Chapter 32: End of an Age (Patreon)

[I just consolidated everything into one chapter.] 

Samson used magic to pick up large pieces of concrete and move them into a pile. Sundell was in ruins: wood floated down the cobblestone streets in waste-filled water, courtesy of the broken sewer systems. The great fountain was gone, reduced to stone rubble, and steel beams lay on the ground. It was a disaster— 

—but the people of Sundell were smiling. 

[We beat the archwizards—the arch-fucking-wizards!] That was the spoken and unspoken consensus shared by all. The fact that their people, normal humans who once lived in fear of Ironfall only a few decades ago, had conquered the continent’s greatest force with minimal casualties was beyond words. So despite the devastation, the citizens pressed on, reconstructing the city with smiles, laughter, and hope.

Throughout it all, the number of people who looked at Samson and smiled, waved, or thanked him was getting to his head. He walked out with his chest thrust out, waving to the people, reveling when they said, [It’s Lord Everwood!] as if they were glad to see him—him—instead of his brother. He liked it—and it showed.

“If you keep acting like that, they’ll know you as [the Cocky Everwood],” Dad said. 

“That’s your name,” Samson grunted. 

“Oh, people don’t care about me anymore. You’ll get all the flashy titles from now on, so make sure they’re good ones.” 

“You’re sooooooo moody,” Eris said to Dad, using water manipulation magic to separate waste from water. She was doing it in her stupid dress, reveling in its shock value. He was annoyed by her, but she was right: Dad was always fishing for compliments as if he weren’t the most loved person in the kingdom. 

“Hey, now,” Dad said, picking her up while she squirmed. “Someone has to do it. My kids are too good for the kingdom.” 

Mom giggled on the side, holding her stomach. Samson wondered if he’d have another brother that [he] could teach one day. It was kinda exciting. 

“My Lords, Ladies,” Iksa called out. Samson’s heart froze when he saw his guard limping toward them. That arch-wizard beat him up pretty bad. For a while, the healing mages didn’t think they could save him, and Samson didn’t know if he’d ever be able to thank him for saving his life. Now that he had the chance, he didn’t know what to say. 

Eris sharply turned to Iska with a venomous glare. “Are you stupid! Go lay down!” 

He smiled wryly. “I can’t, My Lady. I’m bringing news from King Everwood.” 

Eris’s harsh look melted into elation, and she wanted to get the letter in his hand, but Mom beat her to it. “What did he say?!” 

“I don’t know,” Iska replied. He handed the letter over.

Samson and the family gathered around as Scarlet used a spell to open the red and silver envelope, pulling it out. When she started reading, her eyes started trembling. 

“What does it say?” Eris demanded. “Tell us!” 

Scarlet looked up. “Let’s get to a place where others can’t hear us.” 

Everyone nodded and followed her into the castle, ignoring their wet, stinking clothing as they entered the war council room. Then, Scarlet swallowed and read aloud: 

“Dear family. I’m a week’s ride from Celestium, where I’ll be facing Garfield Redfield’s forces. So, prepare to go to Valeria and demand that King Redfield have another daughter because Rema gets to marry whoever she wants. The amount of bullshit I’ve gone through just to avoid his marriage customs is beyond unjust. Besides, Rema and I aren’t getting married, but she is family now, and I won’t let my family have baby-baking pawns. 

Pass that on to Eris.” 

Eris laughed, pumping her arms as Mom beamed, turning to Dad. 

He wasn’t smiling. “Keep reading,” he said. 

Scarlet giggled and continued. 

“Remind King Redfield that economic alliances and friendships are just as valuable as blood relations and that I’m stubborn about marriages. To be honest, he’s probably talking to his wife again. He’s expecting this.” 

Dad sighed. “At least he’s confident enough to talk about something like this.” Everyone agreed. 

“You’ll notice that I didn’t start with your victory over the archwizards. That’s because I know you’re alive and well, and I expected as much. If Dad let Samson fight, I’m sure he had a big part in it. He’s a human man now, and human men kill shit. That pretty much describes everything wrong with this world, but at least it’s convenient.” 

Samson’s eyes welled with tears as Eris snorted and Mom laughed. Dad just rubbed his eyes. 

“I’m sure the same was true about Eris, but if anyone let her fight, they’re going to answer to me. That’s my sister, God damn it. She’s not there to solve your problems.” 

Eris clasped her hands with a wide smile. Great. Make her worse. Samson looked at Dad, and he had the same expression but kinda… scared as well. 

“Speaking of which, I’m sending Rema back to Sundell to help out Dad and importing my siblings. Dad and Mom are welcome to join, but I hear that Dad’s been doing a great job, and Mom’s been holding her belly, so I think they’re likely to stay. Congratulations, you two.” 

“Thanks for letting me know you’re taking my children,” Dad pouted. 

Mom slapped him on the shoulder, crying and smiling, “Oh, stop.” 

Dad smiled. 

“That has to wait, though. In seven days, I’ll be facing an unknown enemy, and I’m not going to lie and say that it’ll be pretty, but I’ll tell you this: your fight made me realize that I’ve let myself be too relaxed lately. I’m going to rectify it to ensure you’re safe from now on.” 

Dad shivered. “That’s ominous.” 

Mom frowned. 

“What’s wrong?” Samson asked. 

