The sun rose behind Draxenhold, painting the plain in crimson light. Twenty-four
thousand Valorian soldiers stirred in their camp—sharpening blades,
stringing bows, raising the golden lion banners that swayed in the morning
wind.
Arthur stood at the front. Through the night he had tried to breach the
runes guarding the walls. The Oculus traced every node, every loop of the
barrier's code, yet all was flawless. When he finally lowered his hands, sweat
poured down his brow. There is no crack… not yet.
He drew a long breath and lifted his sword. His voice trembled but carried
across the host.
"Valoria… today I cannot open the barrier for you. You must march without its
protection. Forgive me. Forgive me, for this is the first order of war I give
without knowing who among you will return alive."
Silence weighed heavy until Lionel Drest stepped forward, his voice steady.
"We are soldiers of Valoria. With or without the barrier, we fight. Give the
command, my king."
Arthur's chest tightened. He raised his sword high.
"Then march! Strike Draxenhold's gates—and return alive!"
From the west came the thunder of hooves. Black banners of Solaris appeared
on the horizon. Twenty thousand soldiers from Veritas, led by
Serath Malrick, had arrived. Alongside them rode the ten thousand
survivors of the frontier, rallying under the same sun banner. Thirty
thousand Solaris formed ranks across the plain.
An adjutant whispered, weary from the long march. "My lord, our men are
exhausted. The march from Veritas was long. Perhaps we should enter the city
first—wait for Valoria—"
A sharp slap cut him off. Serath's glare was cold steel.
"Do you think Arthur will wait until we are ready? We are Solaris! We are
trained to fight even when blood weighs us down. Tell the soldiers—attack now!"
War drums thundered. Thirty thousand voices rose in a cry of war.
Arthur stopped working on the runes. The sound of hooves reached him; the
black sun banners unfurled. His jaw clenched.
"They're here."
Lionel glanced at him. "Your Majesty?"
"Forget the walls," Arthur ordered. "We fight them in the open field."
Two armies crashed together. Swords clashed with spears, flaming arrows
streaked through the air. Valorian qi-knights leapt into the fray, while
Solaris mages called down fire and lightning. Explosions rocked the sky,
screams and steel merging into a single storm.
Arthur carved through the melee, his Dual Blade Dance cutting down
three foes at once. Lionel's shield slammed into enemy ranks, scattering men
like leaves. Above, the mages of Valoria's tower fought Solaris spellcasters,
their clashes bursting into blinding fireballs overhead.
From atop Draxenhold's walls, a Solaris general watched as Serath's lines
began to falter. He raised his hand.
"Open the gates! Ride out! Encircle them outside the walls!"
A trumpet blared. The gates of Draxenhold creaked open, and soldiers poured
forth to join the fray. Arthur looked up, realizing the danger. Solaris pressed
harder, their numbers swelling, encircling Valoria in the open field.
The battle grew bloodier. The ground turned red with blood, the air thick
with ash and dust. Arthur deflected bolts of magic, his swords flashing as he
cut down foe after foe. Though Valoria's warriors fought with unmatched
discipline, Solaris pressed them with sheer weight of numbers.
By dusk, Serath saw the exhaustion in his soldiers' faces. Thousands lay
dead. Solaris had lost fifteen thousand, while Valoria had
fallen by six thousand.
Reluctantly, Serath raised his spear high.
"Retreat! Back to the city! Close the gates!"
The trumpet of Solaris sounded. Survivors fled inside, gates slamming shut
behind them. Arthur stood in the midst of the plain littered with corpses, his
chest heaving, his heart heavy.
"Valoria, return to camp," he ordered hoarsely. "This battle is not yet
done."
Night fell. Fires burned in the Valorian camp. Arthur stood before his
battered soldiers.
"I failed to open the barrier. I sent you forward unprotected, and we bled for
it. That is my fault."
One soldier rose, his face smeared with blood and dirt.
"My king, for Valoria we are ready to die. The lion's banner will never fall."
A ragged chorus followed, faint but resolute. "For Valoria! For Valoria!"
Arthur bowed his head, eyes wet. "So long as I breathe, Valoria will not
fall."
Later, alone in his tent, Arthur opened the Oculus. Images flickered—his
wife's smile, his children's laughter, echoes of a life far away. His hand
reached out, trembling as if he could touch them.
If only I could tell you… that here the weight is heavier than Earth.
That every order takes lives, and every victory is bought with blood.
He closed his eyes, drowning in longing. That night, Arthur was not a king,
not a general—only a husband and father who wished he could go home.