The morning sun hung low, casting long, trembling shadows across the golden shores of EmberWind. 

Aina clung tightly to her father, her small hands gripping his worn tunic. 

Haerak, ever calm despite the tempest of uncertainty around them, held her close. 

The serene waters at their feet belied the chaos they all knew was coming.

Ruby stood nearby, her lips moving in a quiet, anxious murmur, her eyes darting toward the forest's edge where her comrades—family—were preparing to return. 

She couldn't shake the dread in her chest. 

Jiighual was retired. 

Kazaks had stepped away from the fight. 

And Nert—Nert was gone. 

They were fractured. 

Vulnerable.

Lyra noticed the unease in Ruby's trembling frame. 

With her usual boisterous warmth, she sidled up to her, draping an arm around her shoulder. 

"Come on, Ruby. You've got to stop fretting like that. Those guys? They're tougher than nails. Zach will bring them back in one piece. He always does."

Ruby smiled faintly, but it was thin, the weight of her thoughts pulling it down.

Suddenly, a stirring ripple ran through the crowd. 

Farmers, hunters, and fishermen—men of the village armed with nothing but the tools of their daily lives—stepped forward. 

Their shovels, axes, and harpoons glinted dully in the sunlight. 

Their faces were stern, lines of worry marking some, but beneath the surface was a grim determination.

One of the farmers, a middle-aged man with weathered skin and calloused hands, stepped ahead of the group. 

His voice was low but strong enough to reach everyone. 

"The Renaissance Band... You've done so much for us. Bringing back our chief safely and then dealing with Evelori and Selene's dark magic. You've stood in front of death to keep this village safe. Today, we're not hiding behind you anymore."

A murmur of agreement swept through the gathered men.

Another villager, this one a young hunter, added.

"We're not warriors. But we're fathers. Sons. Brothers. This is our home. If it comes down to it, we'll fight and die for it."

Micah, the younger of the sibling duo, threw a triumphant fist into the air. 

She cheered, practically bouncing in place.

"That's the spirit!" 

Killian, her older brother, grinned wide and clapped a nearby fisherman on the back. 

"Finally, some guts in this place! You guys make me proud."

Lyra whooped, her bow already resting in her hand as she twirled an arrow between her fingers. 

"Now this feels like a party!"

Seraphina, jittery as ever, clutched her satchel of potions and nervously laughed along, though her eyes betrayed her unease. 

"I, uh... I don't know if it's a party, Lyra, but it's something, alright."

Despite the laughter and celebration, there were three figures who stood still, their hearts heavier than the morning air. 

Ruby, Aina, and Haerak.

Ruby's smile faded completely as she watched the villagers rally together. 

The courage in their eyes filled her with dread. 

These were men who didn't understand the reality of war. 

She wanted to scream at them, to shake them and tell them to run while they still could. But no words came.

Aina, far too young to bear such a sight, clutched her father's hand tightly. 

Her voice was barely a whisper. 

"Papa... Are we going to be okay?"

Haerak crouched down to her level, his hand brushing her hair back as he smiled gently, though his heart was breaking. 

His wife, Tina, was already gone. 

He couldn't lose Aina too. 

He whispered, though the words tasted bitter in his mouth.

"We'll be okay, little one. My little warrior."

The villagers' celebrations were cut short as Haerak stood, catching sight of the hunting horn hanging from Lyra's belt. 

He grabbed it without a word, lifting it to his lips. 

The deep, mournful sound echoed across the beach, silencing every voice.

All eyes turned to him as he lowered the horn. 

The air felt heavier, the weight of unspoken truths settling over them all.

Haerak's voice carried over the waves, clear and commanding. 

"Enough." 

The single word silenced the crowd. 

The waves lapped gently at the shore behind him, the only sound in the heavy silence.

"This is not a moment for celebration." 

Haerak's tone was low, but every syllable carried the weight of a lifetime's worth of loss and wisdom. 

He paused, letting his words settle like stones in their chests. 

"War is not glory. It is not the tales sung by bards in warm halls, nor the heroics written in books for the comfort of those who've never held a weapon. It is blood, staining the earth. It is fire, devouring everything you love. It is the sound of screams that haunt you long after the fighting stops. And it is the silence of those who will never speak again."

