The guards rushed toward the prison cell, their boots pounding against the stone corridors. Moments ago, an explosion had shaken the dungeon, rattling the walls and sending dust raining from the ceiling.
What greeted them froze them where they stood.
The iron bars of the cell had been twisted and blown apart. Black scorch marks crawled across the stone walls like claw marks from some monstrous beast. The air reeked of smoke and burnt flesh.
And the prisoner was gone.
Only the charred corpses of two guards remained, their armor melted into their bodies, their faces forever twisted in terror.
For a long moment, nobody spoke.
"What... what happened here?" one guard finally whispered, his voice trembling.
The others stared in stunned silence, unable to comprehend what they were seeing. The prisoner had been barely alive when he was thrown into that cell. He should have been dead.
Yet somehow, he had escaped.
Panic began to spread among the guards.
One of them turned and sprinted through the castle halls.
"My lord! My lord!" he shouted as he ran.
The massive doors of the throne room burst open with a thunderous crash.
Inside, King Aldric sat upon his throne, surrounded by nobles and advisors. The sudden interruption caused every eye in the room to turn toward the exhausted guard.
The man fell to one knee, struggling to catch his breath.
"My lord!"
The king opened his mouth to speak, but the guard blurted out the words before he could.
"The boy escaped!"
Silence swallowed the throne room.
The king's eyes widened.
"What?"
For the first time in many years, genuine shock crossed his face.
That was impossible.
He had personally overseen the removal of Arcos's Aetherium. Every last fragment had been taken.
Without it, survival itself should have been impossible.
No one lived after losing all of their Aetherium.
No one.
Yet somehow, the boy had not only survived...
He had escaped.
The king rose slowly from his throne, his mind racing.
How?
How was he still alive?
How did he still possess the strength to stand?
To walk?
To run?
It defied everything he knew.
The guard remained kneeling, waiting for orders.
The king's expression hardened.
"Find him."
The words came out cold and sharp.
The guard immediately rose.
"Yes, my lord!"
Without another word, he turned and sprinted from the throne room.
The king remained standing in silence.
The nobles whispered amongst themselves, but he paid them no attention.
Instead, he walked toward the enormous glass window overlooking the kingdom.
The setting sun painted the horizon in shades of crimson and gold.
Normally, the sight would have brought him peace.
Today, it only deepened his frustration.
His reflection stared back at him from the glass.
A king burdened by too many threats.
He clenched his fists behind his back.
"I cannot focus on everything at once..."
His voice was barely more than a whisper.
For several moments, he simply stared out across the distant lands.
Then he sighed heavily.
"First the orcs..."
His jaw tightened.
"And now this boy who simply refuses to die."
The words dripped with irritation.
No matter what obstacles he removed, new ones seemed to appear.
The kingdom's borders were already under pressure from growing Orc warbands.
Now Arcos had become another problem.
A dangerous one.
The king closed his eyes.
"I must choose where to focus my efforts."
His gaze drifted toward the eastern horizon.
Toward lands beyond his kingdom.
"Perhaps..."
A dark thought formed in his mind.
"Perhaps it is time to seek assistance from the Valdyros Imperium once more."
Even speaking the name left a bitter taste in his mouth.
The empire's influence was dangerous.
But desperate times demanded desperate measures.
More specifically...
"The High Council of Aetherion."
If anyone understood what Arcos had become, it would be them.
And if anyone could stop him...
It would be them.
Far from the castle, deep within an ancient forest, another battle was being fought.
A battle against exhaustion.
Against pain.
Against death itself.
A lone figure stumbled between towering trees.
Branches snapped beneath his feet.
His breathing was ragged.
Every step felt heavier than the last.
Then his legs finally gave out.
Arcos crashed to the ground.
Pain exploded through his body.
He gritted his teeth as dirt and leaves pressed against his face.
For a moment, he simply lay there.
Unable to move.
Unable to think.
His body screamed for rest.
His vision blurred.
His muscles felt as though they had been torn apart from within.
Slowly, he lifted his head.
The world spun around him.
Then he saw it.
A cave.
Hidden amongst the rocks ahead.
To anyone else, it would have looked insignificant.
To Arcos, it looked like salvation.
A weak smile formed on his cracked lips.
"I need..."
He swallowed painfully.
"Rest."
His voice barely carried beyond a whisper.
"And food."
Using every ounce of strength he had left, he forced himself onto his feet.
His legs trembled violently.
Several times he nearly collapsed again.
But he kept moving.
One step.
Then another.
Then another.
The cave entrance grew closer.
Darkness waited within.
Normally, such darkness would have frightened him.
Now it felt welcoming.
Safe.
