Chapter 111: The Tyrant King's Gambit
Xelthar, the Fallen Kingdom.
Once, it had been a land of scholars and warriors, a kingdom that stood at the forefront of mana research.
Now?
It was a desperate empire on the verge of collapse.
And at the center of its throne room, amidst dimly lit braziers and war-torn banners, sat King Veylor Xelthar—the Tyrant King.
His blackened armor gleamed beneath the flickering torchlight, his piercing silver eyes locked onto the war map before him. His kingdom was surrounded. The war with Eldoria had drained their forces.
And now, the Vanguard was marching straight toward them.
But King Veylor did not look afraid.
No.
The King of Xelthar only smirked.
Because while Eldoria thought they were marching toward victory—
He was about to unleash the future.
A robed figure kneeled before the king—High Researcher Aldric Vaen, the architect of Xelthar's infamous experiments.
"The final stage is prepared, my King," Aldric said, his voice filled with a twisted reverence. "The Calamities have begun their second evolution."
Veylor leaned forward, resting his chin on his knuckles. "And their control?"
Aldric hesitated, just for a second. "Still… unstable. But we've made adjustments. The Forsaken entities disrupted our calculations, but with the blood rituals, we believe we can bind them to your will."
Veylor smirked. "Good. Then all is proceeding as planned."
Aldric swallowed, then spoke carefully. "Your Majesty… this war—"
"Is necessary," Veylor interrupted.
He stood from his throne, towering over the room.
"You think I do this for conquest?" His voice was low, deadly. "That I unleash horrors upon the world for my own amusement?"
Aldric flinched. "N-No, Your Majesty—"
Veylor slammed a gauntleted fist onto the map table.
"Eldoria has ruled unchallenged for centuries. They hoard mana, control the flow of knowledge, dictate the rules of our world—while our people starve and wither."
His silver eyes burned. "I do what must be done. Xelthar will not be erased from history. We will force the world to evolve."
Aldric bowed his head. "Yes, my King."
Veylor exhaled. "The Forsaken complicate matters, but they do not change the outcome. Eldoria's forces may be strong, but when our creations awaken, they will break."
A smirk tugged at his lips.
"And when the Vanguard falls, their empire will crumble next."
The doors to the war chamber opened.
A figure stepped inside.
She moved like a shadow—graceful, silent, deadly.
Princess Ilyra Xelthar, the Blade of the Night.
Unlike her father, she wore no armor. Only a black combat suit, sleek and light, allowing for perfect movement. Twin curved blades rested at her hips, their edges gleaming with a dark blue hue.
"You summoned me, Father?"
Veylor turned to her, his smirk widening. "You will join the generals in the coming battle."
Ilyra's expression remained unreadable. "Finally."
Veylor chuckled. "Eager?"
"I trained for this," she said simply. "I am not like you, Father. I do not seek power for its own sake. But I do know this—"
She drew one of her blades, the dark steel humming with mana.
"Eldoria stands in the way of our future. And I will carve a path through them."
Veylor grinned. "That's my daughter."
He gestured to the war table, where red markers of Eldoria's forces slowly moved toward them.
"The Vanguard is coming. And when they arrive…"
He leaned back onto his throne, eyes filled with pure malice.
"We will show them the true future of this world."
Far from Xelthar's war room, the greatest army Eldoria had assembled in centuries marched toward the enemy's final stronghold.
And at the very front, leading the charge, rode the most elite warriors of the empire.
The Vanguard marched alongside them.
But they were not alone.
For the first time, their reinforcements had arrived.
Rheon Veyrin, his crimson sigils already glowing, rode beside his younger brother, smirking. "Finally, we get to fight together again."
Kael gave a tired exhale. "You sound too excited about this."
Rheon grinned. "I've been waiting to see if my little brother can actually keep up."
Magnus Grimthorne, a massive enchanted axe strapped to his back, rolled his shoulders. "Enough talk. If Xelthar wants a war, we'll give them one."
And then—
A voice, soft but firm, cut through the air.
"You two never change."
Kael turned.
His elder sister, Elira Veyrin, stood beside them, her black hair swaying in the wind, eyes sharp with quiet resolve.
"You survived this long," she said, glancing at Kael, "so I suppose I should stop worrying about you."
Kael chuckled. "You? Worry? I don't believe it."
Elira smirked. "Don't push it."
Lucian, watching the interactions, exhaled. "I take it the family reunion is over?"
Selene nodded. "We have bigger matters to focus on."
Grandmaster Reynard Faelwyn,the sixth-year instructor and veteran commander, rode to the front of the army. His voice rang out with authority.
"Vanguard, generals, knights—this is the final march."
The generals of Eldoria's great houses rode alongside him.
Duke Varian Duskbane's Vice Commander.
Duke Ragnor Grimthorne's Battle Strategist.
Duke Zephyrion's Lightning Captain.
Marquis Faelwyn's Shadow General.
The highest-ranked warriors, second only to their rulers, had come.
The might of the empire was here.
And then—
The sky darkened.
A pulse of sickening mana rippled from the fortress ahead.
The final battle had begun.