King Kaden sat back heavily on his throne, the gold beneath him gleaming like sunlight. His eyes flickered across the vast Golden Palace, the walls shimmering with opulence, the city outside gleaming like a golden dream brought to life.

  Everything in his world was made of gold. Golden banners, golden statues, golden vases filled with golden flowers. Each one a testament to his success, to his family’s reign over Golden City for the last few centuries.

  Yet as he leaned forward now, the golden light reflecting in his dark eyes, something unfamiliar stirred in him. A message. Delivered by a golden ethereal bird.

  He felt a faint stir of unease. Who could be sending him a message? He had people for this.

  The bird landed delicately before him, the message it carried dangling from its beak. King Kaden watched the bird for a moment, unsure of what it meant.

  The parchment dropped to his feet and the bird disappeared as quickly as it appeared.

  Kaden bent down to pick up the parchment and it was unfurled. The writing was a chaotic scrawl, the ink blotched and smeared in places, as though it had been written by someone in need of an education.

  King Kaden’s brow furrowed as he read aloud, the words striking him like a blow to the chest.

  "King Kaden, I am Terrance, Grandmaster of the Sword School of Newvale. I bring bad news. A Master, Avaris the Gearsmith, is sending an army of golems from Highhaven, down the northern path to your kingdom. Protect your kingdom at all cost."

  A silence fell over the throne room, the weight of the message pressing down on him like an invisible force. A master? Golems? Highhaven?

  King Kaden’s eyes narrowed as he stared at the words, the sharpness of his mind cutting through the mess of the letter. It made little sense.

  A master? And what was this about Highhaven? Why was someone from so far away in Newvale sending such a troubling warning? He had never heard of Avaris the Gearsmith, and there were no emissaries from the faelands in the halls of his court.

  Kaden sat back in his golden throne, the familiar comfort of his surroundings offering little solace now. The threat of Vor was breathing down Golden City’s neck, his people worn down from the weekly wars. Another Master is going to stretch us further.

  He cared for his kingdom, he always had, but the truth was that he had lived a life of luxury for far too long. He was untouched by the wars, the struggles, and the harshness of the world outside. His people, his soldiers, they were the ones who faced the dangers. He was the ruler, the golden king.

  As he gazed over his court, his eyes landed on two figures standing near the edge of the room, their very presence drawing attention. One, a man whose armor gleamed in the light, stood with the quiet grace of a soldier who had seen the scars of battle etched deeply into his soul. His face was lined with age, but his eyes were as sharp as a hawk’s. Sir Darion, the platinum level swordsman from Ironmire.

  Next to him stood a younger figure, clad in dark leathers. Elias Penthrington, a platinum level rogue whose twin daggers were always at the ready. His face was youthful, but there was something in his eyes. An edge, a hint of something unnatural that didn’t sit well within the room.

  "Sir Darion, Elias Penthrington," King Kaden said. "What do you make of this?"

  Sir Darion stepped forward, his boots clicking on the golden floor, the sound crisp and commanding.

  "Terrance is one of my students," he said. His eyes flicked over to Elias, who was twirling his daggers in an idle yet precise motion, as if the conversation was not enough to hold his attention. "He is cautious, sometimes too cautious. But he has a good head on him."

  Elias gave a small snort, the sound almost imperceptible, but it was enough to catch the attention of those nearby. His fingers never stopped twirling the daggers, the metallic glint of the blades catching the light.

  "Cautious?" he repeated. "That’s a word for Terrance, sure. But the better word is coward. I’ve seen him afraid of a little baby Introductory Master."

  Kaden’s eyes shifted between Elias and Sir Darion, the older knight’s face hardening at the insult. Sir Darion spoke, his voice controlled, but filled with the weight of his years of experience.

  "You disrespect him," Sir Darion said. "Terrance has been cautious, yes. But he’s a good man, and he’s earned my trust. You’ve earned none of mine."

