The winds howled low beneath the engines of the Unbound.
The kruisers roared across the cracked terrain, their humming cores trailing dust like dragon smoke across the morning sky. Metal plating shimmered, cables glowing faintly along their flanks. At the helm of the lead vehicle, Jeriana sat in absolute control, a sleek helmet wrapped over her head, glowing cords linking her consciousness to the artifact she commanded.
Inside, the Unbound rode in silence—two lines of warriors seated along the right and left interior walls, facing one another. Their eyes remained steady. Their hands gripped whatever they trusted most.
Omfry tilted his head, watching Jeriana work. "How I wish I could drive one of these."
Beily chuckled, arms folded across his thick chest. "Too bad only mages can. I always wanted to drive one too."
Valerius, sitting beside Eliana with his legs swinging just above the floor, leaned in close and whispered, "Hey… why can't they drive this thing?"
Eliana turned slightly, strands of hair brushing her cheek as she smirked. "Oh yeah… you're not from here. What we're riding in is an artifact. One of many left behind by an ancient civilization. They're powered by mana."
"Mana?" Valerius echoed. "What's that?"
"It's an energy some people have if they're born with the ability to use vitalis," she said. "It's how I cast spells. Not everyone has it. It's only something you can generate if you can use vitalis." She gestured subtly toward Omfry and Dreados. "And yet, those two… they're ridiculously strong. I can feel it. But neither of them has a trace of mana. It doesn't make sense."
Valerius frowned in thought. "I remember Kaelan saying something like that… something about energy in this world. Some use it for magic, others for…" He shrugged. "I don't remember. I just hope things go well."
Then—without warning—Omfry, Dreados, Beily, and Anuel all turned their heads at once, their gazes locking toward the rear of the kruiser with perfect synchronization.
Omfry grinned, sharp canines catching the light. "You feel that, Dreados?"
Dreados spoke without moving. "Oh, I do, Omfry… I do."
Jeriana's voice crackled through the cabin, low and amused. "Search."
She narrowed her eyes and smiled beneath her helmet. "Ignir."
From within Anuel's pack, a soft chime rang out as her strek—a pen-like communication device—activated with a sharp crack. She fished it out and held it to her mouth. "Yes?"
Sumshus's voice buzzed through the crystal. "We're being followed. Far off, but not too far. Might be trouble. Orders?"
Anuel didn't hesitate. "Nothing. Let them follow."
"You serious?" he asked.
"I'm always serious," she said coolly. "Dreados has a plan."
She clicked the strek off and slipped it back into her bag.
Far behind them, inside the second kruiser, Gustein sat with eyes closed and hands pressed together. He muttered under his breath, a nervous prayer barely louder than the engine hum.
"Please don't let me die… I still have a long life ahead of me. I haven't gotten rich yet. I haven't started a family. Please, gods, don't let this be my grave."
Sumshus glanced at him, then smirked. "Hey, look—we've got a religious one here."
Laughter broke out across the cabin. The others chuckled and slapped their thighs.
Sumshus leaned back and tightened his seat harness. "Why do you even pray to those so-called gods? It's not like they've ever done anything for us. Where were they when we begged them for mercy? For food? For help?" He pulled the strap across his chest. "So—who you praying to, huh? Tell me, so I can curse his name."
Gustein said nothing. But in his heart, he muttered:
You damn heretic.
The terrain ahead began to shift.
Massive shapes rose on the horizon—dark, snarling beasts that prowled the rocky path like sentinels of nature itself. Dozens of them gathered, teeth bared and claws scraping the stone, forming a wall of living muscle across the road.
The kruiser didn't slow.
From the front, Jeriana's voice rang out with eerie calm. "Don't worry. I'll take care of this."
She raised two fingers before her visor and whispered: "Brekdena Lubrikel."
Flames danced into the air.
A massive lion, forged entirely of fire, materialized before the charging kruiser. Its body flickered and shimmered with molten energy, its eyes glowing like twin suns.
"Burn them all," Jeriana commanded.
The beast bolted forward, galloping with impossible speed. It stopped suddenly and lowered its stance. Its chest glowed brighter—hotter—until the light within reached blinding intensity.
Then it roared.
The sound tore through the canyon like the scream of a dying god.
From its mouth exploded a beam of searing fire. The beam carved into the land, turning earth to ash, rocks to vapor. Beasts tried to scatter—but it was too late. One by one, they were engulfed, their bodies disintegrating into flaming embers and smoke.