The villagers shifted uneasily, their celebratory spirits now burdened with the gravity of his words.

"I've seen it," Haerak continued, his voice heavy with emotion. 

"War is not a game. It is not an opportunity to prove your courage. It is a merciless thief that takes without asking and leaves behind only grief."

He turned to face the fishermen, his eyes locking with one of the older men who clutched a harpoon. 

"You, with your harpoon—have you ever driven it into flesh, not to catch a fish, but to take a life? Have you ever felt the way a body trembles in those final moments? It is not something you forget. It stays with you, follows you like a shadow, and it never lets you go."

The fisherman averted his gaze, his hands tightening around his weapon.

Haerak moved on, addressing the hunters. 

"And you—do you think hunting a pig is the same as standing before a man who wants to kill you? Do you think the forest, which offers you its quiet shelter, will not be torn apart when this war reaches us? Blood doesn't care where it spills, and the trees will remember it long after we are gone."

He paused, his voice softening, though the intensity in his gaze did not waver. 

"And for those of you who stand here thinking, 'I will fight because I must protect my family'—I respect your bravery. Truly, I do. But let me ask you this: What will your children do when their protector is gone? Who will hold their hand when you are buried beneath this soil you claim to defend? Who will tell them that their father loved them, that he gave his life because he thought he could make a difference?"

The crowd was silent now, the weight of his words sinking into their hearts. 

Even Micah and Killian, so full of youthful enthusiasm moments ago, had grown somber.

"I say this not because I doubt your courage," Haerak continued, his voice breaking slightly. 

"But because I understand it. I've stood where you stand. I've wanted to fight because it felt like the only way to protect what I loved. But war... war doesn't just take the brave. It takes the innocent. It takes the ones who never chose to fight. And it leaves behind a hollow victory, if it leaves anything at all."

He knelt down, placing a hand gently on Aina's shoulder. 

She looked up at him, her wide eyes filled with confusion and fear. 

"I stand here now as a father. Not just a chieftain, but a father who has already lost too much. My wife is gone. My daughter is all I have left. And I will not—I cannot—risk her life or the lives of any other child in this village because we are too proud to admit we cannot win this fight."

Haerak stood again, his voice rising with renewed determination. 

"The Renaissance Band—they are warriors. They have chosen this path, knowing full well the cost. They've carried this burden for years, fighting battles so that people like us could live in peace. This war is not ours to fight. It is theirs. If we step into it, we risk dragging this village into the darkness with them. And for what? To prove that we are brave? To prove that we are willing to die?"

He shook his head, his expression resolute. 

"No. Our duty is to protect what we have, not to gamble it away. You are fathers. Sons. Brothers. Your families need you alive. They need you to stay, to rebuild if the worst comes to pass. That is how you protect this village—not with your blood, but with your lives."

The villagers looked at one another, their initial eagerness now tempered by uncertainty.

"I know it is hard to stand by while others fight," Haerak said, his tone softening. 

"I know it feels like cowardice. But it is not. It is wisdom. It is love. And sometimes, love means letting go of the idea that we can fix everything with our own hands."

He turned to face the ocean, his eyes fixed on the horizon where dark shapes—enemy ship. 

"There is a storm coming. And we cannot stop it. But we can survive it. For our children. For our future. That is the choice I ask you to make today."

The crowd stood in silence, their faces etched with the weight of his words. 

Slowly, one by one, the men lowered their tools, their expressions filled with reluctant understanding. 

Even Micah and Killian looked subdued, their earlier excitement replaced by thoughtful introspection.

Haerak took a deep breath, his shoulders heavy with the responsibility he bore. 

"Stay with your families. Guard them. Love them. That is the greatest strength you can show."

The crowd hesitated, unsure, until Micah and Killian stepped forward.

Micah spoke first, her usual energy tempered by a newfound seriousness. 

"We're not just villagers, Haerak. We've fought before. We know what it takes."

Killian nodded. 

"They need us. We might not be part of the Renaissance Band, but we're not amateurs either. Let us stand with them."

Lyra and Seraphina joined them, nodding in agreement.

For a moment, Haerak looked like he would refuse. 

But then his shoulders slumped, and he sighed. 

"Very well. But only because you're more capable than the others. Do not make me regret this."

Before anyone could say more, the sound of hurried footsteps drew their attention. 