  Elias’s eyes flashed with a quick, sharp anger, but he was quick to suppress it, the flicker of irritation vanishing just as fast as it had come.

  The two were as different as night and day, but both had their place in the conversation, though Kaden was far from impressed with their ongoing bickering.

  "I’m paying so much for the best human platinum adventurers," Kaden said. "I want advice, not bickering between you two."

  Sir Darion, ever the disciplined and honorable knight, stiffened slightly.

  "It is wise," the knight said, "to put a small force to the north. The Golden Legion, even one regiment, would suffice. They could provide a solid defense against any advance from that direction."

  Kaden looked at him with a weary expression, considering the suggestion, but his response was immediate.

  "The entire legion is deployed to the frontlines, up along the Golden Fields." His voice was tinged with frustration. "They are waiting for Vor to strike again.”

  "The entire million-strong legion at the frontline?" Darion asked, a note of genuine admiration creeping into his voice. "Impressive."

  The Golden Legion, after all, was a force to be reckoned with. They were meticulously trained in warfare, to withstand the Master, to protect Golden City and its people. Kaden made sure of that. Yet now, the threats had bubbled over.

  “The reserves remain in Golden City," Kaden said. "They’ll be mobilized quickly if necessary to intercept this golem army."

  "I will send word to General Felix at the frontlines about the change in our defenses," Kaden continued.

  The weight of his crown, the golden throne beneath him, the palace and city built on the riches of generations. All of it rested on his shoulders now.

  ******

  Kael stood in the quiet of his square, the orb’s light reflecting off his skin, but his thoughts were far from the comforts of his territory. His focus was trained on Argarath who was now soaring high above the tumultuous landscape of Vor’s square, the Slaughter Grounds.

  His connection to Argarath, the blue wisp, was stronger than ever, and through the creature’s ethereal form, Kael could see everything laid out before him, the entire battlefield stretched beneath him.

  The sight was nothing short of monstrous. A hundred thousand Skara, the hulking beasts with red scales that Kael had summoned before, stood tall and powerful, wielding stone clubs as if they were toys in their hands. Their low growls echoed across the field, as if the very ground trembled beneath their might.

  They were not alone. Harags, smaller, spiked demons, filled the gaps, each carrying a halberd that seemed to glow with a terrible energy. And then, as though the army of beasts weren’t enough, two fiery dogs, Hellhounds, walked alongside each Skara and Harag.

  Their eyes flickered with hellfire, their jaws dripping with molten flame, the heat from their bodies shimmering in the air.

  Above it all, Argarath flew, his form a streak of light against the blackened sky, a blue streak against the growing storm. He was flanked by a squadron of Dadimauta, white-skinned demons with leathery wings stretched wide. They held sharp steel weapons, their eyes cold and predatory.

  Kael’s mind raced as he watched them all from the wisp’s vantage point. The army of Vor was great, massive, something the Outside Races would had nightmares about. A dark tide of monsters, demons, and fiery beasts, each one more terrifying than the last.

  But it wasn’t just the forces at the ready that held Kael’s attention. It was the Master standing at the top of a stone structure in the center of the square, Vor himself.

  The sight of Vor made Kael’s blood run cold. The demon general, dressed in his ornate armor and helmet, his blazing eyes seething with anticipated violence. Vor stood atop a stone structure at the heart of his square, towering above the battlefield like a god amongst mortals.

  The structure was old, carved from dark stone, and beneath him stood two eight-armed demons, their many hands beating on wardrums with a rhythm that seemed to fuel the anger of the army below.

  And behind Vor, his lieutenants were just as imposing. One of them, a Master even larger than Vor, with pale white skin, stood towering and unblinking, its eyes like pits of darkness. Another, covered in natural bone armor, seemed more like a living weapon than a being.

  But it was the figures just behind them that truly gave Kael pause. More Masters, cloaked in simple black robes with red accents, their faces hidden beneath hoods, but their hands gripped tightly around Demonomicons. They were summoning demons, pulling creatures from the ether.