“Your brother…” Dad chuckled breathlessly and turned to Samson, “You were too young to remember, but after you were born, he… made sure you were safe.” 

“And it worked,” Eris huffed, crossing her arms. “Obviously.” 

“I guess so,” Mom chuckled. 

“In the meantime, keep safe. I’m coming home to get them and have my wedding. Thea and I will be there soon. Love, King, and Queen Everwood.” 

Samson touched his face and found tears streaming down his cheeks. Somehow, he felt vindicated and also scared. His big brother was invincible. Anything he did literally turned to gold. At 26, he had taken over a continent and had territories in two others. He held the largest trading company, the strongest army, and was the most powerful mage in the world. To hear him even express concern was unnerving. 

If Ryker was saving the entire world, who was there to help him when times get rough? No one. Samson needed to be that person. So, for now, he needed to train and catch up. Not to surpass his brother but to help him. But first…. Samson turned and saw everyone crying. It was his time to take his role. 

Samson walked up to Mom and hugged her tight. “It’s okay, Mom.” 

Dad looked at him strangely and then smiled, turning to Eris and picking her up. For the first time in a while, they felt like a family instead of leaders. 

2 

Roslin had always enjoyed sex, perhaps way too much. It was an addiction of sorts to her, and she’d usually take any experience, no matter how mundane. But once Garfield finished up, pulling out from his place behind her as he fucked her like a dog on the wedding night, she felt extraordinarily unsatisfied. It was as short as it was impersonal, and when it was done, she put on her panties, the only part of her that he removed undressed. Even though she hated his guts already, she expected at least acknowledgement. 

She turned and watched him tie his trousers. “Are you gay?” 

“No,” Garfield chuckled, half-seething. “I’m not ‘gay.’ I just don’t have a whore fetish.” 

Roslain’s nose scrunched in. “You’re unbearable.” 

“Trust me, it’s mutual. Enjoy your last days of having sex—” He turned to her with icy eyes. “Because I’m not Edwar. Cheat on me, and I’ll whip you naked in public before your execution.” 

A shiver spread through her in icy waves, followed by a feeling of dread. She’d be dead by the end of the year. There was no doubt about it. Just thinking about that made her consider her situation within the context of [their] situation, and when she played everything out, she couldn’t help but chuckle maliciously. 

“Is something funny to you?” Garfield asked, narrowing his eyes. 

“Yeah,” Roslain laughed, “The part where your threat is hollow. I’ll have a civil execution long before you can touch me.” 

His eyes glinted coldly. “You think I can’t win against King Everwood?” 

“Think? Are you in denial?” 

A thin grin crept on his face, and he called out. “Re’gam. Come in here.” 

Roslin’s lip curled when she saw a teenager walk into the room. One of Garfield’s “Tran,” a disfigured human with an obsidian skin blotching through it like permanent inky bruises. He didn’t even speak; he only moved if Garfield ordered it and that freakish array on his back lit up. And when he was ordered to carry on alone, he just ate whatever was in the vicinity and fought other members of the Tran’tha. An abomination. 

“Trekalmora.” Garfield waved his hand, and a wind blade shot out of his hand, cutting straight through Re’gam’s arm, slicing it off and sending it crashing to the wall behind it, blackish blood mist splashing on the wall like black paint. 

Roslain’s body shivered in fear, and she crawled backward on the bed. “W-What the fuck are you doing?” 

Garfield grinned. “Attach your arm.” 

Re’gam turned around and grabbed his arm, jabbing it on his bleeding stub. Suddenly, the array lit up, peaking blue under his armor, and the blackish blood shot to his arm from around the room like a magnet, circling around his body. Then the freakish teen gripped his hand a few times before looking at Garfield, waiting for another order. 

Garfield looked at Roslain with a sadistic expression, reveling in her horror. “Enjoy your life of chastity.” With those words, he walked out of the door. 

Roslain looked at Re’gam with trembling eyes, terrified by the beasts. She didn’t know what aspect of her life was more terrifying: being executed by King Everwood or living with King Redfield. However, she already knew the answer, and then, standing under the uncomfortable presence of Garfield’s freakish guards, she started thinking of ways to help the former. 

3 

Any person would go insane riding hours and overs over flat planes, and I was no exception. Seeing flat planes that looked as aimless and uniform as the crashing waves over an endless ocean was unnerving, especially without knowing exactly what had happened to my family. However, when we reached the abandoned capital city of Romant and took a break, I finally got my bearings. The next day, I got a letter from my family, which Thea read with sparkling eyes. 

“Dear Ryker, how’s our daughter doing?” Thea blushed as she read. “If she’s doing half as well as your siblings, then I’m sure she’s thriving.” 

Thea’s eyes lit up, and I smiled, laying on King Romanta’s bed. My parents really understood what mattered most to me. Thea and my family: that’s all I wanted to hear about. That’s how they began. 

“As ordered, your mother and I are preparing to send Samson and Eris to Antigua. Our only condition is that you don’t allow her to spend time with Zenith. It’s bad enough that you support her temper; if she spends time with someone who breaks walls to express their [happiness], we’ll never get her back.” 

I laughed with Thea, and she lay down beside me, cuddling and lifting the letter so we could both read. 

“Samson was the hero of Sundell. You should’ve seen him. The archwizards flooded the entire city, and Samson held up all the water with magic. I’m pretty sure that even you couldn’t have done that at that age, you old man.” 

