SOMEWHERE IN THE OUTWORLD, A PLACE BEYOND HUMAN REACH...
The battlefield was a slaughterhouse—bodies littered the ground, their lifeless eyes reflecting the flames consuming the once-glorious plains. The air reeked of burning flesh, sweat, and the metallic tang of blood. Every scream of agony was swallowed by the clash of steel, the explosion of arcane artillery, and the dull, sickening thuds of bodies hitting the ground.
Amidst the chaos, she stood.
A vision of both grace and terror, the Queen of the Vida was a celestial nightmare. Her wings—now slick with blood, both hers and her enemies'—spread wide, making her look like an angel that had descended from the heavens only to bathe in carnage.
She wielded her blade, Luminara, a weapon forged from divine light itself, cutting down the twisted, fanatical soldiers of Solmiel. They came in endless waves—pale-skinned, hollow-eyed, their bodies reinforced with celestial armor that pulsed with unnatural energy. Each one was a puppet, their wills broken and reshaped by Solmiel's unholy decree.
Beside her, her four guardians, each an embodiment of divine power, waged war against Solmiel's creations.
The Lion-faced Guardian, clad in burning gold, crushed soldiers underfoot with each step, his roars shaking the battlefield, sending foes reeling before he tore through them with his radiant claws.
The Ox-faced Guardian, a beast of brutal strength, wielded a hammer that cracked the very fabric of reality. Each swing shattered the ground, turning Solmiel's soldiers into twisted remnants of what they once were.
The Eagle-faced Guardian, a storm given form, rained down bolts of celestial fire, his wings slicing through the air like razor-edged spears. His talons tore through armor, leaving only ribbons of flesh behind.
The Man-faced Guardian, the wisest and most calculating of them, moved like an executioner, his blade cutting with precision, severing heads before his enemies even realized they had fallen.
The 24 Generals of Vida, each a warrior of unparalleled skill, wove through the battlefield, their presence shifting the tides of war. They fought like avenging gods, their bodies moving faster than the human eye could follow. Some wielded spears that tore through enemy ranks in a single thrust, others commanded flames hotter than hellfire, incinerating entire squadrons of Solmiel's zealots in moments.
The battlefield was a nightmare made flesh—the ground slick with blood, bodies piled upon bodies, limbs severed and discarded as the Vida forces clashed against Solmiel's army. The air reeked of burning flesh and desperation. Vida warriors, their eyes blazing with the unyielding will of their queen, fought with a ferocity that defied mortality. But Solmiel's forces… they felt no pain, no fear. Even when their limbs were severed, they crawled forward, their mouths whispering his divine name in reverence, dragging their ruined bodies to tear at Vida warriors with broken fingers and shattered teeth.
The Queen cut down another wave of enemies, her blade slicing through bone and armor with ease. She barely paused as she turned to face her next challenge—one of Solmiel's High Priests, a wretched, glowing figure adorned in robes of pure white, his skeletal fingers gripping a staff carved from the bones of fallen Vida warriors.
"You resist the inevitable," the Priest sneered, eyes filled with an unnatural, golden light. "Our Lord has decreed your end."
The Queen narrowed her eyes, then in a blur, her blade found his throat. A gurgled prayer left his lips as his head separated from his body, rolling across the blood-drenched battlefield.
Before she could advance further, one of her elders—his armor cracked, blood leaking from a wound on his temple—rushed to her side, breathless.
"My Queen… I bring news." His voice was ragged, but his urgency was undeniable.
"Speak," she commanded, even as she deflected an incoming attack with a flick of her wrist, impaling another enemy soldier through the chest without looking.
The elder swallowed hard, his voice laced with something rare—fear. "It's Solmiel… He has entered the human realm. And he has already begun his work."
For the first time in the battle, the Queen paused. A dark shadow flickered across her face. She could already imagine what horrors he had wrought upon the fragile human world. Her grip on Luminara tightened until her knuckles turned white.
"Tell me… what has he done?"
The elder hesitated, eyes flickering with something dangerously close to grief.
And then he spoke.
And the Queen felt rage unlike anything she had ever known.
She hacked through an enemy soldier, his body splitting in two, his organs spilling out in a steaming heap. Without breaking stride, she twirled and unleashed a storm of light, vaporizing another squadron of Solmiel's fanatical warriors. Their screams melted into nothingness as their flesh turned to ash.
But the tide was shifting.
"My Queen, we can't hold out much longer!" one of her four guardians roared, his breath ragged as he impaled an enemy through the skull before hurling his weapon like a spear, piercing another soldier's heart.
The Queen's sharp gaze swept over the battlefield. He was right. Her people—warriors feared even by gods—were being torn apart. Limbs flew, Vida warriors were dismembered, their divine strength no match for Solmiel's cursed legion.
What made it worse… was the child.