  “They’re ready,” Kael muttered to himself in his own square. “Vor’s army is ready.”

  Vor stepped forward with the confidence of a Master who knew he was undefeatable, his massive frame looming like a shadow across the square. His lieutenants flanked him, their own presence intimidating. They gathered around the large crystal that lay before them, pulsing with a strange energy.

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  Kael recognized the crystal instantly. The wallbreaking ritual. The very same crystal he had seen used by Avaris.

  Kael’s eyes widened as Vor’s massive hands closed around the crystal, his fingers wrapping around it. Even with the sheer force of a giant trying to crush something delicate, the crystal did not shatter.

  Instead, it began to glow, its light pulsing as mana seeped from Vor, flowing into the crystal. The energy within the stone swirled and churned, brighter and brighter with each passing moment.

  A roar escaped from Vor’s throat, a primal sound, the effort and mana for the wallbreaker ritual to work. It was unmistakable. The ritual was completed.

  The shockwave that erupted when Vor shattered the crystal with his bare hands was like what Kael felt in Avaris’s square. The power reverberated through the square, through Argarath and to Kael’s bones.

  Vor powered the ritual by himself, Kael thought. No need for subterfuge, minions or anything else. Just him.

  The blue walls cracked and splintered under the immense pressure, the walls shattering like glass, falling to pieces with the ritual. The world had been opened wide.

  With a savage grin, Vor lifted his dual battleaxes, the weapons glowing with a smoldering primordial demon flame. He scraped their edges on his stone structure, as if testing its sharpness, leaving molten rock in its wake.

  Vor lifted his axes high into the air, his bellowing voice ringing across the square.

  “Kill!” His eyes were burning wild.

  “Win!” A call to arms that had been answered by thousands before him.

  “Die!” A rallying cry for his army of monsters and demons to march to their deaths in the name of victory.

  The sound of the war drums echoed through the square, louder now, their rhythmic beat pushing the demon army forward, as if driving them toward their inevitable destruction. The tempo of the drums grew faster, wilder.

  The forces of destruction had no restraint. It charged, spilled forth and engulfed everything in their path. It was what Kael had expected, what he had planned for.

  The wisp, the small glowing ball of blue energy, darted through the air following the horde as Kael watched the scene through Argarath’s eyes.

  But Kael had to be careful. He couldn’t afford for anyone to see Argarath involved. The wisp’s glow had always been a dead giveaway, but if he could fly ahead of the sun, there would be no chance for any would-be onlookers to catch the trail of magic.

  “Argarath, get closer to the front lines,” Kael commanded, his voice firm. “Let me see more. We need to know what we’re dealing with.”

  Beneath him, the Golden Legion was massing. Kael’s eyes caught the lines of soldiers, neatly organized, the precision and order of it almost mocking the chaos of Vor’s horde. This was an army, a true military force.

  Kael had heard about the Golden Legion from Vor. The elite human forces that protected Golden City. Each soldier was at least silver level, their armor gleaming gold in the light. The shields they carried reflected the same golden glow, their spears held in tight formation, a perfect line of defense against any invader.

  The way the lines stretched across the open expanse of the Golden Fields, the sheer breadth of their formation, was an imposing sight. The shield wall stretched as far as Kael could see, a massive, impenetrable force ready for anything.

  Through Argarath’s eyes, Kael saw the mass of demons charging toward them, a dark, seething mass, all rushing to the wall like an unstoppable wave. But the Golden Legion held firm, their shields locked, their spears poised, their formation unwavering as the demon horde bore down upon them.

  Then, something caught Kael’s attention. The Griffins.

  Another part of the Golden Legion’s forces, Vor told him. Creatures with the heads of lions and bodies of eagles, mounted by riders in golden armor. Kael could see them through Argarath’s eyes as they rose from the ranks of the Golden Legion. The Griffin Riders were a fearsome sight, their Hammers of Lightning crackling with magical energy.

