Warm water slipped from the corner of Helios' mouth, trailing down his chin as he stirred. His eyes fluttered open, and the first thing he saw was Rudolph's anxious face hovering above him.
The moment awareness returned, Helios choked, his body convulsing as he coughed up the water still lingering in his throat. His muscles tensed in protest, sharp pains reminding him of the wounds he had sustained.
"Your Majesty!" Rudolph's voice was taut with concern as he knelt beside him.
Helios rested his head on his hand, trying to make sense of his surroundings. His armor, though battered, had absorbed most of the blows that should have ended him.
"Are you in pain?" Rudolph pressed. "There were no major injuries, but—"
"Where are the men?" Helios cut in, his voice hoarse. "And the pegasi?"
Silence hung between them. The weight of it sent an icy dread through Helios' veins. He lifted his gaze to Rudolph, who hesitated.
"The army…" Rudolph finally spoke, his voice almost a whisper. "Annihilated. Few survived. The rest fell to Dabbah's wrath. I managed to pull you from the battlefield before the monster could claim your life, Your Majesty."
Helios exhaled slowly, glancing around. They were sheltered within the ruins—crumbling stone walls, remnants of a forgotten past, now serving as a fragile refuge. Scattered among the wreckage were the remnants of his once-mighty army, now reduced to a mere handful.
"Have you sent word?" he asked, shifting on the uneven ground, his body protesting the movement.
Rudolph nodded. "Lucerne has been informed."
Helios remained silent for a moment before rising to his feet, his movements careful. His gaze drifted over the men—no longer an army, but a fragmented band of survivors. A force once feared, now barely enough to call a mercenary group.
"We keep moving forward," he said at last.
Rudolph hesitated, watching him closely. Helios met his gaze, and for a fleeting moment, bitterness resurfaced—the shadow of betrayal. But with the war pressing upon them, there was no time to dwell on the past.
Helios stepped forward, treading cautiously over the jagged terrain. The dawn stretched before him, painting the sky in muted golds and grays. Another morning. Another uncertain future.
"What choice do we have? Only the divine can grant us aid now."
He turned to his men. "We continue toward the volcanic region. We leave at midday."
Time was a luxury they no longer had. Their departure had already been delayed far longer than he had anticipated.
Meanwhile, in the rear mountainous region, Octavius had ordered a retreat from the borders. His forces repositioned, fortifying themselves for the next inevitable clash.
A week after their relocation, the dark troops arrived. The signal had been sent like a shockwave across the land, reaching those who had been separated.
Helios' men received the message, and with it came a mix of anxiety and relief. He understood the implications immediately—Luciana had assumed command in his absence. For the first time in a long while, reassurance settled in his chest.
With renewed purpose, he pressed forward. This time, there would be no retreat.
Elsewhere, Erebus had regained consciousness. Though still wounded, he refused the luxury of recovery. The moment he awoke, he seized control of his forces, working swiftly to repair the damage sustained in the previous battle.
Every night, he interrogated prisoners. Those who provided valuable information were spared. The rest—unwilling to speak—were sent to the torture tents, their knowledge extracted by force before they were hanged at dawn.
The plan to eliminate Dabbah and his monstrous allies took shape. They would lure the entities into the mountainous terrain, where their uncontrollable rage would turn them against each other.
But how?
Erebus and Octavius clashed over the details, their disagreements threatening to stall progress. It wasn't until Canute and Lucerne intervened that the plan took its final form. A unanimous vote from both armies sealed their decision—Lucerne would lead under the guidance of the new Grand Alchemist.
Canute sat within his private tent, eyes fixed on a small device before him. A sphere of intricate rings rotated in synchronized motion, shifting through unseen forces.
The flap of the tent stirred, and a voice cut through the silence.
"You called, Grandmaster?"
Canute looked up.
Lucerne stood before him. The boy he once knew was gone, replaced by a hardened warrior. The resemblance to Rudolph was striking—so much so that Canute had nearly mistaken him for a younger version of the man.
"Centurionus Lucerne," Canute addressed him formally. "Take one hundred troops. Return to the ruins of Deshrat near the volcanic region. I have detected a faint life force moving there."
Lucerne stiffened. "His Majesty…? He's alive?"
"And your father as well," Canute added, eyes never leaving the sphere.
Lucerne's breath caught in his throat.
"They made it out," Canute continued. "But the army has been wiped out. Their numbers have dwindled to barely enough to call them nomads. You will take a hundred dark troops and thirty alchemists with you."
Lucerne bowed. "Understood."
As he turned to leave, something gnawed at him—an unease that had lingered since the battle. He hesitated, then finally spoke.
"There's something else you should know."
Canute looked up, brow furrowing.
"Dabbah…" Lucerne swallowed. "During our engagement, I noticed something disturbing. That creature… it can manipulate minds—both human and demonic. Anyone who met its gaze lost control. They walked to their deaths willingly, as if ensnared by an unseen force."
Canute's expression darkened. "Then we must act with greater caution."
Lucerne clenched his fists.
"Only when His Majesty created that barrier of divine energy were we able to escape that trap…"
The weight of what lay ahead settled upon him.
This was no ordinary battle. This was a war against forces beyond comprehension.
And time was running out.