Instinctively, she touched the small, fragile weight strapped to her back. A child whose very existence was a paradox—a force so powerful it bound her strength, allowing only 5% of her full might to manifest. She gritted her teeth. The battlefield was turning into a mass grave, and it was because of him.
The sound of rushing wind—a killing intent unlike any other.
She spun just in time, barely dodging an attack by a hair's breadth. The speed was inhuman, but her reaction was flawless. Using the momentum, she conjured a blade of pure light in an instant and brought it down on the blur that had nearly taken her life.
A sharp gasp escaped the Super Soldier's lips as her weapon sank deep into his shoulder. He staggered back, blood trickling from his mouth, yet even as he bled, he grinned.
"So it's true," he sneered, licking the blood from his lips. "The great Queen of the Vida has been weakened."
Her expression darkened. "And you talk too much."
With a single vicious swing, she beheaded him. His body dropped lifelessly, blood spraying in a grotesque arc before she planted her sword into the ground, her legs trembling.
She was getting weaker.
The First guardian was beside her in an instant, gripping her arm.
In the blink of an eye, they had retreated to their last stronghold, their camp—a place that now felt more like a death row chamber. From a distance, the rumbling of super-powered artillery could be heard. The final blow was coming.
"My Queen," the Second guardian knelt before her. "You must let go of the child."
"Please, my Queen," the Fourth guardian added. "We all know he is your beloved son, but his innate power has sealed most of yours. You are vulnerable. At your weakest."
The First guardian exhaled deeply. "Sometimes, letting go is the greatest act of love."
She didn't respond. She only sighed—a sound so soft it was nearly inaudible.
"...Just let go."
No one heard her whisper.
Instead, she lifted her chin, forcing strength into her voice.
"How long until those pigs reach us?"
"Less than twenty minutes," a wounded scout responded, his body barely knitting itself back together as he clutched his bleeding side.
"It will be enough."
Summoning every last ounce of power, she tore open a portal.
A hush fell over the warriors. Their Queen—a woman too proud to seek aid—was summoning help. Who could be worthy of such an honor?
The answer came swiftly.
A man stepped through the portal, the very air around him warping as if time itself bent to his presence. He was impossibly handsome, dressed in a flawless black suit, his every movement dripping with arrogant ease.
Murmurs rippled through the army.
The Fourth guardian narrowed his eyes. "Isn't that… the Time lord?"
"No." The First guardian corrected in a whisper. "That is Time itself."
The man smirked. "It's been a Eva".
"I don't have much time to explain Kairos but I'm cashing in the favor you owe me. please save this child for", Eva unstrapped the baby from her back, she looked at him fondly and kissing him on the cheek before handing him to Kairos.
"seriously, now I'm babysitting ", Kairos raised a beow in annoyance.
"seriously just go", Eva clicked her tongue in annoyance before kicking Kairos hard sending him flying but before he could fall on the ground the time stream open behind as he fell through it.
Eva could hear him cursing but she trusted him to tack the child to a safe place.
Having tied the lose ends she called out to her remaining men.
"rally on me", the four guardians quickly surrounded her them followed by the 24 generals before the soldiers left of the Vida's army followed suit.
The sky above the battlefield cracked open like shattered glass, a rift forming in the heavens. From its depths, bathed in divine radiance, a figure descended—the man in the white robe.
The Vida's Queen, still weak from her wager with Time, lifted her head as the battlefield fell silent. Every warrior, ally and enemy alike, felt an overwhelming force press down upon them.
The first guardian gasped. "That… that is not a man. That is something beyond men."
The soldiers of the Vida's forces trembled, their weapons suddenly feeling inadequate in their hands. Even the soldiers, those enhanced with power of solmiel beyond human comprehension, took cautious steps back.
The man in white smiled, his radiant halo burning even brighter. "It has been some time since I have set foot in this world," he mused. "And it appears I have arrived just in time."
His gaze fell upon the Queen, who, despite her exhaustion, refused to kneel. "So, you are the one who birthed the child that bends fate itself," he said, intrigued. "How fascinating."
The Queen clenched her fists, determination flaring in her dimming eyes. "Who… are you?" she demanded.
The man chuckled. "I am the Voice of the Seven Stars," he said. "And I am here to reshape this war."
The first guardian's breath hitched. "My Queen… we may have just met something far worse than the solmiel forces."
The Queen, feeling the weight of the battle, the loss of her people, and the unknown power before her, took a slow, deep breath. She glanced at the mark on her wrist—the symbol of the Zoe's.
"Nothing great comes without sacrifice," she whispered to herself.
Then, she straightened her spine, wings unfolding once more, and met the white-robed man's gaze without fear.
"Then let's see if your claims as a god are stronger than my will."
and with a roar she charged for a last stand and her army followed behind with their eyes burning fervently with determination.