In the days that followed, the world seemed to shift—quietly, but with purpose. The new recruits of the Phoenix drilled from dawn until the sun bled out over the fields, their voices ringing like iron over the clamor of training grounds. Sparks from their blades flashed in the air, as if the gods themselves were watching.
Meanwhile, under General Cobar's relentless command, the armies of Estalis gathered strength like a storm behind darkened clouds. With Marcus and Abner by his side, the general molded farmers and wanderers into soldiers—hard-eyed men and women who moved with the precision of a single, disciplined beast.
Far to the South, the glittering courts of the Azurverda Empire were taking shape. Titles were granted, alliances were forged, and the empire's pulse began to quicken.
General Odin, the war god of the North whose name carried the weight of a hundred victories, was appointed Minister of Defense—his mere presence enough to stiffen the spines of lesser officers.
