After Nero had pulled himself together, he turned around and gave the signal. A surge of motion swept through the enormous mass of Polykenas that had gathered on the steps of the castle and across the surrounding landscape. Xersies and Ester lifted into the air beside Nero. Everything had already been coordinated and agreed upon, yet commands were still shouted through the ranks of the Polykenas.
Shire was the first to move. Usually, his role was to guard Nero, but now he had to command the core strength of their army. His Patron, the Black Patron, was an elite unit of two hundred highly trained Polykenas. Their bodies were marked with dozens of strengthening symbols. All of them were warriors, but they stood apart as the strongest and most skillful.
Shire was the first to step out of the portal. He dropped into the depths below. Though the portal floated high above the ground, he landed without injury. He whistled, and more commands were barked into the air. His Patron, the copper Patron, followed next; they jumped and landed safely. Then Nero gave a short nod, and Ramor descended with his own Patron.
They drew dozens of symbols on the ground with astonishing speed and precision, while Ramor observed them closely. Here and there, he scolded one of his students and improved the symbol. He was a strict teacher, but he was actually quite gentle with his students, at least compared to the rest of the generals.
Once they had finished, Ramor and his students turned around and activated the symbols on their bodies. They lifted off again and disappeared back through the portal. They would return to the Polykenas' dimension to begin the large-scale drawing of the next wave of symbols.
Back on the field, the Black Patron knelt on the earth and activated the glyphs. A bright light burst upward, reaching into the sky. A soft blue barrier began to form, slowly covering the area. Shire, silent as always, grunted, and his first officer, a broad and powerful Polykenas, issued a command.
At last, the main army began to emerge from the portal.
The height would have injured most of them, but that was exactly why the symbols had been drawn. Every Polykenas who stepped through descended slowly and steadily to the ground. Below, they lined up and began to form organized groups. Alongside the warrior Polykenas, several hundred magical Polykenas flew out into the open.
Among them, the most striking group consisted of seventy Polykenas dressed in pale clothing, with luminous wings of light sprouting from their backs, similar in appearance to Xersies. They hovered over the dark-skinned Polykenas who stood on the ground. One of them, the leader of the frontmost unit, broke away from formation and flew upward toward Nero and Xersies.
Once he reached them, he bowed deeply to Nero. "My Duce," he said.
"Istric," Nero answered flatly, his eyes lost in the distance, consumed by thought.
Istric was a heavy Polykenas. He carried a significant amount of mass and had countless eyes, much like Shire. However, his skin was pale, and he was barely half Shire's size. A long third arm extended from between his shoulder blades.
Altogether, he seemed harmless. But that was a deception. He was Xersies' highest-ranking officer, second in command of the Golden Patron. While his power was far below that of Xersies, he still belonged to the top one percent of all Polykenas in terms of combat strength.
His many eyes turned toward Xersies, and he bowed once more. "I bring unfortunate news," he said. The tension in his voice was clear. "Number Sixty Four and Number Thirteen had a dispute. Unfortunately, it turned violent. Sixty-four was severely wounded, and Thirteen also suffered significant injuries. Most of the damage has been healed, but they are not yet at full strength."
Nero, who had only been half-listening, snapped out of his thoughts. He stared directly at Istric, "How could this happen? Can't you control your own men?" He asked in a cold voice.
Istric flinched. "Yes, of course, my Duce. But I was busy organizing the attack with Shire and overseeing the role of the Golden Patron. I was not..." he started to stammer, trying to come up with an excuse. But before he could finish, a bright flash struck his cheek and silenced him.
Xersies, who floated beside Nero, glared down at him, filled with rage. His strike had been impossibly fast and perfectly precise, but it had only slightly injured Istric.
"Shut up! We don't need your excuses," Xersies growled angrily.
"I am sorry, my Duce," Xersies said to Nero. "This is my failure. I have neglected my duty and failed to train my underling properly."
Nero gave a short nod.