From the village's edge, seven figures emerged: Zach, Gargeal, Leeani, Yzavynne, Qarek, Kazaks, and Andhur. 

Each carried their weapon of choice, the weight of the moment reflected in their eyes.

The Renaissance Band had arrived.

The villagers parted to let them through, their faces filled with a mix of awe and fear. 

Ruby's breath hitched as her eyes met Zach's. 

His expression was grim, but there was a fire in his gaze that hadn't been there before.

Haerak stepped forward, his hand resting protectively on Aina's shoulder. 

He said simply, his voice heavy with unspoken meaning.

"You're here."

Zach nodded. 

"We don't have much time."

Andhur tightened his grip on his glaive, his usual jovial expression replaced with a steely resolve. 

"Guess this is it, huh?"

Zach glanced back at his team, his voice steady despite the turmoil in his heart. 

"This isn't the end. Not yet."

But deep down—

They all knew the truth.

Zach stood tall, his face set in hard lines, as the weight of the situation pressed on his shoulders. 

His gaze swept over the group, landing on Kazaks and Jiighual. 

"You two," he said, his voice resolute but edged with a hint of exhaustion. 

"Protect the village with everything you've got. Do not let them through."

Kazaks nodded, his massive right arm tightening around the war hammer as if it were the only thing that kept him tethered to the world. 

Jiighual's sword glinted in the early morning light, his expression unreadable, but the weight of their role was clear in his eyes. 

They were no longer the young men they once were, filled with reckless energy. 

They had lived through too much—

Seen too much—

And now the time had come to protect the people they loved—

No matter the cost.

Zach turned to face Haerak, Ruby, and Aina, his expression softening just for a moment. 

"Go. All of you. We'll handle this." 

But the response came immediately.

Micah said, her voice determined, though it trembled with anxiety. 

"No, Zach."

She stepped forward, Killian at her side, both siblings ready to defy their captain's command. 

"We're coming with you. We're not going to sit this one out."

Lyra stood beside them, her face set in grim resolve. 

"Zach, we can't just let you go into this alone. We may not be warriors, but we have experience. We've fought by your side before. We can do this."

Seraphina, though visibly anxious, nodded. 

"We won't be a burden, Zach. We're with you. You're not alone."

Zach's expression faltered, a fleeting moment of doubt in his eyes. 

He opened his mouth to protest, but Haerak stepped forward, his voice steady but filled with a wisdom that came from years of leadership. 

"Zach," he said, his eyes meeting his eyes.

"They've convinced me. Let them fight alongside you. They might not be warriors by trade, but their specialty, their skills, and their experience will help. We need all the hands we can get."

Zach looked at Haerak, his jaw tightening, frustration and concern flickering in his gaze. 

"Hmm," he muttered, turning back to the group of villagers, then to Micah, Killian, Lyra, and Seraphina. 

His eyes softened slightly, but his voice remained firm. 

"But don't let us down, okay?"

The words hung between them, a challenge and a plea all at once. 

The group nodded in unison, their determination clear. 

They were not backing down. 

They were in this together.

Zach then turned to Kazaks and Jiighual, his voice sharp as he gave his orders. 

"You two—our retired warriors—go to the village's edge. Protect them. We'll be fine here." 

He hesitated, his gaze shifting briefly to Ruby, who was standing nearby, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. 

He added softly, his eyes meeting hers for a moment, filled with a sadness that could not be masked.

"Get Ruby with you two," 

Kazaks gave a solemn nod, his usually jovial demeanor absent as he looked at Ruby. 

"Come on, Ruby," he said, his voice gruff but filled with care. 

"We'll make sure you're safe."

Ruby hesitated, her heart pounding in her chest as she met Zach's eyes. 

She could see the pain and fear in his gaze, but she knew that this was the right thing to do. 

With a final glance at him, she turned and walked over to Kazaks and Jiighual, her heart heavy with the knowledge that this could very well be their final goodbye.

Aina, who had been standing silently by her father's side, her wide eyes filled with confusion and fear, suddenly rushed toward her Aunties and Uncle. 

Without thinking, she threw her arms around Seraphina, then Lyra, then Micah and Killian, holding them tightly as if she were trying to protect them from something she couldn't name. 

