The Great Sages continued down the dirt road, leaving the field of fallen angels and humans far behind. The morning sun climbed higher, spreading a slow warmth across the land that pushed back the last traces of night. A soft breeze drifted through the tall grass, brushing against their cloaks and carrying the scent of dew, earth, and distant water. The world seemed peaceful again, but the silence felt heavier now, weighted by the grim memory of the battlefield.
The road wound gently between small hills dotted with clusters of trees, their leaves shimmering like emeralds in the sunlight. Birds perched on the branches, watching the Sages pass with cautious curiosity. Every so often, the wind rustled through the canopy, sending a soft whisper echoing across the open land.
Eiden led the way, his cloak trailing behind him as the breeze tugged at its edges. His eyes stayed fixed on the horizon—sharp, unwavering—and the sunlight caught in his white hair, turning it to silver as he moved. Iris and Selyndra followed close behind, their steps steady and quiet; Iris's red cloak glowed like dying embers, while Selyndra's golden hair shimmered with each shift of the wind.
Beside Morvath, whose expression remained calm and vigilant, Vaelus had finally fallen silent. His emerald eyes were narrowed, studying the land ahead with newfound focus. Dravien and Seraphaine brought up the rear, their senses sharp, scanning the fields with practiced precision.
As the hills grew steeper, rising and falling like gentle waves frozen in the earth, the road curved and disappeared behind slopes only to reappear on the other side. Soon, the breeze began to carry faint hints of smoke—thin, distant, and almost too subtle to notice. But Eiden noticed. His steps slowed as he lifted his gaze toward the horizon.
"We're getting close," he said quietly.
The others felt it, too. The peaceful morning air had grown heavy with something that did not belong in the untouched wilderness. They rounded one final hill, and the world opened before them.
The peaceful fields ended abruptly. A vast warfield stretched across the plain, its scars visible even from a distance. The earth was torn and uneven, with patches of scorched soil scattered between trampled grass and shattered stone. Broken weapons lay half-buried in the dirt, glinting faintly in the sun alongside abandoned shields, snapped arrows, and fragments of armor—the remnants of a storm that had ripped through the land.
The Sages stopped at the crest of the hill to take in the sight. The battlefield was enormous, stretching for miles in every direction. Deep gouges carved through the earth marked where powerful strikes had landed, and craters pocked the ground, some still faintly smoking. The wind carried the lingering hum of divine energy—a faint vibration that brushed against their skin like static.
"This wasn't just a battle…" Dravien's ears twitched. "This was a clash between monsters."
Selyndra nodded slowly. "Yajin and the Angel King."
"Judging by the damage," Morvath added, crossing his arms, "they didn't hold back."
The Sages descended the hill, their boots crunching against the dry, scarred soil. As they stepped onto the warfield, the air grew thicker. The land itself seemed to remember the violence, the breeze carrying hollow echoes like the remnants of screams swallowed by time. They walked past shields split cleanly in half and ground torn apart by impacts that could only have come from beings far beyond mortal strength.
Vaelus kicked aside a cracked helmet. "Whoever survived this… they're not normal."
Eiden did not respond. His eyes were fixed ahead, scanning the horizon where a massive kingdom finally rose—a dark silhouette against the bright sky. Its towering walls of pale stone gleamed faintly, with high, elegant spires reaching toward the heavens like spears of light. Banners fluttered weakly in the wind, their colors muted by distance. The structure radiated an oppressive, ancient presence, fortified and bracing for war.
The closer they drew to the Angel King's domain, the more the air seemed to thicken. A faint, cold pressure pressed against their chests—unmistakable divine energy seeping from the kingdom like a slow-moving tide.
"He's there," Seraphaine's eyes narrowed. "I can feel it."
"And Yajin?" Dravien swallowed.
Eiden stopped walking. For a moment, even the breeze fell silent. Then he spoke.
"He's fighting the Angel King."
The others exchanged tense glances. The warfield stretched endlessly before them, and the kingdom loomed ahead. Somewhere between the two, a battle was locked that could tear the land apart.
Eiden stepped forward again, his cloak fluttering. "Let's move."
The Great Sages followed, their shadows stretching long across the scarred earth as they walked toward the kingdom waiting beyond the rising sun.