The lion swept its head left, then right, spraying the battlefield with annihilation. Nothing remained in its wake but scorched craters and rising steam.
Inside the kruiser, no one spoke.
The road was clear.
---
Eliana's eyes widened. Her voice rose sharply. "She's a summoner? How do you have a summoner?!"
But the Unbound didn't even blink. No surprise. No reaction. It was as if such power was normal. Expected.
Dreados smirked.
Omfry, his arms folded, leaned back against the kruiser wall. His head tilted upward, eyes closed as if drifting to sleep.
"Little girl," he said casually, "who do you think we are? You think we're some ragtag band of criminals?"
He opened his eyes slowly, turning them toward her without lifting his head.
"All of us were handpicked by Dreados himself. Every single one of us...is gifted."
Then his voice dropped, steady and heavy like an ancient tolling bell.
"We...are the Black March."
The words struck Eliana like a blade between the ribs. Her breath hitched.
That name… that name was never meant to be spoken near her.
She'd seen it only in classified reports. On burning headlines. On wanted posters buried beneath red tape and blood.
Mass murderers… kingdom destroyers… they leveled cities, erased bloodlines.
Her hands trembled.
I've been sleeping next to them… eating their food… laughing with them?
She stared at the floor, her eyes wide, disbelief crushing down on her chest. She clenched the fabric of her clothes with trembling fingers.
Valerius leaned closer. "Hey… are you okay?"
But Eliana didn't respond. Her thoughts spiraled.
They fed us… did they poison us?
No—no, Mom… she's still back at their base.
I have to escape… I have to—
She began forming a spell, her fingers twitching in preparation. But before the mana could surge—
A voice cleaved the air like a guillotine.
"Don't try anything stupid… or my hospitality... ends."
Dreados.
He hadn't even raised his voice, and yet Eliana felt a weight drop into her lungs. She froze, breath shaky.
"You didn't have to say that, Omfry," Dreados added, turning his head slightly. "Now you've frightened the poor girl."
The conversation died like a flame drowned in oil.
Jeriana snapped her fingers from the pilot's seat. The kruiser lifted off the ground with a soft hum, floating over the scorched craters left behind by the fire-lion's wrath. Below them, the massive beast sat like a monument of flame, its burning mane trailing cinders as it watched them pass.
"Thanks, Saly," Jeriana said. "You can go back now."
The lion blinked—and vanished into thin air.
Beily frowned. "Saly? You gave that thing a name?"
Jeriana smirked. "Why not? You've got a name. And she's been a good girl. She deserved one."
"She?" Beily muttered. "You know what—forget it."
The kruiser descended again, touching down with a low hiss before continuing toward the ruin.
Valerius glanced out the window, heart still thumping.
That woman can summon a fire monster? It's like… anything is possible in this world. What the hell are these people…?
Opposite him, Eryndor watched the horizon pass, his eyes calm.
This world never ceases to bewilder me. Every mile unveils another marvel—some beautiful, some terrifying, all humbling. The deeper we travel, the clearer it becomes: Yilheim is no land for the weak of heart.
---
Far behind them, the Ignir forces had reached the edge of the charred canyon. Smoke drifted upward from the scorched craters left by Saly's flame.
Two hundred and fifty kruisers hovered at the cliff's edge, silent and still.
One scout returned, dropping to a knee before the Elf King. "My lord, the crater is too deep and far too wide. I recommend we go around it."
The King narrowed his eyes, silver pauldrons gleaming beneath the light. "No. We waste no time. With each passing breath, my daughter drifts further beyond my reach. We go across. "
His voice carried a melodic weight—elevated, commanding.
"If the path is broken, then we shall bridge it."
Through the thought stream, his voice reached the mage's mind.
Maloi. I require a bridge.
Maloi unbuckled her harness, rising from her seat.
Lizzy tilted her head. "Where are you going?"
"The king asked for a bridge," Maloi replied.
She stepped down from the back of the kruiser, her boots landing on cracked stone. She sniffed the air, frowning.
"…What's that smell? Burnt flesh?"
She raised her hand. "Search."
In an instant, her mana extended across the ground like invisible roots. She felt everything—the corpses of charred beasts, the scorched terrain, the echo of a summoned flame.