Her small form trembled with emotion as she clung to them, the weight of the situation settling over her like a dark cloud.

"I don't want you to go," Aina whispered, her voice muffled by the fabric of Seraphina's tunic. 

"Please, don't go."

Seraphina knelt down to meet her gaze, her own eyes shining with unshed tears. 

"Aina, we'll be back," she promised, her voice thick with emotion. 

"We won't let anything happen to you."

Lyra wrapped her arms around Aina as well, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. 

"We'll make sure you're safe, little one. You'll see."

Aina pulled away from them, her heart heavy with a mixture of hope and dread. 

She looked up at Haerak, her father, and then at Ruby. 

She didn't want to say goodbye. 

Not now. 

Not when everything felt so uncertain.

Haerak caught her gaze, his eyes filled with love and pain, and then he wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close. 

"We'll take care of you," he said, his voice thick. 

"Go with them, and stay safe."

Ruby, with a final glance at Zach, who was already turning to face the battle ahead, took a deep breath and walked toward Kazaks and Jiighual. 

The tears in her eyes were held back by sheer willpower. 

She couldn't break down now. 

Not when everything depended on their survival.

She looked back at Zach, her heart aching, and then Kazaks and Jiighual began to lead her away.

The moment she stepped away from Zach, the reality of it hit her—this could be the last time they saw each other. 

They had no way of knowing what would happen when the battle began. 

But before she could take another step, Zach was there, standing in front of her.

His hand reached for her, and she met him halfway. 

The world seemed to slow as he cupped her face in his hands, his eyes searching hers as if he was trying to memorize every detail.

"I love you," he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. 

"And no matter what happens, know that you were everything to me. Always."

Ruby's breath caught in her throat. She had never heard him sound like this before. 

She pressed her forehead to his, her heart breaking. 

"I love you too, Zach," she whispered, her voice trembling. 

"Don't you dare die on me."

Their lips met in a kiss—a kiss filled with everything they had ever shared, every memory, every hope for the future. 

It was soft, slow, as if they both knew it could be their final moment together. 

When they pulled away, tears glistened in Ruby's eyes, but she forced a smile.

She promised, her voice steadier than she felt.

"I'll be waiting for you."

Zach nodded, his hand lingering on her cheek for a moment longer. 

"Stay safe, Ruby."

With one final glance exchanged between the Renaissance Band, they set off, heading toward their stations, the village readying itself for the storm that was about to hit.

And as the village's men dispersed, with Haerak and Aina moving to a safe place, the group's hearts beat as one, knowing that the fight for survival had begun.

They reached the village's edge, where the village's men were preparing for the inevitable. 

Kazaks turned to Jiighual, his usually boisterous nature subdued. 

"We'll hold the line," he said, his voice low and steady.

Jiighual nodded, his eyes scanning the horizon. 

"We've fought together before. We can do it again."

But in that moment, they were ready. 

They were all ready.

△▼△▼△▼△

The air grew heavy at the shoreline as the Renaissance Band stood in formation, facing the approaching enemy ships. 

Morning sunlight gleamed off their weapons, but the tension in their hearts weighed heavier than the blades they carried. 

The sea stretched before them, restless with the advancing fleet. 

At least a hundred wooden warships surged toward the shore, their oars cutting through the waves like relentless harbingers of war.

Andhur adjusted his glasses, stepping forward with a hand raised as he carefully scanned the distant vessels. 

His childlike exuberance was absent, replaced by a focused intensity that struck a contrast to his usual demeanor. 

He crouched low, studying the ships, the spacing between them, the pattern of their movements, and the size of their crews.

After what felt like minutes, he finally turned to Zach, Gargeal, and the others, his voice clear and calm, almost unnervingly so.

"There are at least a hundred warships," Andhur began, his glaive resting in the crook of his arm. 

"Each can carry roughly thirty to forty warriors depending on size. That gives us an estimate of three to four thousand combatants. They're traveling in staggered formation—five waves, maybe six. If they land simultaneously, their strategy will hinge on overwhelming us with sheer numbers. They'll use the first wave to break our line, the second to secure their landing, and the rest to overrun us."

The group stood in stunned silence for a moment, processing his words. Micah, Killian, Seraphina, and Lyra exchanged looks of amazement. 

This was a side of Andhur they had never seen before. 

