Outside the walls of Vylonia, within the safety of their hideout, the members of the Shield commenced their training under the guidance of Luisa and Princess Athena. The seven warriors arranged themselves in a single horizontal file, facing their mentors with determination etched on their faces.
Luisa stepped forward, her hands moving with an ethereal grace as she manipulated the water around her, coating her hand in a glistening layer. In a breathtaking display, she transformed the water into ice and morphed it into the shape of a deadly blade. With a fluid, effortless motion, she slashed through a massive rock nearby, leaving the Shield in awe.
"Whoa!" they exclaimed in unison, their eyes wide with amazement.
"That's Hera," Luisa said, her voice laced with pride. "As you just witnessed, Hera can be wielded in various forms. For those of you who fight without weapons, like Valerus, you can coat your body in Hera, just as I did. If you prefer to use weapons, like Athena, you can imbue them with Hera's power. In ancient Vylonia, gunmen coated their bullets with Hera."
"Amazing," Caius murmured under his breath, his eyes still fixed on Luisa's dazzling display.
"Humans require three essential elements to function properly: the spirit, the soul, and the body," Luisa explained. "To harness Hera's power, your spirit must be unyielding. In other words, you must possess a strong will."
"A weakling cannot hope to wield it," Athena added, her voice firm and resolute.
"That's correct," Luisa said, nodding in agreement. "Therefore, you must dedicate yourselves to meditation and focus, drawing out the latent power within. Hera resides within every human being; you need only train tirelessly to awaken it. So, let us begin! I will work with Valerus, Isolde, Elara, and Caius, while the rest of you will train under Athena's guidance. In a month's time, we shall launch our assault on Vylonia and liberate the Thorenzians!"
A rousing cheer erupted from the Shield, their voices brimming with determination and hope. "YEAAAH!" they cried out in jubilation, their spirits bolstered by the promise of a brighter future for their people.
Meanwhile, within the walls of Vylonia, chaos reigned in the Thorenzian camp. The air was filled with the despairing cries of the prisoners as Lord Rafa, chained and weakened, struggled to his feet.
"What has happened?" Lord Rafa's voice trembled with concern as a young Thorenzian approached him, chains clinking against the cold stone floor.
"Lord Rafa, ten of our children have vanished!" the young man exclaimed, his eyes wide with fear.
Lord Rafa's face paled, his heart heavy with worry. "How can this be?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.
"Their mothers haven't seen them since this morning. We don't know how it happened," the young Thorenzian said, his voice trembling.
Lord Rafa's expression contorted in anguish. "This is a catastrophe. We must take action."
Days passed, and the Vylonian palace was once again thrust into disarray. Prince Sunday raced through the halls, his heart pounding as he approached his brother, Prince Monday.
"What happened?" Prince Sunday asked, his eyes searching his brother's somber face.
"Father has passed," Prince Monday said, his voice barely audible.
Prince Sunday's eyes widened in shock. "How did this come to be?" he asked, his voice a mere whisper.
"He went to sleep and never woke up. Father is no more," Prince Monday replied, his gaze downcast.
Prince Sunday's expression grew distant. "I see… Has Athena returned to the palace? A week has already passed."
Prince Monday shook his head. "No, she has not. We have no knowledge of her whereabouts."
Prince Sunday's brow furrowed in concern. "Where could she have gone?" He turned to his brother, his tone resolute. "Summon our brothers and inform them of our father's passing. We shall lay him to rest tomorrow and select a new Emperor thereafter."
In the princes' quarters, the air rang with the sound of heated arguments as each prince vied for the throne.
"I shall be the new Emperor of the Vylonian Empire," Prince Monday declared with a sneer.
"Do not jest, Monday. I shall be the one to ascend the throne," Prince Tuesday countered from his position by the window.
The bickering intensified, each prince attempting to outshine the others. Boasts of conquest and claims of superiority echoed through the chamber.
The cacophony reached its peak as Prince Sunday's authoritative voice cut through the din. "None of you are fit to rule if your only concern is satisfying your own vanity and desires. As the eldest son, I am the most suitable candidate for the position of Emperor."
Just as the quarrel threatened to escalate further, Queen Sariel's voice pierced the chaos. "Silence! Your childish bickering serves no purpose. Leave this place at once!"
The princes, their pride wounded, dispersed from the room, leaving behind an air of tension and uncertainty in their wake.
As Emperor Absalom's burial drew to a close, a heavy silence descended upon the Vylonians and Thorenzians in attendance. Their collective grief soon gave way to anticipation as they gathered in the grand square to witness the coronation of their new Emperor. The air crackled with tension as alliances formed around favored candidates.