"High-tier fire magic… someone wiped these creatures out with ease," she muttered.
Then she raised her foot and stomped the earth.
The ground rumbled.
From both sides of the crater, stone rose like converging waves, shaping into a massive bridge. It spanned the gap with terrifying precision, wide enough for five kruisers to pass side by side.
Maloi returned to her seat.
The march resumed.
---
An hour passed.
And then—they arrived.
The forest was unnaturally quiet.
Massive trees surrounded the clearing, each trunk wide as a tower. Between their roots and branches stood a single structure—stone, old, and still. It rose no higher than a house, but every inch of it pulsed with age and presence.
Its doorway—arched, sealed—was made of dark yeru stone, etched with glowing inscriptions. It felt less like a building and more like a lock on the world itself.
Dreados's kruiser came to a halt.
Thousands of hidden presences surrounded them—buried beneath the earth, cloaked in invisibility, hiding behind trees or stones. Silent. Patient.
Omfry smirked. "Do they think they can hide from us?"
Dreados stepped out slowly. "They deserve points for patience."
Among the watchers were Orian and his crew, cameras armed and silent. Weapons ready. Waiting.
The siblings stepped out of the kruiser, unaware of the sheer number of eyes upon them.
Eryndor stared at the structure ahead. "So this… is the Beniek Ruin. Modest in scale, perhaps—but ancient in spirit."
Anuel jerked her chin toward Ziraiah. "Alright. Do your thing."
---
Ziraiah stepped forward alone.
The towering stone door loomed before her—ancient, imposing, etched in glowing runes older than memory. She placed her hand gently on its surface, brushing her fingers across the inscriptions.
"This is Synelee," she whispered.
Eryndor and Valerius moved beside her, their eyes tracing the markings.
"Synelee, huh…" Valerius murmured.
Ziraiah read aloud, her voice soft but steady. "If you wish to enter our kingdom, simply speak the words of our people… or prove your lineage."
Eryndor's gaze sharpened. "Speak the words of our people…"
"Prove your lineage?" Ziraiah repeated. "How are we supposed to do that?"
Without waiting, she raised her hand again—this time, she pressed her palm flat against the cold stone.
A sudden crack of force.
"Ahhh!" Ziraiah screamed.
A violent pulse of energy exploded from the door, blasting her backward. She flew through the air—until she collided with Dreados's chest. He caught her without flinching.
Her Armour had been cut through and blood ran from her palm. A deep gash had been carved into her skin.
"Ziraiah!" Valerius and Eryndor shouted, rushing toward her.
Valerius's voice cracked as he reached them. "What did you do?! You're bleeding!"
But Ziraiah didn't answer. She stared at her palm—at the blood—and then at the door.
The runes across the stone began to glow violently.
Where her blood had touched, the symbols pulsed with brilliant white light, weaving into patterns that hadn't been seen in thousands of years. The ground trembled beneath their feet.
A ripple of anticipation ran through the forest.
Hidden among the trees, the waiting Unbound began to smile.
Weapons slid from sheaths.
Claws extended.
Blades gleamed.
Eyes shimmered with greed.
The stone door groaned—then slowly began to sink into the ground, opening with a deep, grinding hum.
The tension in the air tightened like a bowstring.
Dreados didn't hesitate.
He reached forward and tapped the blue plates on the chest of Valerius, Eryndor, and Ziraiah's Arch Armor. The moment his fingers made contact, their helmets formed around their heads with a mechanical hiss—sealing them in full armor.
"Anuel," Dreados commanded. "Take the girl."
Anuel nodded and stepped forward. Dreados passed Ziraiah into her arms like precious cargo.
"Beily."
Without a word, Beily scooped Valerius and Eryndor under each arm like bags of gear, his expression flat.
The moment the door finished opening, Dreados's team moved.
They vanished—bolting into the darkness of the ruin in a flash of speed so intense it shook the earth. The ground behind them cracked from the force of their launch.
Mere milliseconds later, the rest followed.
Dozens of Unbound surged forward—then hundreds, their numbers continued to increases reaching tens of thousands, charging through the door like bullets.
The wind from their movement snapped branches and bent trees. Leaves scattered like ash. The ancient forest groaned under the sheer force of their stampede.
And now… the gates to the ruin were open.
The blood had been spilled.
The words had been spoken.
The carnage would soon begin.
To Be Continued...