A place where he could finally stop running.
Arcos reached the entrance and leaned against the stone wall, breathing heavily.
His body felt numb.
His mind was fading.
Yet despite everything...
Despite the torture.
Despite losing his Aetherium.
Despite being left for dead.
He was still alive.
And as long as he lived...
He would keep moving forward.
With one final exhausted breath, Arcos stepped into the cave.
The darkness swallowed him whole.
And soon, even the sound of his footsteps disappeared.
...
Far to the east, where the jagged peaks of the Icy Mountains pierced the heavens like the teeth of ancient gods, a battle of titans raged.
Two colossal giants fought amidst the frozen wilderness, each standing as tall as the mountains themselves. Their enormous fists crashed against one another with enough force to shake the world beneath them. Every blow sent avalanches cascading down distant slopes. Glaciers shattered like fragile glass. Entire mountain ridges crumbled beneath their feet.
Their thunderous roars echoed across the frozen valleys, rolling through the land like an endless storm.
Neither giant would yield.
Neither giant would kneel.
They fought for dominance.
They fought for the right to rule the frozen north.
Then the sky split apart.
A lone figure descended through the storm clouds above.
Snow and ice swirled violently around him as he fell from the heavens. Gleaming silver armour covered his body, shining even beneath the dark skies. A black cloak billowed behind him like the wings of some celestial predator.
A crooked grin stretched across his face as he watched the giants tear into each other.
"Pathetic."
The figure struck the ground.
The impact was catastrophic.
An entire mountain collapsed beneath him as though it were nothing more than a mound of dirt. Rock exploded outward in every direction. A shockwave ripped across the landscape, flattening forests and scattering clouds from the sky.
For the first time since their battle began, the giants stopped fighting.
Silence fell.
Both titans slowly turned their heads toward the newcomer.
Confusion.
Anger.
Disbelief.
Their burning eyes locked onto the lone man standing where a mountain had once stood.
The stranger simply smiled.
He was no ordinary warrior.
He was Thragmor.
A member of the Council.
A name spoken in fearful whispers throughout every kingdom, empire, and realm.
A man whose existence alone could alter the course of history.
And he had not come to watch.
He had come to decide.
His hand tightened around the handle of his weapon.
The hammer was ancient.
A celestial relic forged within the legendary Forge of Empyrean, where the Omni-Gods themselves had once dwelled. During the Great War, it had belonged to Lunariath, one of the mightiest warriors ever known.
The weapon hummed with divine power.
The air around it warped.
Even the snow seemed afraid to touch it.
Thragmor rested the hammer upon his shoulder and sighed.
"Time to put an end to this meaningless squabble."
His deep voice rolled across the mountains like distant thunder.
One of the giants narrowed his eyes.
"Who the hell are you?"
The grin on Thragmor's face widened.
Slowly, he lowered the hammer.
The ice beneath his feet began to crack.
"You two are incredibly annoying," he said casually.
His crimson eyes locked onto the giant who had spoken.
"And to answer your question..."
Power began radiating from his body.
The mountains trembled.
The clouds churned.
The very air grew heavy.
"I am the man who came here to kill both of you."
Before either giant could react, Thragmor launched himself forward.
The earth exploded beneath his feet.
His laughter echoed across the frozen landscape as he soared toward the titans, celestial hammer raised high.
And for the first time in their lives...
The giants felt fear.
Thousands of miles away, deep within the Orc Kingdom, stood the black fortress of Grom'Khal.
Its towering walls pierced the clouds.
Its battlements were stained by centuries of war.
Within the great throne hall sat the Orc King.
His throne was a monstrous creation forged from pure gold and the skulls of countless fallen enemies. Crimson flames danced within his eyes as he gazed down upon the massive courtyard below.
Hundreds of warriors stood assembled.
Each one was a High-Tier Orc.
Not ordinary soldiers.
Not ordinary monsters.
These were beings capable of reshaping reality itself.
Some conjured weapons from nothingness.
Others bent the battlefield to their will.
Many could extinguish life with a simple gesture.
But among them were the truly terrifying few.
Orcs whose imaginations knew no limits.
Orcs who could blot out the sun.
Orcs who could tear moons from the heavens.
Orcs who could cast entire armies into the endless void between dimensions.
And above them all sat their king.
Stronger.
Smarter.
More dangerous than every one of them combined.
The heavy sound of armoured footsteps echoed through the throne room.
A knight approached before dropping to one knee.
"We are ready, Your Majesty," he said proudly. "On your command, we march."
The Orc King remained silent for several moments.
His massive fingers slowly tightened around the arms of his throne.
A cruel smile spread across his face.
At last, he spoke.