  The sky above the battlefield cracked like thunder as the Griffins descended, and in an instant, the air was filled with the booming sound of lightning. Blasts of lightning shot from the hammers, slamming into the front lines of the demon army. The arcs of electricity cut through the demons in an instant, their bodies writhing in the air before collapsing in a heap.

  The first few demons fell, their bodies charred and smoking, but the majority of them kept charging. It was as though they had been prepared for such losses, pushing forward despite the heavy toll the magic had taken.

  The Golden Legion held their ground, but the sheer mass of the horde was beginning to reach them. Each blast of lightning, each swing of a hammer, each strike of the griffins seemed to slow the tide, but the demons were relentless.

  But then, something shifted.

  The Golden Legion was ready. They were not standing still, waiting for the enemy to charge into their formation. They were moving, reacting, preparing.

  The soldiers, a million strong, moved as one. Javelins gleamed in the sunlight, long and sharp, their edges catching the light. The soldiers leaned back in unison, and threw their javelin as one.

  It was truly a sight, the sky filled with javelins, blocking out the sun as they streaked downwards. These were no ordinary weapons, Kael noticed. Each one had a small gem embedded at its tip, glittering and shining.

  The javelins landed with thunderous force. The force of the explosion sent plumes of earth and smoke into the sky.

  The vanguard of Vor’s forces were decimated in an instant. Bodies were flung through the air, torn apart and scattered in every direction.

  So this is what they can do, Kael thought.

  It was a stunning victory, a powerful strike that left Kael breathless with its raw, overwhelming force.

  But it didn’t last.

  Despite the destruction, despite the death and chaos that had been wrought, the demon horde didn’t stop. They didn’t even hesitate. More Skara, more Harags, and even more Hellhounds kept coming, pressing forward, relentless and undeterred. Their numbers seemed endless, a dark tide that washed over the shattered remains of their fallen comrades, determined to reach the Golden Legion no matter the cost.

  Kael’s focus narrowed as he watched through Argarath's eyes, the blue wisp darting through the smoke-filled sky, giving him a vantage point above the chaos below.

  He could see the Golden Legion adjusting their formations, moving with precision. Each soldier in perfect sync, their spears pointed outward. They were an organized force, a disciplined wall that would have been near impossible to breach in any other scenario.

  The soldiers stood in tight ranks, their shields raised and locked together, their spears thrusting outward in unison, piercing the air in rhythmic precision. Their helms covered the top halves of their faces yet Kael could see the nervous quiver of the soldiers.

  The first of Vor’s demons slammed into the Golden Legion’s line with a force that could have shattered any lesser defense. The clash was deafening. The sound of gold meeting bone and flesh, the shrieks of demons mingling with the shouts of soldiers. The air was thick with the stench of blood, smoke, and sweat.

  Kael could see the Golden Legion hold their ground, their spears stabbing forward again and again, punctuating each thrust with commands and shouts. The demons met each blow with brute force, their claws slashing, their jaws snapping, their massive forms pushing against the human wall.

  But despite their valor, the Golden Legion was beginning to tire. The demons kept coming, their numbers endless. For every demon that fell, another replaced it, an unyielding tide that seemed to grow stronger with every passing second.

  Bodies began to pile up, the dead demons forming a grisly barricade, adding weight to the Golden Legion's defenses. The corpses of demons clung to the soldiers' armor, slowing their movements, making their shields feel heavier with each kill.

  Vor’s forces, a relentless horde of destruction, pressed forward with no thought for the lives lost in their wake. But above the battlefield, through Argarath's sharp gaze, the sky had become a battleground of its own as Griffin Riders and Dadimauta clashed.

  The air was filled with a constant thunderclap. A sound that echoed through the heavens. Each strike was a flash of light, a burst of thunder, and another demon falling from the sky, its leathery wings torn apart by the power of the Griffins' claws and talons.