Less than a week after the somber ceremony, the Vylonians and Thorenzians found themselves assembled once again, their eyes fixed upon the proceedings. An old man, adorned in his resplendent reddish long garment, stepped forward to address the crowd.
"By the power vested in me, I crown you Empress of Vylonia," he declared.
A murmur rippled through the assembled masses, their expressions etched with confusion.
"Empress? Does this mean Athena is to be Absalom's successor?" one citizen whispered.
Another shook their head in bewilderment. "I haven't laid eyes on Athena for two weeks now. This is most peculiar."
Before the whispers could escalate, the old man's voice boomed across the square once more.
"People of Vylonia, I present to you your Empress – Sariel Uranus!"
The announcement was met with a cacophony of gasps and protests, the crowd's confusion giving way to outrage.
"Sariel?! What is the meaning of this? How can she be the successor?" a citizen cried out, his voice swiftly joined by another. "This cannot stand! We will not support this!"
The dissenting voices grew louder as the people united in their opposition to Sariel's coronation. But before the rebellion could fully take root, Empress Sariel's gaze fell upon the two instigators, her eyes blazing with a cold fury.
With a swift, commanding gesture, she pointed at them. The guards responded without hesitation, unleashing five massive fireballs that engulfed the protesters in a roaring inferno. The intensity of the blaze consumed five more nearby citizens, their agonized screams piercing the air.
As the chaos died down, a suffocating silence settled over the square. Empress Sariel's voice cut through the stillness, her tone icy and unforgiving.
"Who else dares to oppose my ascension to the throne?"
Fear gripped the hearts of the people, and not a single voice dared to challenge her authority. The silence was deafening, a testament to the Empress's ruthless determination to quash any resistance.
Night fell over the Thorenzian camp, the shock of Sariel's coronation still hanging heavy in the air. As three young Thorenzian women wandered through the camp, discussing the events of the day, they stumbled upon a chilling sight. Ten children lay motionless on the ground, their small bodies eerily still.
"What's wrong?" one of the girls asked, gently lifting one of the children into her arms.
"Look at his hands," the second girl observed, her voice trembling. "His veins are bulging, and his nails and fangs have transformed into those of a beast."
"It's the same for all of them," the third girl confirmed, a sense of dread growing among them.
"Hurry and fetch the elders," the first girl urged, her voice laced with concern. "Tell them we've found the missing children."
The 'o'r elders rushed to the scene, the entire Thorenzian camp close behind. The mothers of the afflicted children broke down in sobs, their hearts shattering at the sight of their little ones' suffering. Each child's eyes had transformed into small, beady orbs, reminiscent of the beasts that haunted their nightmares.
"Why must we endure such torment?" Lord Zurich lamented, his voice heavy with despair.
"This is our fate," Lord Ozai said, resignation etched on his face. "It is unfair, but we must accept it."
"How can you say that, Lord Ozai?" Lord Alexander questioned, his tone laced with disbelief.
"It is a cruel truth that we are born into circumstances beyond our control," Lord Ozai explained, his voice tinged with sorrow. "Many are condemned to suffer for reasons unknown to them."
"Though we cannot alter the circumstances of our birth, we can still fight to change our future," Lord Rafa countered, his voice ringing with conviction. "Just as the Shield stands against the Vylonian Empire, we must rise up and fight for our freedom!"
"YEEEAAAH!" The Thorenzians roared in unison, their spirits buoyed by Lord Rafa's rallying cry.
"And where are those who call themselves the Shield?" Lord Ozai questioned, his voice tinged with bitterness. "Wake up! This is the harsh reality we must face. Our fate is inescapable, no matter how fiercely we resist."
"Lord Ozai, even Lord Ozan fought valiantly on his own for the freedom of Thorenzia," Lord Zurich pointed out, hope lingering in his voice.
"And look where that got him," Lord Ozai retorted, his words punctuated by the sudden arrival of Vylonian guards.
The camp fell eerily silent as the guards invaded, seizing 120 Thorenzians, including men, women, children, and the elderly. Despite their valiant efforts to fight back, the Thorenzians were ultimately powerless to stop the guards from dragging their people away into the darkness.
As the Thorenzians' anguished cries echoed through the night, Lord Ozai spoke once more. "This is the harsh truth of our existence. We are powerless against the hand we have been dealt."
The Thorenzians' cry echoed through the night, a haunting reminder of their desperate plight