Thea giggled uncontrollably when she saw my face, which was not as emotionless as I thought it was. Admittedly, it was a bit irking to be compared to someone who had been trained with archwizard technology since he was a child, but it was also kinda amusing. “I guess I have to stop settling,” I said. “Otherwise, he’ll pass me in no time.” 

Thea rubbed her soft ears on my chest and continued. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have concerns over sending my children to you during your military conquests, but if you win your fight with Garfield, it’ll prove that being with you is the safest place in the world for them. So please… be safe, Ryker.” 

I swallowed hard, feeling my chest rising and falling. Thea wiped her eyes. 

“Your mother, brother, and sister love you. And when your other sibling’s born, they’ll love you just as much as we do. I know you’ll love them, too, so make sure that you tell them that yourself.” 

“What an asshole,” I said, taking a sharp breath. “Just say you don’t believe in me, would ya?” 

“That’s not what he means!” Thea said, rubbing her ears on me, tail flopping around anxiously. 

“I know. Let’s just read the last part.” 

“Sure…. Love, Mom, Dad, Samson, and Eris. P.S.” Thea’s eyes widened, and she started giggling. I looked at the page and chuckled. 

“P.S.,” I read, “Tell Redfield yourself. Margraves don’t address the personal problems of their kings.” I scoffed. “Yes, they do.” 

“Oh, shush,” Thea laughed, throwing herself on top of me in a straddle. “See how you like it when you have children.” 

I looked into her mischievous eyes. “Challenge accepted.” Reaching up her hands, I pulled her face to mine. 

4 

Hearing back from my family was all it took to steel my resolve as we flew over the Cyvenan skies, overlooking the Siphon River that separated us from Celestium. Much like how I built Sundell next to the Solsa River for access to water, the same was true of Celestium, a massive city built on the south side of the river, surrounded by large walls and ominous towers. It wasn’t nearly as large or grand as Syrvene with its 300-foot walls, but it still dwarfed Inspira and Verdanthall, let alone Sundell, which [was] a budding city. It was impressive. This was the city I was seizing after I killed (now “King”) Redfield— 

—and it wouldn’t be easy. 

Troops blotted out the golden ground in front of Celestium’s walls, looking like thousands of ants covering a house’s porch. It was a hideous, crawling organism festering with war fever. And when the soldiers saw us, they were sent into a frenzy, rushing around like flies dispersing into a cloud and then contracting again. Horns sounded, drums roared, magic signals exploded in the skies like fireworks. It was like a trip to Disneyland, where my life was the story, and the celebration was my arrival. It was a strange welcome indeed. 

“Send word for a summit,” I ordered a general. 

“Sir!” He flew down, issuing orders to flag bearers and for a moment, I prayed that Garfield’s army didn’t shoot them down. War was inevitable, but I wasn’t ready yet. 

While they sent word, I looked around. [They’re not here,] I thought, searching for the fabled Tran’tha. It was a group of unknown size that was known for fighting like wild animals and being extremely difficult to kill. [I’m glad I got intel, otherwise….” 

“Should we get started?” Thea asked. 

I spun around the griffin, flapping in place as I scanned my army. The swarm blotted out the sun, casting deep shadows over the post-harvested grainfields where 21,000 troops stood. To them, the situation probably felt bleak. There were at least 50,000 on the other side of the Siphon River, courtesy of all the enemy Cyrvenan forces and most of Desiderata, which seemed suspiciously under the control of Garfield despite him not having a prominent position. Blackmail. Switch triggers. Deep roots. Something was wrong. 

Despite the disparity, I had modern weaponry: machine guns, mortars, grenades, and chemical weapons. We had an arsenal that resembled World War I technology but with modern-day advancements in weaponry, but non-disposable soldiers. Each member of the army I brought to Antigua was an Immortal, a magic-wielding soldier with the soul mana of a high noble, many qualified to be sages. They had armor reinforced with arrays and bodies that could lift modern vehicles. And if that weren’t enough, we had avian mounts, Thea’s Crowls, and the Swarm. 

If it weren’t for the Tran’tha, this battle wouldn’t be a battle. Even with the Tran’tha, I still couldn’t see how it would be. 

“Are you worried?” Thea asked. 

I thought about my answer for a considerable amount of time. There was no retreat. Once I lost even a single battle, my weapons would go to the enemy, who would replicate them, eliminating my advantage in a split second. Still— 

“Of course I am,” I said. “It would be unwise to ever underestimate your opponent. Still….” I looked at my armored carriages, each housing two Browning M2 machine guns. “If I can’t win a battle with this level of advantages, I deserve to lose.” 

Thea hugged my stomach, resting her ears on my back. “Then let’s slaughter them.” 

“Say that after they refuse to surrender,” I chuckled. 

Twenty minutes later, a griffin returned with news of a summit. “They’ve agreed to speak.” 

“Good.” I followed them with a group of Immortals, leaving Thea in charge of the Crowls, Swarm, and Army. She tried to insist she went, but she understood the importance. Meeting up with enemy soldiers riding stormgliders (majestic purple birds with famously rubbery feathers that deflected water and dispersed electricity), we flew over the massive army that looked twice as large up overhead than it did from afar. There were so many soldiers that no one could even swing a sword. That was good for us. If they got beyond the river, they’d have as much space to fight as they wanted; if they didn’t, it would be like shooting fish in a barrel. Thank you, Garfield. 

