CHAPTER TEN
The Gathering Storm
The air over Edin thickened until it felt alive. Clouds gathered like armies. Lightning forked across the horizon without rain. The forests whispered with unease. Animals fled the plains in herds, their instincts sharper than Shamite machines.
Belial stood upon the ridge, surveying his encampment. The Forged, now numbering nearly five thousand, glimmered in perfect rows, their golden eyes catching the stormlight. His generals stood at his side, divided in loyalty yet bound by command.
"This storm," Maelor muttered, jaw tight, "is not weather. It is war."
Belial's lips curled faintly. "Then let the world come. Let Edin throw her fury. We will answer with steel and fire."
The Call of the Priest
Far to the north, the high priest stood upon a sacred hill, his staff plunged into the soil. Udu knelt at his side, torn between grief and duty.
The priest raised his arms, chanting in the tongue of roots and rivers. His voice was not loud, yet the trees shuddered, the ground rippled, and the clouds above swirled into a vortex.
"All children of Edin," he intoned, "rise. Rise against the strangers who wound you. Rise against the maker of husks. Rise for the Mother."
From the forests, hunters assembled. From the rivers, tribes emerged. From the mountains, stone-skinned beasts lumbered forth. They gathered in numbers unseen in generations.
Udu felt the weight of destiny pressing upon him. He had been bridge once. Now he was betrayer. Yet in his heart, he whispered: Better betrayer than slave.
The First Clash
At dawn, the indigenous army surged across the plain. Spears glinted in the stormlight, drums thundered like the planet's own heartbeat. Beasts roared, their tusks sharp as spears, their hides thick as stone.
Belial stood tall at the camp's edge, his blade humming with light. He raised his arm.
"Forged, forward!"
The Forged advanced as one, a tide of stone and fire. Plasma weapons ignited, cutting swaths through the first ranks of hunters. Spears shattered against their bodies. Beasts slammed into them, breaking some to rubble, but Belial simply reshaped them mid-battle, raising them anew from dust.
The plain became chaos. Fire and storm collided with earth and blood. The indigenes fought with fury, but the Forged were endless, tireless, merciless.
The Fury of the Land
Then the land itself struck.
The ground convulsed, swallowing whole ranks of Forged. Geysers of scalding water erupted, blasting soldiers into the air. Roots burst from the soil, wrapping around legs, dragging Shamites screaming into the earth.
Belial bellowed, channeling his power. With a sweep of his hand, he tore roots apart, reshaped shattered Forged, hurled molten beasts back into the fissures.
But the land's fury did not relent. Each Forged he shaped seemed to deepen the wounds, each command pulling more wrath from the soil.
Maelor's Defiance
Amid the carnage, Maelor confronted him. His armor was bloodied, his eyes blazing.
"This is madness, Belial! We fight not men, not beasts but the world itself! No army can win this war!"
Belial turned on him, blade raised. "Do you doubt me in battle?"
"I doubt you in everything!" Maelor spat. "Akhan gave you the gift to save. You twist it to enslave. You doom us all."
For a heartbeat, Belial hesitated. Then, with a flick of his hand, he commanded the Forged nearest Maelor. They seized him, dragging him to his knees.
Belial's voice was ice. "There is no room for doubt. Only will."
And before the eyes of soldiers and Forged alike, he cut Maelor down.
Udu's Stand
Udu saw it from the far ridge, horror piercing him. The man who had once been bridge, who had once glimpsed Belial's pain, now knew there was no redemption.
He raised his voice to the tribes around him. "You see! He slays his own. He bends the dead to his will. He will not stop until this world is ash!"
The hunters roared in answer. The beasts surged forward again. The storm above cracked open, rain falling in sheets so heavy it blinded.
And Udu whispered a vow: If the bridge must burn, I will set it aflame.
The Breaking Point
The battle raged for hours. The plain became a graveyard of stone and flesh. Forged rose and fell in endless cycle. Hunters died by the hundreds, their blood mingling with mud.
Belial stood at the center, reshaping, commanding, roaring defiance at the storm. Each Forged obeyed his every thought, but each one drained him further. His veins glowed faintly gold, his skin cracked with power.
Finally, the land itself screamed. A quake split the battlefield in two. From the abyss rose a colossus of stone and root, its body the size of mountains, its eyes burning with the fury of Edin herself.
The high priest fell to his knees. "She is awake."
The Colossus of Edin
The colossus roared, a sound that shook the stars. Hunters scattered, Forged paused. Belial alone did not falter.
He raised his blade, its light flaring brighter than ever. "Then come, Mother of Edin. Face your god."
The colossus struck, its hand smashing through ranks of Forged, reducing them to rubble. Belial reshaped them instantly, but each act tore at his body, his strength fraying.
Still, he fought. Still, he commanded. Still, he defied.
For hours, man and planet clashed; creator against creation, dominion against defiance.
As night fell, the battlefield was unrecognizable. Forests burned. Rivers boiled. Corpses, human, Forged, beast; littered the mud. The colossus loomed still, wounded but unbroken. Belial stood bloodied, glowing faintly with the power he could no longer control.
Udu watched from the ridge, despair and awe warring within him.
"This is not war," he whispered. "This is apocalypse."
And in his heart, he knew: the true choice of Belial's heart was no longer between Akromos and Edin. It was between becoming savior or destroyer of worlds.