His usually carefree, almost goofy nature had given way to the razor-sharp mind of a tactician.

Micah let out a low whistle. 

"And here I thought you were just the guy who never stopped joking around."

Andhur smirked faintly, pushing his glasses up his nose. 

"When a warrior is serious, be surprised by what they're capable of."

Killian chuckled nervously. 

"Well, you've certainly surprised me."

Lyra nodded, admiration clear in her gaze. 

"I had no idea you could think like this, Andhur."

Seraphina grinned, though her grip tightened on her sidebag. 

"I guess there's more to you than meets the eye, huh?"

Andhur waved off their comments with a flick of his hand, but there was a small smile of satisfaction on his face. 

"Focus. This isn't the time for compliments."

Gargeal, gripping his greatsword, turned to Zach, his expression steady but expectant. 

"Captain. What's the plan?"

Zach stepped forward, his claymore resting on his shoulder. His face was grim as he turned to Seraphina. 

"What potions and vials did you bring? Tell me everything."

Seraphina quickly knelt, opening her sidebag and pulling out a collection of glass vials, each filled with shimmering liquids in shades of green, blue, and red. 

"I brought healing elixirs, stamina boosters, and some elemental potions—fire, ice, and paralysis effects. There are also defensive smokescreens and a few shamanic brews that can increase agility or strength for a short period."

Zach's eyes narrowed as he assessed her supplies. 

"Good. We'll need those strategically. Here's the plan." 

He turned to the group, his voice commanding as he began assigning positions.

"Lyra, take the higher ground on the ridge to the west. Use your arrows to pick off their commanders as they land. Focus on disrupting their chain of command."

Lyra nodded, her bow already in hand. 

"Got it."

"Micah, Killian," Zach continued.

"You two will take the flanks with your dao swords. Don't let them surround us. Stay mobile, and keep cutting down their weaker fighters to slow their momentum."

The siblings exchanged a quick glance before nodding in unison. 

Killian said.

"Understood."

"Leeani," Zach said, turning to her.

"Support Lyra with your crossbow. Keep the pressure on their archers."

Leeani replied, already checking her arrows.

"Consider it done."

"Andhur," Zach said, his tone softening just slightly. 

"You're with me in the center. Your glaive will be crucial for holding the line."

Andhur gave a curt nod, his focus unwavering. 

"I won't let you down."

"Yzavynne," Zach continued, his gaze shifting to the whip-blade wielder.

"Use your weapon's reach to disrupt their formations. Target their shields and disarm as many as you can."

Yzavynne smirked, the familiar edge of battle already igniting in her eyes. 

"Sounds exciting!"

"Seraphina," Zach said, his tone measured.

"Stay behind the main line. Use your potions to heal and support as needed. If things get too chaotic, retreat and focus on aiding anyone who falls back."

Seraphina hesitated for a moment, then nodded. 

"Understood."

Finally, Zach turned to Qarek. 

"Your war axe will be invaluable for breaking through their vanguard. But remember—activate your tattoo only when the ships reach the shore. Conserve your strength until then."

Qarek hesitated for a split second, doubt flickering in his eyes, but he said nothing. 

He simply nodded and tightened his grip on his axe.

Zach took a deep breath, his gaze sweeping over his comrades. 

"This is going to be tough. I won't lie—we're outnumbered, and we might not hold the frontline for long. But we've faced worse odds before. Trust each other, and we'll get through this."

Just as Zach finished speaking, a deafening roar echoed across the shoreline.

Cannons fired from the advancing ships, and a volley of arrows rained down from the sky. 

The group froze, unprepared to block the onslaught.

Zach shouted, instinctively raising his claymore, though it would do little against the barrage.

"Incoming!" 

Suddenly, the sand beneath their feet shifted. 

A figure burst from the ground, her movements swift and almost unnatural. 

In one fluid motion, she stretched out her arms, catching the arrows mid-air and deflecting the cannonballs with an eerie precision.

The Renaissance Band stared in stunned silence as the figure landed gracefully, her back to them. 

Slowly, she turned, revealing a face that sent shockwaves through the group.

Micah whispered, her voice trembling.

"Tina?" 

Killian's grip on his sword faltered. 

"But... you're dead."

Tina's expression was calm but tinged with sorrow. 