  The Dadimauta, those white-skinned demons with leathery wings, had been relentless in their attack. But the Griffin Riders, their golden armor gleaming in the sunlight, were cutting through them with merciless grace.

  But one Griffin Rider stood out among the rest.

  The Griffin that flew before Argarath’s eyes was white as snow. The rider atop it was clad in golden armor, his cape of gold billowing behind him like a banner in the wind. In his right hand, he gripped a hammer of lightning, the weapon crackling with arcane energy, while his left hand held a large lance, the tip sharp and deadly.

  Kael saw the Griffin rider swoop down into the fray. The rider crossed his weapons, the lightning that crackled around them grew fiercer. The entire body of the Griffin seemed to vibrate with power, as if the very creature was made from a storm.

  As the rider held his lance up to his face, Kael saw it. Apparitions.

  Several ethereal apparitions appeared beside the rider. They were like ghosts, fleeting and ephemeral, but Kael could see the way they followed the rider’s movements, perfectly synchronized.

  Together, they descended on the demon horde, charging through the ranks of the demons with terrifying ease. Each apparition and each rider struck as one, their weapons weaving in perfect harmony. The demons that came within range were thrown into the air, their bodies torn apart by the force of the blows.

  The Golden Legion’s front line shield wall gained some breathing space, the demon advance faltering as the Griffin Rider and his spectral companions made their charge. It was a moment of reprieve amidst the chaos that gave the Golden Legion a chance to regroup.

  This must be Felix Thunderhands, the Golden Legion commander, Kael thought. A Gold-level cavalier-class adventurer, a legend among Golden City.

  Kael watched as Felix Thunderhands and his griffin rose back into the sky, the lightning dissipating into the air as the rider prepared for another charge. His ethereal apparitions vanishing as quickly as they had come.

  For a moment, Kael allowed himself a thought that drifted into his mind unbidden. Could Shadow have wings? The question lingered there, more of a curiosity than anything else, but it was one Kael couldn't shake.

  Could his own shadowy mount, his dark, ethereal horse, gain the ability to fly? The thought intrigued him, and he imagined the power that could be wielded if Shadow were granted the same strength that Felix’s Griffin had. Would he be as powerful as Felix?

  But now was not the time for such distractions.

  The frontlines of the Golden Legion were holding for the moment, but Kael could sense the unease beginning to ripple through the soldiers.

  It was Vor.

  Vor towered above everything. He was a beast of war, a titan, and Kael could feel the raw power emanating from him as he walked, his molten battleaxes raised high.

  The Golden Legion stiffened at the sight of him, their spears still held firmly in place, but there was hesitation in their eyes. They had seen Vor’s power before—they knew what he could do, and yet they had no choice but to stand firm. The Golden Legion was giving everything they had to hold the line. But Kael knew, deep down, that it wasn’t enough.

  And then, the explosion.

  A javelin hurtled through the air, landing squarely on Vor’s towering form, the explosion deafening. The Golden Legion soldiers cheered for a brief moment, but it quickly turned to a silence.

  Vor emerged from the smoke as if nothing had happened, his form barely even shaken by the explosion. The Golden Legion’s brief moment of triumph evaporated into fear as they saw Vor continue his march forward, unfazed. He kept walking, each step causing the earth beneath him to quake.

  Kael knew the moment was coming. The first line of defense was about to fall. Vor raised his molten axes high, and with one mighty swing, the shield wall of soldiers was broken. The sheer force of the strike cleaved through the ranks of the Golden Legion like a hot knife through gold.

  The Golden Legion drew their swords, desperate to fight back. Their courage, while admirable, was no match for Vor’s fury. Vor swung his molten axes in wide arcs, his movements fast and brutal, cutting through the soldiers like wheat before a scythe.

  One soldier’s shield shattered, his body cleaved in half by a single swing of Vor’s weapon. Another tried to dodge, only to be crushed underfoot as Vor stepped forward with the weight of a falling mountain.

  But Kael knew this wasn’t the end of the battle. Not according to his plan.

  ******