The battlefield before the shrine was a storm of chaos. Terracotta warriors advanced in tight Chinese war formations, shields locking as spears thrust in rhythmic precision. Goblins darted between their stone legs, axes flashing, snarling curses as they hacked through demon flesh. Wizards and witches stood atop the shrine walls, robes torn and faces pale, conjuring volley after volley of conjured spears, boulders, and flame. Above, an entire aerial squadron chanted together, ropes and chains with barbed hooks snapping into existence, lashing out to drag angels from the skies.
And in the midst of it all, behind the line of defenders, Morpheus crouched with Kazuki and five others—faces grim, sweat dripping, wands clutched so tightly their knuckles had gone white. The roar of battle thundered around them, but their circle was oddly quiet, tension hanging heavy.
"Are you all familiar with the plan?" Morpheus's voice cut through the din. His pale eyes swept over the group, sharp as blades.
One by one, they nodded. A witch with blood smeared across her brow whispered, "We're ready." Another muttered, "We'll hold our ground."
Morpheus shook his head, jaw tight. "We cannot afford hesitation. When they retreat, like they're supposed to, a gap will open in the lines. If the enemy pushes into that gap before we close it—" His hand slashed the air, sharp. "—they'll overrun us. This must work the first time."
Kazuki exhaled slowly, resting one hand on his blade hilt and the other on his wand. "It will," he said firmly. "We've practiced. Just… not under this much fire."
"War doesn't give us better conditions," Morpheus replied flatly. He lifted his wand. "On my count. Five."
The group shifted, bracing themselves.
"Four."
The ground trembled as a stone warrior's shield shattered under a massive demon strike.
"Three."
A goblin screamed as he was dragged into the air by an angel's spear, thrashing before plummeting lifeless to the dirt.
"Two."
Kazuki's knuckles whitened on his wand.
"One."
Morpheus snapped his wand down. His voice rang out like thunder: "Terracotta Army—fall back!"
The stone soldiers obeyed in unison, shields snapping inward as they leapt back in perfect formation. Goblins snarled but followed, sprinting with unnerving speed. Wizards and witches along the walls cried out, "Retreat! Retreat!"—a controlled pullback.
The enemy roared with triumph. Demons surged forward, claws slashing, wings beating. Angels dived, spears gleaming with holy light.
Morpheus's wand slashed in a vicious arc. "Now!"
The earth beneath the advancing horde cracked open with a sound like thunder splitting the heavens. The soil groaned, shrieked, and then collapsed inward as a massive ravine ripped across the battlefield. Demons shrieked as they toppled into the abyss, their claws scrabbling against sheer rock as they plummeted.
The angels flapped their wings, rising above the chasm—but even they faltered as the lake beyond the shrine shuddered violently. Water surged forward in a towering wave, rushing into the ravine. It foamed and churned, dragging demons deeper into the abyss.
Then the surface broke.
Mermen erupted from the flood, spears glittering, their scaled hands shooting out like striking serpents. Angels screamed as they were dragged from the skies into the dark waters. Water geysered upward, slamming into demon ranks with crushing force, pushing the enemy back from the gap.
Kazuki let out a short, strained laugh. "It worked—!"
Morpheus cut him off sharply. "Not yet. Widen it. Now!"
The seven bent their wands toward the ravine, voices rising in strained incantations. The earth resisted them centuries of solid ground groaning as it was reshaped. Sweat streamed down their faces as they forced the land apart, widening the rift, lengthening the trench. Each movement was a battle of willpower. Cracks split outward, boulders crashed down, and more water poured into the divide until it resembled a flooded canyon, seething with violent tides.
Finally, the strain broke. The transfiguration locked into place with a thunderous rumble. The battlefield itself had been reshaped.
Morpheus swayed slightly, exhaling hard. Relief flickered across his pale face before he steadied himself. "Good work," he rasped, voice cutting despite exhaustion. He lifted his chin toward the front. "Now—forward again!"
At his command, the Terracotta Army sprang. Hundreds of stone warriors leapt across the ravine in unison, slamming back into the fray with shields raised. Goblins sprinted ahead, blades flashing like wildfire, while witches and wizards raised their wands, unleashing curtains of fire and lightning to suppress the enemy.
The battle surged anew, louder, fiercer, but the shrine defenders had bought themselves ground and hope.
Morpheus turned to Kazuki, his face pale but steady, his eyes like cold fire.
"Give me some time. I need to perform. I need to do something."
Kazuki's blade was slick with black ichor, his chest heaving from exertion. He frowned, lowering it just slightly.
"What?"
Morpheus shook his head, grim, the shadows around his face deepening with the flicker of torchlight.
"As best you do not know," he said softly. "I know you are an honorable man, Kazuki. I am not."
Before Kazuki could press him, Morpheus slipped into the chaos of the retreating soldiers, vanishing into the blur of armor, spellfire, and shouting. Kazuki turned, scanning the field, but Morpheus was gone. His jaw tightened. He cast one last look at the place where the sorcerer had disappeared, then drew a sharp breath and started moving back toward the lines, shoulders heavy with doubt.
⸻
Morpheus reappeared in a chamber beneath the shrine, the air thick with the iron stench of blood. The ritual room had once been a prayer hall—now its stone floor was strewn with the fallen. Goblins. Wizards. Terracotta warriors broken into shards. Their bodies lay in heaps, twisted where they had fallen in battle.
Morpheus knelt among them, his hand trembling slightly as he reached down to close the eyes of a young witch whose face was still frozen in terror. He exhaled slowly, guilt flickering through his chest.
"I am sorry," he whispered. His voice cracked against the stone walls. "Do not worry. Your deaths were not in vain. The demons might have killed you… but you will come back stronger. Even if only for the briefest moment."
He traced a circle of blood around him, his wand clattering down into his other hand. Candles flared to life on their own, flames guttering blue. His voice dropped into a rasping chant, words older than the tongue of man echoing in the chamber. The blood on the ground began to shift, curling into runes. The bodies twitched.
Morpheus's hands pressed harder to the stone, his veins straining against his skin as he poured himself into the ritual.
***
Far away, in Britain, Arcturus swallowed hard, staring at the object. For a moment, his occlumency walls wavered, his mind straining against the pull of so many connections flickering in the air. His lips trembled but he nodded.
And began to work his magic the strain of it all exhausted him but he knew his role and he knew he could do it well.
***
And in Romania—
The mountains were dead silent. The battlefield was littered with still shapes: vampires, every last one of them, turned to stone mid-stride. Their pale faces frozen in snarls, hands outstretched as if reaching for throats that would never come.
But then—
A finger twitched. A shoulder cracked. Stone splintered softly, flakes crumbling away.
Across the valley of broken pillars, the statues of the vampires began to stir.
And the silence broke.