"Long story short, I'm not alive. Evelori revived me, and I'm here to help you protect the village we once built. I'll do it for them—for Haerak and Aina."

Lyra stepped forward, her voice shaking. 

"But you should go meet them—Haerak and Aina need to see you!"

Tina shook her head, her gaze firm. 

"Let's focus on this war, shall we? There's no time for reunions."

She turned to the unfamiliar faces—Zach, Gargeal, Leeani, Yzavynne, and the others. 

"I'm not your enemy. I'm Haerak's dead wife, and Aina's mother. Nice to meet all of you. No need for introduction, I already know all of you. "

The group, especially the Renaissance band remained silent, the gravity of her words sinking in. 

Zach was the first to recover, his voice steady. 

"If you're here to fight, then let's fight together. We'll need all the help we can get."

Tina nodded, her arms glowing faintly with a strange energy. 

"Then let's not waste any more time. They're almost here."

The Renaissance Band braced themselves as the enemy ships drew closer, the waves crashing violently against the shore. 

The battle for the village was about to begin.

△▼△▼△▼△

The Drakonium warships surged forward, their towering masts cutting through the misty sea as their hulls scraped the shore. 

The first wave disembarked swiftly—hundreds of warriors clad in mismatched armor, their weapons glinting in the faint sunlight. 

Sand churned under their boots as they charged, bellowing war cries that drowned out the rhythmic crashing of the waves.

Just then, Qarek, Leeani, Yzavynne, and Andhur appeared a tattoo on their forehead.

From the high ground, Lyra drew her bowstring, her fingers trembling for a moment as she took aim. 

She had never killed before. 

The hesitation was brief but palpable, her heart pounding as she whispered to herself.

"It's them or us." 

Releasing her arrow, it soared through the air with deadly precision, piercing the neck of a charging warrior. 

He collapsed onto the sand, lifeless. 

Her breath hitched, but she forced herself to nock another arrow. 

Below her, Leeani was already raining bolts down on the invaders, each one finding its mark with unerring accuracy.

Lyra steadied her breathing, her eyes scanning the battlefield. 

Every arrow she loosed felt heavier than the last, but she pushed through the weight of her conscience. 

"I can do this. I have to."

At the flanks, Micah and Killian moved like twin storms. 

Their dao swords flashed in the sunlight, cutting through armor and flesh with brutal efficiency. 

Micah lunged forward, spinning to slice through the legs of an advancing warrior before driving her blade into another's chest. 

Beside her, Killian parried a spear thrust and retaliated with a powerful upward slash, his movements swift and precise.

Killian shouted over the chaos, his voice steady despite the blood splattering across his face.

"Stay close, Micah!" 

Micah replied, sidestepping an attack and bringing her sword down on her opponent. 

"I'm right here, brother!" 

Together, they held their ground, a whirlwind of steel and resolve.

At the center of the front line, Zach's claymore cleaved through enemy ranks. 

The massive blade was an extension of his fury, each swing a declaration of defiance. 

Andhur fought beside him, his glaive spinning in wide arcs that forced the Drakonium warriors to keep their distance. 

When one got too close, Andhur's glaive struck with surgical precision, severing the attacker's weapon hand before delivering a fatal blow.

"Hold the line!"

 Zach roared, his voice cutting through the cacophony of battle. 

His claymore smashed into a shield, splintering it before the blade found its target. 

"Don't let them break through!"

Yzavynne, further back, wielded her whip blade with deadly grace. 

The weapon snapped and coiled, tearing through shields and weapons alike. 

With each strike, she disarmed her opponents, leaving them vulnerable. 

Her whip wrapped around the neck of a warrior, and with a sharp pull, she ended him. Her crimson eyes burned with an unrelenting fire. 

She spat, her voice cold and venomous.

"Weaklings."

Seraphina, positioned behind the main line, hurled her potions into clusters of enemies. 

One vial shattered, releasing a freezing mist that encased a dozen warriors in ice. 

Another erupted into flames, setting her foes ablaze. 

The battlefield became a chaotic tapestry of fire and frost as she worked tirelessly, her hands moving with practiced precision.

Zach called out as a new wave of warriors surged forward.

"Seraphina! Another batch, now!"

She replied, her voice steady despite the chaos. 

"On it!"