The envoy led us to the back of the line, where there was a massive teal military tent that was the size of a condo. I unmounted my Griffin and walked into the tent, surrounded by a legion of undead-looking people. [These must be the Tran,] I thought, examining their blotchy skin. [They look like Rorschach.] 

Inside, my soldiers and I passed through lines of Tran on the way to Garfield, who looked significantly less anti-climactic than I thought. Part of me thought that he’d look like his brother’s twin if he ran off to the Hells Angels, got hooked on heroin, and landed in a Q Anon group, tattooing himself up with crazed face tattoos of forbidden arrays. Instead, he just looked like a redhead like his niece, but much larger and paler. His arms were covered with a robe, however, and they were doubtlessly tattooed. That said, I imagined that he had a sleeve, like someone who was an enthusiast who prioritized art and skill over in-the-moment meaning. 

“King Everwood,” Garfield said, standing up. “I’ve been waiting a long time to meet you.” 

“Same to you,” I said. “Almost a decade, in fact.” King Redfield wanted me to kill Garfield as a condition for not marrying his daughter. That was at age eighteen, and now I was twenty-six. Eight years had passed, and I was just now getting to it. How time flies. 

“Let’s begin, shall we? Please get King Everwood a chair, Esk’tha.” As if programmed, one of the Trans’ bodies stiffened. Then they moved over and got a chair for me in a civilized manner as if it wasn’t a primal animal. Garfield was probably trying to make a power play, but instead, he confirmed my suspicions. [Mind control. That’d explain it.] It’d explain everything, from having control over Drak’thul and other countries. He probably had a dark contract magic system that he sold to people. It made me shudder to think that some sadist would ask for that as a reincarnator. It made me ill. 

I sat down anyway. 

“Tell me, King Everwood,” Garfield said. “Have I ever done anything to offend you?” 

“No.” 

“Then why is it that you seek to kill me?” 

“Because you’re an enemy of an ally. Don’t try to rationalize warfare on common grounds.” 

Garfield developed a thin smile. “You’re as they say.” 

“I’m sure I am.” 

He laced his fingers. “Well then. We have a few moments before we slaughter each other. Is there any sort of concessions you’d like to make? Don’t harm my family? Don’t touch my wife? Civilities.” 

“I wouldn’t trust anyone I love to you,” I said coldly. “My family’s protection is my responsibility. Once I die, the only thing that will save them from you or anyone else is their own power and yourself. So, let’s cut the bullshit and explain some basic rules.” 

“Rules? I’m intrigued.” 

“Move your citizens elsewhere.” 

“Hoh? But they’re behind this amusingly large wall. The battlefield is quite wide. Or are you saying that your weapons and magic will blow right through it?” 

“I sieged Servene in a day. Your sarcasm will be your downfall.” 

Garfield’s smile disappeared, and his eyes sharpened like cold blades. “What are your other ‘rules?’” he asked, ignoring my request. Perhaps he could see that I actually cared what happened to the people of Celestium in my eyes; maybe it was because of my track record. He was holding them hostage. Unfortunately for him, I wouldn’t risk my life, country, and world by putting modern weapons into his hands just to protect their people—even if I was the one who instigated the war to lure out Garfield. 

“If you surrender, you must kill your Trans,” I said, turning to the people beside me. “They’re not people, so far as I could tell.” 

“Reasonable,” Garfield smiled. “And?” 

“If people cannot leave the battlefield, they cannot surrender; if people run away from the battlefield, they cannot return. That includes you. If you wish to surrender, you must kill your Trans first, and you must surrender out front, beyond the Siphon River.” 

Garfield’s eyes narrowed. “What strangely specific rules.” 

I didn’t respond. 

“Are they, by chance, related to the nightmare-ish landing I’ve heard about?” 

“Just as your weapons,” I said, turning to the Trans, “are unknown and unprepared for, so are mine. I’ve given you a courtesy. Nothing more.” 

“I see…. And there’s no changing your mind?” 

“None whatsoever.” 

“Well, then there’s nothing left to discuss. Take your place on the other end of the river, and attack if you believe you have a chance.” He motioned to the door. I left, conscience slightly eased. I only wished that Celestium’s population would leave before the fight. I’m to blame for them being there, but he’s ruthless for using them as a shield instead of protecting them like a king. War is a disturbing sport, but it’s a game I need to play. 

5 

Garfield’s slight smile disappeared completely when King Everwood left the tent. [What type of magic is that?] he thought. The reports of what happened in Servene bothered him because no one seemed to understand what happened. All they remembered was a thick fog coming over the ocean, and then people started screaming and burning and dying when it reached them. It, indeed, reached the inner city as well, and the Servenans in the city wished that they heeded King Everwood’s warning. [Can they use it because there’s water around here? Did I choose the wrong location?] 

Rivers are natural barriers preventing soldiers from crossing. With the bridges destroyed, King Everwood’s soldiers had to cross a ten-foot deep, moving body of water—for three hundred feet—in armor. That was a natural problem that required boats and prevented a flooding of soldiers. With the river in place, it limited battle significantly. 

