Genomes act as the unbreakable vanguard. They stomp their massive feet in unison, and the earth of the void itself trembles, erupting into a formidable earthen wall.
THAM!
The front lines of the enemy army crash against the sudden barrier. Those in the lead are pulverized in the stampede, their bodies instantly used as gruesome stepping stones by those behind them. Soldiers, bathed in the blood of their allies, scramble over the wall with weapons bared.
The Genomes meet their charge with a wall of heavy shields and sweeping, devastating swings of their massive mauls and ball-and-chains. Heads and limbs fly through the air in a grisly rain. Where the enemy breaks through, the Inferzals and Ark-demons are waiting, their savage attacks cutting down the infiltrators.
From the rear, the Sirakels and Elves weave a tapestry of destruction and support. Spells of fire and ice rain down upon the enemy, while shimmering barriers spring up to deflect incoming projectiles. Healing energies wash over the frontline defenders. High above, the Amar and their angels fly, providing aerial reconnaissance, dropping medical aid, and striking at key targets.
The sky is a separate battlefield, a chaotic ballet of feathers and scales. Gryphons and giant eagles lock in deadly combat with Aerynders and dragons. Devils use their innate powers of mental manipulation, turning soldiers against their own comrades in fits of confused rage.
Seeing the battle stabilize, Julie turns to Druvak, a predatory smirk on her lips. "Mia has the command post. Master, let's play a game. The one with the highest kill count wins. The loser obeys one command of the winner, no questions asked."
Druvak's glacial gaze meets hers. "Agreed. Do not regret this later." He gives a slight shake of the reins.
Neigh!
His spectral horse rears and then surges forward,a phantom arrow loosed into the heart of the enemy. Julie's smirk widens, and then she simply vanishes, leaving no trace but a faint shimmer in the air.
From her command post, Mia watches the chaotic but controlled battlefield. 'Too controlled,' she thinks, a knot of unease tightening in her stomach. She waves her wand before her eyes. "Clairvoyant."
A film of light blue energy envelops her eyes, and the distant chaos snaps into hyper-focused detail. "That's why," she whispers. She sees the true pillars of their defense: the Chthonic deities. Lord Moros, with a mere flick of his wrist, causes a hundred celestial soldiers to turn their swords on each other. The goddess Eris's phantasms drag entire battalions into waking nightmares. The river gods have flooded a whole flank, trapping the ocean's cavalry. They are holding, but only through the immense, concentrated effort of their most powerful beings.
BOOOM!
A colossal explosion tears through the left side of the vanguard. The earthen wall crumbles into pebbles, and enemy forces begin to pour through the breach.
Mia's response is instantaneous. "Aniya, Barrier! Sia, Quagmire! Now!"
The two commanders relay the orders. The earth trembles as massive, thorny wooden plants erupt, fencing the broken section. The ground in front of the new barrier turns into a deep, sucking bog.
"Ars, fill the void!" Mia commands.
Ars salutes, raising his lance with its red flag. His cavalry unit responds as one, a wave of dark armor and lances charging to plug the gap in the line.
From the enemy's rear, the Leviathan, Mesosaurus, and a host of giant sea serpents open their massive jaws. Energy gathers, coalescing into spheres of destructive power aimed at the vulnerable left flank.
ROAARRR!!!
A roar that challenges the cosmos itself echoes across the battlefield. The giant black panther, Nixi, stands before the wall, a bastion of primal fury. She opens her maw, and a beam of pure violet energy shoots forth, colliding with the aquatic beams in mid-air.
The resulting explosion is a sun born and dying in an instant. It envelops thousands of soldiers from both sides and vaporizes what remains of the frontier wall. From the cloud of dust and steam, Nixi, accompanied by her divine beast allies—a giant panda and a monstrous sloth—charges directly at the Leviathan and the others.
A soldier runs to Mia, his face pale. "Mam, the first line has fallen. We've... we've lost too many." He looks down, unable to meet her eyes.
Mia's face is a mask of stone. "Raise the black flag."
The soldier's eyes widen, the whites stark against the grime and soot on his face. The command seems to hit him with physical force, rooting him to the spot. The word "retreat" echoes in his mind, clashing violently with the image of the relentless enemy horde. To fall back now feels like admitting defeat, like surrendering the ground their friends have died to hold. Mia glares at him and shouts, "Do you not hear what I said? Raise the black flag!"
He stumbles away, and a moment later, a horn blares three times. The black flag rises. All commanders look at the black flag and quickly relay the order. "EVERYONE RETREAT! I REPEAT RETREAT!" All commanders look at the black flag and quickly relay the command. "EVERYONE RETREAT! I REPEAT RETREAT!"
The line is too entangled. It becomes a bloody, fighting withdrawal, with Ars and his cavalry sacrificing themselves in a desperate rearguard action. But not everyone makes it back.
As the enemy surges into the newly emptied killing zone, Mia locks eyes with her archer commander, Haley. A special unit nocks arrows that glow with a reddish-purple malevolence.
"Fire."
Swoosh!
