Nero gazed into the distance, his eyes fixed on the horizon. Behind him stretched the vast army of the Polykenas. It consisted of one million warrior Polykenas and nine thousand Polykenas mages. Nero floated in the sky, carried by a black cloud of smoke, with Ester standing beside him. Xersies remained in the temporary camp of the army.
Nero was lost in deep thought when something suddenly drew his attention. A small Polykenas flew up to him. The creature was not coming from the camp, but from the front. It was the leader of the Yellow Patron.
The Yellow Patron was not meant for fighting, but for surveillance. They were incredibly fast, though their combat strength was minimal. Yet despite that weakness, they were one of the most important parts of the army.
The small Polykenas bowed low.
"My Duce…" he said hesitantly, "we have found them…"
Nero looked at him with curiosity. "Found who?"
"The humans. We have found out where they went."
The expression on Nero's face faltered. He had expected it, yet he had hoped he was mistaken. He knew, of course, what lay not even five days' march away: the city of Gloris.
Nero forced himself to calm down. "So they truly gathered in Gloris."
"Yes…" The small Polykenas replied, "But there is more…"
"What?" Nero asked impatiently.
"It is difficult to explain. It would be better if you see it for yourselves."
Nero nodded. He turned and called for Xersies.
"The army must prepare to march. They are to follow the road toward the setting sun,"
Nero ordered. "Once you have given the command, return. We have something to investigate."
"As you command."
Once the orders had been delivered, Nero and his companions immediately set out, guided by the leader of the Yellow Patron.
They flew at incredible speed through the skies, covering hundreds of kilometers every hour. They traveled for nearly two hours before finally reaching their destination. By then, even Xersies was exhausted and needed a pause, but they had no time to rest. For less than three kilometers away stood a gigantic city.
It was the greatest city Nero had ever seen. White walls rose three hundred meters high and dozens of meters thick. And that was only the first of five rings. At the very center of the fortress stood a massive dome, even larger than Nero's own stronghold. People swarmed like ants through the streets, and through a massive, resplendent golden gate streamed even more humans into the city.
A strange aura radiated from Gloris, pressing a heavy weight into the hearts of Nero and his companions. It felt suffocating, as if the city itself were casting a judgmental gaze upon them. At once, Nero understood why Fril had never dared to enter this place.
"So this is Gloris…" Ester murmured.
"Go," Nero said to the small leader of the Yellow Patron. "Fetch Ramor. Hurry!" he commanded.
Ramor had not come with them, for he was busy with tasks within the dimension of the Polykenas. But Nero knew they would need him, for on the towering wall shimmered massive symbols written in golden script, glowing brightly with gathered magic.
"Why did Fril not mention this?" Xersies asked angrily.
Nero tapped a small symbol on his neck. "Fril. Do you hear me?"
"Yes, my Duce," came Fril's hissing voice, directly within Nero's mind.
"When you scouted the city of Gloris, did you notice symbols carved upon the walls?"
"No, my Duce. That cannot be. Symbolic magic belongs to the forbidden arts. Symbolics are hunted down by the church." Fril replied.
Nero nodded and broke the connection.
Then he turned to Xersies. "What do you make of this?"
The yellow eyes of Xersies gleamed, his long black hair whipping in the strong wind. "I believe him."
"That means the Church has permitted foreign magicians to act within their ranks…" Ester murmured.
All of them stared at the walls of the city, at the countless people within, and at the glowing symbols etched into the stone.
Nero sighed. "We have no other choice. We must delay our assault."
"But if we delay the attack, we only give them more time to prepare," Xersies muttered.
Nero shook his head. "We cannot take this city with only our part of the army. I do not even know if we would be enough to win in an open battle. We have to wait for Shire and co to catch up with us. Yet we also cannot allow them to gather more within those walls. We must act. Come, we need to get back."
With that, he gave a Signal, and they turned around and left.
-----
High upon the mighty walls of Gloris stood Gerald, the supreme general of the army. His hair was light blond, his eyes blue like the sea, and just as deep. In his splendid golden armor, he looked like a living statue.