There were four major problems. On King Everwood’s side, there was The Swarm, the King Killer, and that magic. The Swarm was self-explanatory: the river did nothing to stop their attack, and they were notoriously difficult to kill. However, with only the swarm attacking and no other distractions, they could kill them. The next was that magic. If it used fog from water, then it would be poisonous. And, unlike arrows and magic, which rarely could reach 300 feet, that weapon likely could. There was very little information about it other than a report claiming that there was no one within Emperor Kenani’s range of perception who might’ve shot it. That meant it had an unbelievable range. 

For his side, there were the limitations of his prized weapon: the Tran’tha. They were the perfect counter to King Everwood in every way. They were nearly immortal to physical attacks and had intense resistance to any attack that didn’t destroy their magical core. They were essentially puppets that could rebuild themselves, and pain wouldn’t stop their primal instincts, limiting the effect of a fog that wouldn’t kill them. The swarm could shatter their bones, but unless the attack was close, their screech couldn’t destroy their core. And as for the King Killer, it was a single projectile shooting at an invisible core. However— 

The Tran’tha were close-range fighters, meaning that the enemy had to cross the river for them to fight, and if the fog allowed The Swarm to come in unhindered, then there would be problems. 

Suddenly, Garfield got a bad premonition and understood the profound potential consequences of not having enough information. Still, the King Killer was a gun against 50,000 soldiers separated by a massive river. The Swarm was few in number, and there were barriers. [The first day of battle will give me what I need to strategize,] he thought. 

At the time, that seemed rational. For thousands of years, sieges were counted in weeks or months, so a single day showed great haste. He would’ve never believed that he had less than a day to kill King Everwood. And that misunderstanding would prove costly. 

6 

Leaving a war summit tent is the most surreal experience you can imagine. Before and during that summit, you must be a civilized king, abide by common etiquette, and not do anything that could jeopardize the mission. Once you leave, everything changes. Suddenly, you can seduce the leader’s spouse, kill their dog, piss on their lawn, and say whatever the hell you want. After all, no matter how grave the insult is, it doesn’t matter. In a number of hours, you’re going to kill each other, and there’s no greater insult than that. 

For that reason, I returned to my camp, where a massive amplification circle awaited me. I jumped off my griffin, stood in the center, activated it, and said: 

“Citizens of Celestium. This is King Everwood. As your freshly anointed king has blatantly disregarded, I have magic of mass destruction, and you [will] get caught in the crossfire. Immediately abandon your homes and make your way to the south gates of Celestium. Your rulers will immediately disregard you and tell you to go home. However, the moment that I use my magic, they will scream and flee as well, giving you safe passage to leave. Do not disregard this warning, lest your wives and children die.” 

Garfield’s forces bucked into a frenzy, bloodlust oozing from their battle cries. However, their entire strategy hinged on not crossing the Siphon. If they did, they would certainly die. So, they just had to take it in the ass and deal with their panic. Come tomorrow, win or lose, no citizen in Celestium would ever trust King Redfield again. In war, your aim is to destroy your enemy—and this was Total War. 

Not exactly, but my weapons and tactics looked like something right out of a World War I novel. Earth mages cut crevasses in the earth to create ditches, then created spires that infantry members wrapped tightly with razor wire. Fortification magic specialists fortified the ditches to keep them solid while gunners set up Browning M2 machine guns and mortars, which now carried significant payloads. Infantry and mages ran drills, snipers posted on earth magic created hills and outposts, and scouts watched the enemy, who had already “prepared” long ago and was waiting for the battle tomorrow morning. If they knew what would hit them, they would’ve been preparing, too. 

I couldn’t help but think how excessive it was. A decade ago, Garfield’s forces and position would strike fear into someone’s heart. Now, their survival would only be determined by the flexibility and power of closed-range fighters. 

Yet there was a part of me that hoped that the Tran’tha were extraordinary creatures that would test the bounds of my army and force Lena and Marvis into the battle, leading to a biblical battle. We’d just have to wait and see. 

7 

“Absolutely not,” Lena said. “I won’t send my soldiers off to their deaths.” 

Marvis snorted. 

We were sitting in a large tent surrounded by sound suppression circles, having a war council meeting. I presented my strategy—they declined. As expected. 

“I’m not asking your soldiers to rush to their deaths,” I said. “They are reinforcements. Their only job is to protect my people from the rear—if necessary.” 

“I’ve seen many of your type over the years,” Marvis said. “They rush for glory, thinking only of their strengths, forgetting their weaknesses. You’re strong, Everwood. It’s obnoxious. But this? Fighting in the darkness? It’s like you seek to vindicate your blindness.” 

“Listen,” I said, turning between them. “Our greatest advantage is they do not understand the nature of my weaponry and cannot prepare for it. In the daylight, they will find out. In the nighttime, they will be in disarray.“ 

“Your weapons require eyesight,” Lena said, narrowing her eyes. “Don’t they?” 

I looked her straight in the eyes: “Absolutely not.” 

8 

It was sunset when I left the tent, gentle colors reflecting off soldiers’ armor like a crystal chandelier. My troops were iron-willed, laughing and joking over roasted meat, laughing as they drank water instead of wine. Lena and Marvis’s soldiers were not faring as well, let alone the Servenan soldiers who volunteered to serve their new king. It was a tense environment, and now it was time to turn the tables. 

I called all the allied soldiers into one location and rode a griffin above them, waiting for absolute silence save for the muted clap of wings. I took my time, looking over each of their faces, committing them to memory, and then spoke: 

“I’m not great at war morale speeches,” I said. “Others might say, [Tomorrow, you will make history!] or that death is but a new beginning for those who are immortalized. They’re pretty good at it, too.” 