Xersies then turned to Istric, who shrank under his gaze. He had forced Xersies to apologize to the Duce, an unforgivable humiliation. Istric felt it. He could feel the fury in Xersies' eyes.
"Go," Xersies commanded. "Take command of the Golden Patron. We will deal with your punishment later."
Nero knew that this punishment would be unspeakably cruel torture. Xersies showed no mercy when it came to failure within the Polykenas ranks. How else could he have ruled them for so many centuries? The slightest hint of weakness, and predators like Fril and Shire would have torn him apart without hesitation.
Istric swallowed hard and said nothing as he returned to his unit.
Two more Patrons flew through the portal. One was the red Patron, made up of twenty-five blood mages. They reported directly to Ester. The other was the blue Patron, led by an unusual lightning mage, Polykenas. His personality was eccentric, but no one could question his strength. He stood on the same level as Krell.
Krell also had his own Patron. However, he was currently busy transporting the symbols drawn by Ramor. Each trip became slightly easier for him, but it still caused unbearable pain.
After nearly half a day, all the Polykenas of the first strike force had passed through the portal. Nearly four million in total. The majority were warrior Polykenas of low to mid-level strength. Only a little over two thousand white-skinned Polykenas were part of the army, though three full Patrons were among them. Their purpose was to protect the army from aerial attacks if needed.
Once preparations were complete, Shire began the march eastward. He carried a detailed map with all key locations clearly marked. The Polykenas within the army longed to destroy everything in their path, but they had been strictly forbidden to do so. Their speed was their greatest asset. The full-scale destruction of the planet would not begin until the world's main powers had been crushed.
As Shire advanced, three more armies appeared.
Fril came first, with two million warrior Polykenas and four hundred mages. His mission was to shatter the North. That region had the lowest population, scattered tribes, and only a few real kingdoms. His army was much smaller than Shire's for this reason.
Next came the second army, made up of two million more warriors and about six hundred mages. Their destination was the West, but there were only a small number of cities till the continent ended in a giant ocean. After that, it was only a few small island tribes.
And then there was Nero's army. It was the smallest of them all, containing just over one million warrior Polykenas, but it boasted nine thousand mages.
Their mission was to destroy Gloris, the capital of religion and magic. As a result, Nero's army was significantly more powerful than the others on average.
At its front flew Nero, Xersies, and Ester. They surged forward at incredible speed toward the South. But even with their momentum, they were still too slow.
---
In Gloris, the city was in chaos. Slowly but surely, order was being restored under the tight grip of the Church of the Sun God. At its heart stood a massive cathedral.
Far beneath it, deep underground, four individuals sat around a round table in a small room. They all wore the classic red and yellow robes of the Church. One of them wore a golden crown with a sun-shaped ornament at its peak. This was the holy Luis, head of the Church. He was shockingly young, barely thirty. His hair was brown, and his eyes the color of chestnuts.
Next to him sat a much older man with gray hair and deep wrinkles.
Across from him sat a stunning woman with long red hair. Her eyes were a vivid blue, but her expression was tight with worry. Beside her was a man in his late sixties. His black hair had begun to turn gray, but there was still strength in his eyes. His muscles strained visibly under his robe.
The last person was a woman as well, though her face was hidden behind a large sun-shaped mask with two eyeholes cut out. A hood covered her head. Not even her skin color could be seen.
All of them stared at the center of the table. A small, unimpressive stone lay there. But it was a rare artifact. It could record images and sound and send them to similar stones. However, only two such objects existed in the entire world of Scur. One was held by a saint of the Church. The other was here.
The video played on loop. It showed a city in ruins and a man running in desperation. His clothes were torn, his body burned. He screamed, "They came...In thousands...No, in millions...They killed everyone. Even the Lord...Run..." he urged, "Hide...They will come for you too...you can't..."
Suddenly, a colossal being in black war armor appeared behind the unknown man. It had six glowing yellow eyes. The man screamed as the creature grabbed his head. Despite its overwhelming size, it moved too fast to follow. In the next moment, the man's head exploded.
And the video began again.