"Good."
His voice sounded like mountains grinding together.
"Have them take their positions."
The knight bowed his head.
"And the attack, Your Majesty?"
The Orc King's eyes drifted toward the distant horizon.
Toward the greatest kingdom in the world.
Toward Aurliath.
His smile widened.
"We attack at sundown."
The knight's heart raced.
Even after years of service, hearing those words sent excitement coursing through his veins.
"At once, my king."
He rose and departed immediately.
The Orc King remained seated.
Watching.
Waiting.
Dreaming.
Soon.
Very soon.
The world would belong to him.
Beyond the towering walls of Aurliath, a lone farmer tended to his animals.
The morning air was cool and familiar.
Yet something felt wrong.
Terribly wrong.
As he moved through his fields, unease settled heavily within his chest.
The cows were restless.
The pigs snapped at one another.
The sheep trembled uncontrollably.
"What's gotten into all of you?" he muttered.
He approached one of the sheep and placed a hand against its wool.
His heart nearly stopped.
The animal's body was burning hot.
Its breathing was rapid.
Its muscles twitched beneath its skin.
But there were no wounds.
No signs of disease.
Nothing that should explain this behaviour.
Then a terrible memory surfaced.
A memory he had spent decades trying to forget.
His eyes widened.
His breath caught in his throat.
"No..."
His hands began shaking violently.
"No, it can't be."
Panic flooded through him.
He stumbled backward before turning and sprinting toward his carriage.
He had to reach the king.
He had to warn someone.
Before it happened again.
But when he reached his horses, his blood ran cold.
They weren't moving.
They weren't breathing.
Their eyes stared blankly ahead.
Dead.
Every single one of them.
The farmer's legs nearly gave way beneath him.
A sick feeling twisted inside his stomach.
"No..." he whispered.
His voice cracked.
"It's worse than I thought."
Fear consumed him.
Without another second to waste, he ran.
His old legs screamed in protest.
His lungs burned.
But he kept running.
Only one thought remained inside his mind.
I have to tell the king.
I have to tell him before it's too late.
Within the council chambers of the Valdyros Imperium, silence lingered between two figures.
Zyrenith stood beside a towering window, staring toward the distant horizon.
Her usually calm expression was troubled.
Haunted.
Valebane noticed immediately.
"What is it?" he asked.
For a long moment she remained silent.
Then she finally spoke.
"I've seen the future."
The words alone sent a chill down his spine.
Slowly, she turned toward him.
Her eyes were filled with something he had never seen before.
Fear.
"The Kingdom of Aurliath falls."
Valebane froze.
"What?"
"The Orc King burns it to the ground."
The room fell silent.
Neither spoke.
Neither moved.
Finally, Valebane shook his head.
"Then send someone else."
His arms crossed defensively.
"There are six council members. Why me?"
Zyrenith's eyes narrowed.
"Because it has to be you."
"That makes absolutely no sense."
She stepped closer.
"The others would go because they seek glory."
Her voice sharpened.
"You would go because it's the right thing to do."
Valebane looked away.
His jaw tightened.
"Sounds more like a suicide mission."
The words hung heavily in the air.
For the first time, Zyrenith's expression softened.
A flicker of sadness crossed her face.
"Do you really think I'd send you somewhere just to die?"
Valebane remained silent.
She took another step forward.
Her voice became quieter.
Gentler.
More vulnerable.
"They need help."
Her eyes met his.
"And I believe you're strong enough to survive."
The room seemed smaller suddenly.
Neither looked away.
Valebane wanted to argue.
Wanted to refuse.
But seeing the concern in her eyes made it impossible.
She wasn't asking as a councillor.
She was asking as a friend.
Maybe something more.
"No buts," she said softly before he could speak.
A faint smile appeared on her lips.
"Just go."
For a moment, her confident mask cracked.
"Do it for me..."
Her voice almost broke.
"...please."
Valebane stared at her.
The determination.
The worry.
The hope.
Everything she was trying so hard to hide.
A long sigh escaped him.
"Fine."
A smile instantly appeared on her face.
"But when I get back, you owe me a new sword."
A quiet laugh escaped her.
"Deal."
Warmth returned to her eyes.
With a wave of her hand, reality itself tore open.
A brilliant portal shimmered into existence before them.
Valebane glanced back one last time.
For a brief moment, neither spoke.
Then he stepped forward.
And disappeared into the light.
Zyrenith remained behind.
Watching the portal slowly close.
Her smile faded.
Worry returned to her face.
She clasped her hands together tightly.
"Please come back alive," she whispered to the empty chamber.
And for the first time since seeing the future...
Zyrenith felt afraid.