A stern silence befell the audience, gripped by an invisible blanket of anxiety. 

“But that’s because I’ve never lost,” I said. “That’s because I’ve braved a toxic wasteland at age ten, fought a war at 11, unified the Novenan continent by eighteen, and now I stand before you, having conquered Servene with minimal casualties. I don’t lose—and neither will you.” 

Electricity pulsed through the soldiers like static discharge, and the cheering began, slow and then faster, like violins gathering momentum. 

“Is it because I’m strong as a mage? No. I’ve rarely fought. Is it because I’m a legendary strategist? Not likely. I win because I’ve created the strongest, most lethal, most terrifying technology in Solstice, and that technology is in your hands!” 

The Immortals burst into wild cheering, as they were the people with that technology. The others smiled wryly, losing steam. 

“Not all of you have this technology, but [we], collectively, do. Not [my] soldiers, my empire, and my people, but [our] people, our alliance, our army, all of us today. Right now, in this field, we are [one] in our conquest to stop Garfield, his shadow slaves, and tyrannical horde. And [we] have the technology to destroy them!” 

The Immortals gave a [harooh!], and energy flooded back into the hearts of the allied soldiers, making them shift and cry out, drawn within the passionate fervor of the crowd. 

“Tomorrow will not be a “legendary” battle. That implies that it will be great, vicious, and hard-fought. It will not be. We will struggle, and many will die, but it will not be legendary,” I said, pausing for effect. “But…. But.” The soldiers fell still, pulsing as they waited with bated breaths. “I’ll tell you what it will be. Historical. Because tomorrow will mark the end of an age, AND YOU!” I yelled, picking up steam and vigor. “YOU will be the people that usher in the new one!” 

Thunderous battle cries pierced the night, turning the molten passion of the enemy’s morale to solid glass. Only the freakish abominations known as the Tran’tha were unfazed, and they would know primal fear soon enough. 

9 

I watched the enemy soldiers, trying to build themselves up over fires and drink, talking about their numbers and speaking of the Tran’tha as if they were gods. They could hear them, controlling the minds of insects with the ability to hear, buzzing around the area, watching until they were good and drunk. It was nightfall, moon high in the sky as they tried to guess what would happen tomorrow, coping with their imaginations with the mellow feel of intoxication. It was almost time to attack. 

Lena and Marvis’s troops didn’t know we were attacking. They would, once it began, but not beforehand. My troops knew we were fighting at night before we left Servene, and the illusion that there would be a battle [tomorrow] was strong, spreading, corrupting, and festering in the expectations of the enemy soldiers. But it wasn’t true. Soldiers prepared gas canisters while soldiers drinking water from flasks in the trenches prepared to man their posts. It was time. 

The battle started when the majority of enemy soldiers had drifted away, and our soldiers were fully relaxed. It was around 1 am, but the Immortals weren’t tired. They were busy scurrying through the ditches, moving between lines, getting close to the “outbreak site” where the hell began. Light mages moved in rows as barrier mages prepared solid shields where no attacks or air could pass through. On each of their backs: a backpack containing a gas mask. All the Immortals had them, and it was time for the Black Masquerade. 

“They’re in position,” Thea whispered from behind me. We were riding a crowl over the skies, watching high overhead. 

“Good. Give the signal.” 

10 

Andrean Roe was taking sips of brandy in a ditch, speaking to a group of soldiers about the weapons, when the signal came in. At least, that’s what he would remember after the fact. At the time, he was eying one of King Everwood’s guns curiously, wondering if it was the weapon that saved his life in the Threnosia Forest when he fought bitterly against Queen Boudica’s forces. King Reckog’s major was one of the few who even had access to the ditches, something of a diplomat, watching what happened on the front lines despite not being part of it, able to carry orders back to his king if necessary. 

There were a few people like him in the trench, and they were talking, drifting off to sleep when a small bird flew into the camp, making a soldier yelp in surprise. Suddenly, he was awake, heart pounding, only to find that it was a small animal. [Stupid bats,] he thought, looking around. He was about to close his eyes again when he heard shifting. Turning his head, he saw something that chilled him to the bone. 

The Immortals stood up silently, putting on terrifying masks that made them look like walking creatures rather than men. Then they silently moved through the trenches, avoiding him and Queen Boudica’s liaisons on their way out. 

[They’re attacking?] Andrean thought. [Now?] He looked up. The moon was high overhead, glimmering between clouds. There were no luges in the skies, no griffins flying either. It was absolutely silent, and the trenches were a few hundred yards from the Siphon River, far from where a gun could reach (or so he thought). Where were they going? Standing up, he crawled over a trench and moved to one of the outposts. 

“I’m with Marvis’s recon division,” Andrean said to a guard at one of the spires. It was just a cylinder of dirt protruding from the ground, but there were ladders leading to the top, where people using telescopes were watching the enemy forces. “I’m here to observe.” He showed an insignia. 

King Everwood’s soldier eyed him incredulously, then looked back. The other allied soldiers were away from the area. Only a few were allowed to observe, and this was observing. 

“Stay silent, got it?” the soldier said. “You’re here to observe. Fuck it up, and we’ll kill you. Got it?” 

Andrean shivered. “Got it.” 