She tossed a potion toward the approaching enemies, freezing the ground beneath them and causing several to lose their footing.

Meanwhile, Qarek's war axe carved through the enemy ranks with unrelenting ferocity. 

He moved like a storm, his axe cleaving through armor and bone. 

Despite his brute strength, his strikes were calculated, each swing aimed to maximize damage. 

His breaths came in ragged gasps, but he pressed on, his mind focused on the battle. 

He muttered under his breath, his voice barely audible amidst the carnage.

"We don't die here!"

Suddenly, a volley of arrows and cannon fire rained down on them. 

Tina, standing at the rear, sprang into action. 

Her arms stretched impossibly wide, catching the incoming projectiles with her bare hands. 

Cannonballs crushed into her palms, their momentum dissipating as if hitting an immovable wall.

The Renaissance Band watched in awe as Tina shielded them. 

Her expression was calm, almost serene, as she deflected the onslaught. 

 She said, her voice steady but laced with determination.

"You'll need to thank me later."

Zach clenched his fists, his voice rising above the din. 

"For EmberWind!" 

His war cry rippled through the battlefield, igniting a surge of adrenaline in his comrades.

The others echoed their cry, their voices blending into a fierce chorus: 

"For EmberWind!"

Their resolve was tested further as the largest Drakonium warship finally docked. 

Its gangplank descended with a thundering crash, and from its depths emerged five figures: Ybael, Sentinel, Xertu, Sanaage, Thorne, and Eldritch. 

Their presence alone was enough to send a ripple of unease through the battlefield. 

The air grew colder, heavier, as if their very existence bent reality.

Ybael stepped forward, his sickly smile twisting his pale face. 

He raised his arms, addressing his warriors with a voice that was both commanding and chilling. 

"Do not fear death, my children. Fear disappointing me. You are not mere mortals; you are instruments of my will. Strike them down, and you will earn glory beyond measure. Fail, and you will earn only my wrath."

The warriors, invigorated by his words, charged with renewed ferocity.

Zach's eyes locked onto Ybael, his rage boiling over. 

He bellowed, his voice shaking with fury.

"Ybael!"

Before he could act, Tina levitated into the air, her body shifting as additional arms sprouted from her form. 

With a terrifying grace, she descended upon the enemy ranks, her elongated limbs striking down thousands in mere seconds. 

The battlefield became a slaughterhouse under her assault.

But then Ybael raised the Tome of Fate high above his head. 

The black leather tome glowed ominously, its power radiating outward in waves. 

The glow distorted reality, and suddenly, the battlefield itself began to twist and warp. 

A massive figure, forged from a grotesque, semi-solid form, emerged from the shoreline. 

Its body continuously dripped a tar-like substance that hissed upon contact with the ground, forming shallow craters of decay. In the center of its chest burned a single crimson-red eye, pulsating like a heartbeat, radiating malice so deep it seemed to pierce the soul of anyone who dared to look.

Then, the statues appeared—hundreds of them, men and women, naked and horrifying. 

Their stone-body, now turned to flesh, bore horrifying signs of torment: every opening of their bodies—eyes, ears, mouths, groins, noses—bled profusely, the streams of blood black as the void. Their features were frozen in eternal agony, mouths gaping wide as though caught mid-scream, though no sound escaped. They lined the sand like cursed sentinels, their presence oppressive and suffocating.

As the tome's glow intensified, the world began to unravel. 

The scene glitched unnaturally, like a broken reflection on shattered glass. Living and non-living beings alike were consumed in darkness as the corrupted energy surged. Bodies flickered between blackened silhouettes and distorted forms. The sky itself turned an abyssal black, spiraling as if the heavens were being devoured. The ground writhed beneath their feet, each grain of sand stained with void-like corruption. The world shuddered and blurred, every element of reality dissolving into a hellish chaos. 

Every scream, every cry of battle was distorted, like echoes from a nightmare, as existence itself bent to the tome's unfathomable power.

Everyone froze except Ybael as the stone statues emerged from the sand and a large figure materialized on the shoreline—statues and things only Zach had been able to see before.

This time—

Everyone could see them.

═════ ◆ THE END OF VOLUME 1 ◆ ═════

◆ ◆ ◆ Author's Notes ◆ ◆ ◆

See you all in Volume 2!