Hundreds of the gleaming projectiles arc into the air, leaving spiraling trails of violet light. To some enemy soldiers, they look like beautiful, falling stars. To the veterans who know, they are the last thing they will ever see.
The arrows fall.
BOOOM!!! BANG!!!
The world erupts. A chain of cataclysmic, purple-hued domes of energy bloom across the battlefield. When the light and dust clear, the ground is a cratered wasteland. Everything caught in the blasts has been incinerated into nothingness. Millions are dead, yet the enemy force seems barely diminished.
"Raise the red flag," Mia orders, her voice hoarse.
Mia assigns another order. "Raise the red flag." A soldier raises his voice. "But mam! Isn't this the time we should attack—"
He never finishes the word.
In a blur of motion, Mia's hand shoots out and gives a hard slap on his face. She grabs his collar, yanking him forward so violently his helmet snaps back. His feet leave the ground for a moment as she hauls him up, bringing his pale, sweat-sheened face inches from her own. Her reddened, angered eyes glare at the soldier's pale face.
"Listen to me, you greenhorn," she snarls, her voice a low, venomous whip-crack that cuts deeper than any scream. "THIS IS NOT A CONTEST. NOT A GLORY HUNT. IT IS A WAR WHERE ONLY ONE THING MATTERS: WHO STANDS AT LAST. SO KEEP YOUR SHIT TO YOURSELF AND SILENTLY FOLLOW MY ORDERS." She releases him then shouts, "GO AND RAISE THE RED FLAG!"
The soldier crumples, his body betraying him completely. A violent, uncontrollable tremor seizes his limbs, making his armor rattle. His legs wobble, their strength gone, and a hot, shameful wave of warmth instantly soaks through his trousers, dripping down his leg. The acrid smell of urine mixes with the smoke. He cannot even form a proper sentence, his jaw trembling as he manages a broken, breathless whisper. "Ye-Yes…mam!"
The horn sounds four times. The red flags rise. The Underworld army shifts instantly to a defensive posture, fortifying the final boundary around the Entrance Gate. Genomes erect a new, thicker, magically-reinforced wall. Sirakels deepen the quagmire, and Elves seed it with barbed, frenzied plants. Aurs, the gate's guardian, raises his hands, and a shimmering, translucent film of energy—the Guardian Field—encases the entire fortification.
"FORGET EVERYTHING YOU THINK YOU KNOW ABOUT GLORY!" she roars, her raw throat giving the words a grating, monstrous quality. She sweeps a gauntleted hand in a vicious arc, pointing at the sea of enemies beyond the gate. "LOOK AT THEM! THEIR NUMBERS ARE INFINITE! YOUR BLADES WILL GO DULL BEFORE THEIR BLOOD RUNS DRY!"
She pauses, letting the grim truth sink in, her burning gaze sweeping across the faces of her soldiers—the terrified, the determined, the exhausted.
"OUR SOLE OBJECTIVE—OUR ONLY REASON FOR DRAWING BREATH IN THIS GODS-FORSAKEN PLACE—IS TO HOLD. THIS. LINE!" She slams a fist against the magically-reinforced stone of the gatehouse, the impact echoing like a funeral drum. "NOT. ONE. INCH! I DON'T CARE IF YOU HAVE TO BITE, CLAW, AND DIE STANDING UP! I DON'T WANT A SINGLE MISTAKE! NOT A MISSTEP, NOT A HESITATION, NOT A SINGLE LOOSE BRICK!"
She leans forward, her voice dropping again to a deadly, personal whisper that somehow carries to the farthest soldier.
"THE MOMENT THIS GATE BREACHES, EVERYTHING WE LOVE AND SWORE TO PROTECT IS GONE. DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?"
A unified roar, born of fear, resolve, and sheer desperation, thunders back at her.
"YES, MAM!"
---
A shadow flits through the enemy ranks, a phantom leaving a trail of crimson in its wake. Where it passes, soldiers fall, not with visible wounds, but as desiccated husks, their life force and essence utterly drained. This is Julie, the Reaper of the Legion. She wields a pair of obsidian blades, their edges shimmering with a bloody light.
'Lord Brontes outdid himself,' she thinks, admiring her reflection in the flawless black glass.
Her form blurs again, aiming for a cluster of celestial officers. Suddenly, a golden-booted foot slams into her crossed blades. The impact is colossal, sending her skidding backward dozens of meters across the blood-soaked ground.
She glares up at her attacker. "Kratos," she murmurs.
He stands clad in golden armor, battle axes already glowing with divine power. He charges without a word.
But a light-blue orb of freezing energy slams down between them, erupting into a forest of jagged ice thorns. Kratos glares skyward to where Amazel hovers, her wand pulsing with sapphire radiance.
At the same time, Druvak trots up on his spectral steed, his sword and armor dripping so much gore he seems a creature born of the slaughter. He says nothing, his presence a statement enough.
Kratos doesn't hesitate. He yanks a battle horn from his belt and blows a sharp, piercing note. In moments, his siblings—Nike, Bia, and Zelus—materialize behind him, their auras flaring. With them comes the sea general, Orcanon, trident in hand.