He climbed the ladder and joined the scouts, overlooking the area. King Everwood’s soldiers looked like black ants in a tunnel, weaving in and out of the trenches, moving to a large crater at the center as if it were a maze.

That’s when the terror began. It was like something out of a folk horror story but far worse and very real. The crater suddenly filled with smoke as if it were a cauldron, building up until it was a massive milky cloud spilling over the sides like a terrifying fog. Then, after that moment of surrealist horror, the enemy soldiers spotted that notorious fog and started screaming, letting out trumpets and drums, and their mounts and animals started bucking. The response was immediate, but it was too late. Far too late. King Everwood’s soldiers were at the front, 100 yards from the Siphon River, prepared to fight, and that’s when they attacked. 

Suddenly, a group of mages shot wind magic from the cauldron, sending the fog shooting over the river as soldiers spilled over the top of the trenches. Barriers shot up next, creating solid walls of mana that prevented the fog from moving backward, collecting it as if it were in a glass jar. 

[They’re cutting themselves off?] Andrean thought, eyes wide. There were a few thousand troops running headfirst into the thick yellow fog, separated by a solid wall of mana without cover. [What are they—] 

Anyone who wasn’t awake immediately awoke, mind racing, heart thumping in their chest the next moment. As soon as that thin fog reached the river, enemy soldiers started shrieking, wailing like beasts in a burning forest. They stopped shouting orders. They stopped thinking. All they did was cry out in agony as if there were monsters in that mist and they were swallowing people whole. 

“What the fuck is that?” Andrean asked, half-shouting toward an Immortal. There was no point in hiding it—it was highly visible, and people were wailing in the darkness. 

“I don’t know,” the Immortal said grimly. “That’s the damn truth.” 

Suddenly, a concussion of explosions followed in the mist, muzzles flashing in the milky haze. They were fast, like rattling beating hooves, but tens of thousands a second, and the screams [changed]. It was hard to say because all he could hear was screaming, but these screams brought death with them. 

11 

Garfield mounted a halkma, a winged beast similar to a bat but with silver wings, flying overhead to escape the fog. He imagined it would be nightmarish and deadly, but he had absolutely no clue what he was up against. With a single rush of wind, ten thousand of his soldiers instantly lost the will to fight, screaming on the ground in agony. Seeing the terrifying damage, he realized that he knew about the magic but didn’t account for it. Yet how could he? What type of demonic magic could be so devastating? 

Then came the weapons. Normal infantry ran through the mist undeterred, unhindered by arrows or magic as they approached, as all the people that would stop them were screaming on the ground, clasping their hands over their faces, crying out in pain. Then, once they hit the edge of the water, they pulled out their guns and started firing. Hundreds of his soldiers died instantly, put out of their misery. 

As his soldiers got massacred, King Everwood’s troops carried boats from the trenches, brazenly getting into the water, unconcerned with the people on the other side. Usually, archers would shoot them down; now, none of his soldiers could see or hear them, let alone fight back.

“I need to stop them!” Garfield yelled, watching the boats crossing the river. “Go! Kill them!” His forearm lit up under his cloak, and there was an eerie chain reaction as the Tran’tha came to life and started running toward the water. That was a mistake. A horrifying mistake. 

12 

A group of King Redfield’s mages stood in the center of the battlefield, barriers up, surrounded by mist like isolated bubbles. They couldn’t move, standing frozen, listening to shrieking soldiers, watching them grip their faces as their skin boiled. Suddenly, they heard the roar from the Tran’tha moving toward the river, hoping King Redfield’s trump card would save them— 

—they were wrong. 

The Tran’tha jumped into the fray, eyes boiling, skin blistered, screaming in pain. They were moving to the water, but they were senseless, primal beasts, slashing at the enemy—not knowing who the enemy was. One crashed right into a mage’s barrier, cutting through it with a sword strike. And when the mage hit it with an attack in a desperate plea to get it to leave, the humanoid shrieked and jumped onto him, grabbing his head with two hands and ripping it off his shoulders. Suddenly, the other Trans were doing the same, cutting a bloody path to the river, stomping over people, trying to find the enemy they could neither see nor smell. It was a horrifying massacre. 

13 

The Tran’tha were terrifying creatures, humans that moved through the mist, fighting and regenerating at staggering speed. I watched them, studying them, fascinated as my soldiers docked onto the enemy’s side and shot them with machine guns, only for them to keep getting up. Still— 

—with mustard gas, there’s nothing to heal from. It was like fire. No matter how much a person healed, it would just keep burning them. Blinded and boiling, they lashed out like primal beasts, following Redfield’s orders to the loss of his own troops. And when they were lit on fire by high-level spells, they died rather easily—so that’s how we handled them. Since all the Immortals knew fire spells, it turned into a classic battle. Tran’tha killed Immortals; Immortals killed Tran’tha. It was the only side of the battle that seemed remotely fair.

I frowned, slightly disappointed. “It’s time to start the panic.”

Thea nodded. Closing her eyes, she gave the orders to the Luges, which took to the sky, shooting above Celestium at a height they could neither attack nor get hit. Then, circling around the city, they screeched toward the heavens, creating a deafening roar that shattered the one sense the soldiers had left. Those suffering from the mustard gas instantly gave up; the 3/5ths of the army that wasn’t affected by the gas but were psychologically damaged from the screaming and mass killings panicked and ran east or west if they were near Celestium’s great walls—directly south if they weren’t. 

