The Vale still smoldered....
Even a week after the battle, ash clung to the wind like snow, and the earth bore scars too deep for magic to mend. Loyalists and healers worked tirelessly to recover the wounded and honor the dead, yet something hung in the air an unspoken truth.
This war wasn't over.
It had only just begun.
.....
In the imperial capital of Caer Thariel, banners bearing the mark of the twin moons fluttered, but there was no celebration only tense silence. The Emperor, old and frail, now sat cloistered within his chambers, leaving the Senate scrambling to assert control.
Loyaid Floyen, once a mysterious transfer student, now stood as the empire's most dangerous mage, strategist, and hope.
He had refused medals.
He had refused titles.
What he sought now… was preparation.
....
At the Tower of Vow, the Second Circle reassembled. Their numbers had grown: warriors from every front, mages who had seen what the demons could do, and spies who whispered of darker truths brewing beneath the surface.
But at the center, always, was Loyaid.
He didn't sleep much anymore. He spent hours pouring over tactical maps, ancient spell scrolls, and forbidden archives.
Celia watched him with quiet concern.
You're pushing yourself too hard.
I have to, he replied. The convergence wasn't their only move. They were testing something.
He paused, pulling out a blackened crystal from the battle of Hollow Vale.
"This isn't just demonic magic. It's fused with something else celestial runes."
Elira's eyes narrowed. Someone taught them this.
Loyaid nodded. Which means someone on our side is working against us.
...
They moved out three days later intel from Reich's wind scouts pointed to a demon vanguard moving through the cliffs of Stonegrave Pass.
Loyaid led the strike team himself: twenty elite mages and warriors, silent and deadly as ghosts.
They arrived under the cover of mist. The demon vanguard was larger than expected nearly fifty foot soldiers, flanked by two commanders with flame-forged glaives and crimson armor.
But Loyaid didn't flinch.
Time for a new spell,he muttered.
He placed four crystalized mana runes at strategic cliff points, whispering a new incantation [Mirror Maze] [Binding Reflection]
The spell activated as the demons charged.
Suddenly, illusions of the Second Circle appeared all around them—perfect copies that struck, dodged, and countered like real warriors.
Confused and disoriented, the demons thrashed wildly, slashing at phantoms.
That's when Loyaid moved.
Using a spell of folded light, he leapt behind the first commander, his blade cloaked in
[nullfire], a new enchantment that erased mana on contact.
Slash....
The commander's armor cracked. A ripple of unmagic surged through him and his body fell in pieces before he even understood what hit him.
The second commander rallied, roaring in defiance.
Loyaid didn't stop. He lifted both hands and invoked a new incantation:
"
Let light fracture and shadow bloom [Eclipse Reversal] !
A sphere of pure dark-light imploded over the battlefielderasing the demon commander's next attack and sending him reeling into a rock wall.
Brant and Elira finished him.
By the time the illusions faded, only bodies remained.
None of the Second Circle had taken a scratch.
Back at the Tower, word of the flawless victory spread.
Scholars began calling Loyaid The Arcane Strategist, a title once reserved for war sages. He hated it. But he also knew if it inspired people to fight, to believe he would wear it like armor.
That night, Celia confronted him again.
You used a nullfire blade. That's forbidden magic.
I know.....
Then why....
Because the demons are learning. And if we don't evolve faster than them… we'll lose..
He looked at her, eyes tired but blazing with clarity.
I won't let Max Van's fate repeat. Not this time.
....
But far beneath Caer Thariel, where roots grew like veins and the stone bled crimson, something stirred.
A circle of hooded figures stood before a massive black seal etched into the earth.
"The boy has begun to awaken," one whispered.
Then it's time, another replied. The Crown of Cinders must return.
And with a wave of their hands, the seal cracked.
A low, monstrous breath echoed through the chamber.
....