On his chest shone the symbol of the sun, the holy sign of the Church. He was a man of immense renown, one whom every soldier of the city looked up to. He was a living emblem of strength, a symbol of glory. He had already led many wars in the name of the Church.
Beside him, an old scientist pressed nervously against the battlements and pointed out into the distance.
"There, do you see?"
Gerald lifted a long copper telescope to his eyes and followed the man's gesture. Beyond the fields, high in the air, he saw three figures. They hovered like shadows over the horizon.
One was tall and gaunt, his face hidden behind a raven mask, his body wrapped in a black cloak. The second was a pale young man, barely older than twenty-five, with hair black as pitch and eyes feverishly glowing. Upon his head rested a crown, crude and alien, while his cloak whipped violently in the storm. To the other side stood a being that looked almost human, were it not for its yellow eyes, glowing ominously, and its clawed hands with three fingers, sharp as daggers.
Gerald observed as they exchanged words. Then the young man in the middle lifted his hand like a lord commanding his servants. Instantly, the three turned and vanished.
The general lowered the telescope.
"Well?" the scientist asked quietly.
Gerald's brow was furrowed, yet his voice was as steady as steel. "The two on the edges are without doubt some of those creatures. But the one in the middle… he seemed human. Or at least he appeared so."
"Deception!" the old man spat. "These demons master every form of trickery. We cannot trust our eyes."
Gerald breathed heavily. "Perhaps. But one thing is certain: they are harbingers. Where scouts appear, an army follows. Our time grows short."
His gaze swept over the runes carved into the battlements of the city, symbols that glimmered faintly in the dim light. "Fortunately, the Church has taken precautions."
"I do not trust these false magicians," the scientist muttered. "They do not follow the command of the Sun God."
Gerald turned to him, his voice sharp as a blade. "And yet they are men, like us. The true enemy is those creatures, not our own kin. This war is not about faith. It is about us, humanity, against them."
Then, with a harder tone, he added, "But when this is over, we will deal with those men as well. We use them as the front line. They can die for the Church. The survivors we will bring to trial. Yet that is their fortune, for perhaps they will find redemption in the grace of the Sun God for their service. For now, we must deal with these things first."
"They are demons," the old man muttered.
But Gerald shook his head. "No. They do not deserve that name. It elevates them. They are creatures, nothing more. They bleed as we do, and they die as we do. We have seen their corpses, scattered across the villages they destroyed. That alone is our comfort."
For a moment, silence hung between them. Then the scientist asked in a frail voice: "And what are your orders now?"
Gerald straightened, his voice thunderous, as though he were already giving command to unseen legions. "We close the gates. Everyone outside must be brought in as quickly as possible."
"But, General… that will overload the city. We must record their names, assign them properly; otherwise, chaos will erupt."
"We have no choice," Gerald sighed, knowing full well the chaos and crimes this would unleash. "The city will be overburdened regardless. But if we delay because of bureaucratic nonsense, half of our people will be trapped outside the walls without protection. That would be far worse, would it not?"
"Of course…" the old man muttered. "But if we close the gates now, what of the many who have not yet arrived? What will we do for them?"
Gerald's gaze hardened, his jaw tightening. "Nothing. We cannot save everyone. To march out now to collect each straggler would weaken our defense and endanger us all. In war, one must choose, and sometimes that means accepting sacrifice."
"But sir...your daughter is still out there."
Gerald's face distorted, but he forcefully calmed himself.
He laid his hand on the golden sun emblem upon his chest. "Such is war. Such is life. If she is strong, she will find a way home. Now, ready yourself, old friend. It will begin soon."
"Of course," the old man whispered. Gerald saw in his friend's eyes a weariness that came from more than age alone. He walked slowly toward the lift that would carry him down from the wall.
Gerald turned once more, gazing out over the vast landscape. He thought of his daughter, and concern showed in his eyes. He leaned against the battlements of the walls, watching over the landscape. Beautiful, wide fields stretched beyond the walls. Birds soared through the skies, and deer bounded across tall grasses. He even saw a pack of wolves fighting and playing with each other.
He exhaled. This was the beauty of creation. This was life, this was nature, this was what his god willed. This was what he fought for. And this was what he was willing to die for.