14 

Celestium’s south gate broke immediately. There was a swarm of citizens screaming and pushing to leave the capital all day. Once the fog came and the screaming began, all the citizens were pushing to leave. Eventually, the guards were overrun, and when they saw their fellow soldiers running for their lives, they openly fled. Whatever was happening, it wasn’t [war], and they didn’t want to stick around for it. 

15 

“You’re doing excellent,” I said to Thea, surveying the carnage below. Machine guns were mowing down soldiers, mustard gas had incapacitated over ten thousand, mortars were crashing down, Luges were flying overhead, and the crowls had not even come out to play. Mages were using fire spells once belonging only to sages, Immortals were slashing through Tran’tha at close range with swords, and snipers were handling those far away. This was the result of almost a decade of economic development, weapons manufacturing, chemistry, mass production systems, and mass transportation to bring together this modern technology. Now it was here, just as nightmarish as it once was, painting a vivid story about the reasons that the world put limits on warfare. And now, looking at all of it, experiencing it, being at the forefront of this new and terrifying point in history, I could only sum it up in two words: 

[As expected].

No matter how much I wanted a legendary battle, this, right here, the one-sided massacre unfolding, was the logical thing that would happen if you brought .50 caliber machine guns and mustard gas to a sword fight. It was a reality, much in the same way stamping swords takes away the joy of hammering them. 

Strangely, part of me would’ve thrown aside all my advantages to feel like Samson, the victor of a great battle and victory. Yet I couldn’t. I wasn’t here to enjoy war; I was here to protect the world and my life with it. Still, I prayed that King Elio, Emperor Kenai, or my ultimate enemy, Genghis Khan, would give me that feeling again. If only for one last time.

Suddenly, the Tran’tha stopped fighting and turned around, running away, leaving the other soldiers behind. I turned and saw Garfield flying away at full speed, looking to consolidate what little he had left. That only reinforced my thoughts.

[As expected.]

I frowned and pulled out my Pandora 0 20mm Cannon, the same one I left in my little brother’s hands when I went away and aimed it at the man. I didn’t come here to conquer Celestium. I didn’t come here to play king— 

—I came here to kill Garfield so I could solidify my alliance with King Redfield, free his daughter from the shackles of forced marriage, and marry the person I loved. So, I put him in my crosshairs and put my finger on the trigger. 

16 

Garfield’s mind filled with rage and indignation as he flew away, watching the chaos below. His Tran’tha were getting shredded or burning, his army was running around the walls, and the people of Celestium were flooding through the south gates, running as fast as their children’s feet would take them. “It was all for nothing!” he yelled. “Nothing!” 

The Swarm screeched overhead, simply reminding his army that the worst had yet to come. With the ballistae shooters screaming on the walls, they were free to roam around, eating his soldiers’ flying mounts without resistence. Then, if only to solidify King Everwood’s overwhelming power, massive black birds shot from the heavens, diving and swooping and screeching around him.

“Don’t fuck with me!” Garfield yelled. He was humiliated. He wasn’t the strongest. Not yet. But he ruled Desiderata and was building an immortal army to rival King Elio’s—and was almost there! It was hard to work in the open as a Novenan, but as a [king], he would have legitimacy, allowing him to build a true Tran’tha army, a hundred thousand strong, capable of seizing the entire world. Yet King Everwood ruined everything right when everything was in his hands, and now King Everwood was circling him with colossal birds, just reminding him that he could kill him at any time. “What are you waiting for?!” he roared. “Just kill—“ 

Suddenly, he felt an overbearing presence from behind, and he dragged the reins, weaving out of the way of the mana behind him. But it curved, following him, and then suddenly it slammed into his back…. 

And he was falling…. 

Under the heavy air pressure and howling wind, he couldn’t feel anything but weightlessness and numbing cold, but looking up, he could see his blood flying above him as he fell, flitting in the breeze. It was coming from his chest, and he suddenly realized he couldn’t breathe. He was dying….

Just like that….

Garfield was a king now. King Redfield. The true King Redfield. He fucked a whore after a public ceremony to prove it. He deserved an execution, a public hearing where he could immortalize his words in historical tombs and be remembered through the ages. Yet he wasn’t. There was just a heavy thud in his chest, the sound of the wind, the sight of flying blood, and then the colors shifted rapidly around him, switching from darkness to gray stone, to red shingles, to brown wood—and then he heard a sickening crack, and darkness clouded his eyes. 

17 

“I wonder if this is how Oppenheimer felt after Hiroshima,” I thought aloud, slinging the cannon over my shoulder and then looking all around me, watching the brutal realities of modern technology. Tonight was indeed the end of an age and the introduction of a beautiful yet equally tragic chapter of the world. And suddenly, I felt as though Earth and Solstice had finally collided, not as parent and child, but as true equals. There was great beauty in the world I came from, yet it was also dark and cold and lonely, prosperous yet mentally depleted, filled with every wonder and horror imaginable. And as I stared at Garfield’s body, realizing that I would soon have access to oil to build cars, trucks, tanks, jets, drones, and atom bombs, I realized that it wouldn’t be long before my worlds were reflections. Now the question was: what type of world did I wish Earth would’ve been? Would I change it or let it stay the same? Those were the questions that I would have to face once the endless screaming stopped and the rebuilding began.