The earth trembled with the march of war.
Wagons rolled through the trees in endless columns, axles groaning beneath crates of iron and powder. Thousands of horses pulled heavy artillery pieces mounted on reinforced sleds and carts — massive mortars, siege howitzers, and long-range field guns sheathed in canvas. Sparks from forges lit the dark forest trail, flickering off steel barrels and polished rifle stocks.
Through the mist, the capital revealed itself — Lars — the beating heart of demi-human rule.
A vast white city, framed by sloped ridgelines and shimmering towers, its walls inscribed with thousands of glowing runes. At its core rose the spires of The Great Temple of Larrak, carved from pure mountain marble, surrounded by rings of residential districts, plazas, and noble estates.
The humans had come to end it.
From every direction — north, south, and east — the army spread like fire. Thirty thousand strong. Artillery units deployed with precision. Rifles bristled in formation behind wooden barricades. Medics and messengers moved swiftly between teams. Shovels struck the dirt. Earthworks rose. Field tents formed in crescent rings around command posts and artillery emplacements.
Above them all, on a southern hill crest, General Elisabeth Ritter surveyed the city through a spyglass.
Wind tugged at her coat. To her left rode Officer Durango. To her right, Lieutenant Marko Brandt. Their expressions were grim.
"Almost ready," Durango murmured.
Marko adjusted the strap of his rifle. "I can't believe we've made it this far."
Elisabeth lowered the glass.
"We didn't come to make it this far. We came to finish it."
Below them, engineers rolled long-barreled siege mortars into position on wooden sleds. Steel rods slammed into soil, securing angled launch platforms. Ammunition crates — marked with black Xs and chalked countdown codes — were stacked in clusters and guarded by riflemen.
Tents filled with range maps, flare signals, and messenger lines were erected like shrines to war.
Inside Lars
Demi-human sentries crowded the outer walls. The first rays of dusk were swallowed by tension.
"What are they doing?" a goat-kin soldier whispered, scanning the distant treeline.
"Surrounding us," muttered his sergeant, eyes hard. "Like wolves."
Then came the bells.
Low, deep, resonant.
First from the inner sanctum of the temple, then from the outlying towers, then from the noble quarter. Each bell echoed like a funeral knell.
Inside the city, chaos began to stir. Shops closed. Civilians packed satchels. Priests lit incense and marched in circles around the temple, chanting protection rites in ancient tongues. Archers scrambled to the parapets. Runes on the outer walls flickered to life, glowing faint blue as defensive enchantments activated.
In the marble command hall of the Great Temple, General Jvermy stood in silence. A jackal-kin of medium height but commanding voice, his dark cloak trailed the floor as he paced.
A lieutenant entered. "Sir, lookouts report human soldiers now fully encircle the city on three sides. No attempt at parley."
Jvermy approached the window, eyes locked on the red-tipped horizon.
"Because they've come to erase us."
Night fell heavy.
Elisabeth stood alone on the ridge.
Below her, the city of Lars shimmered like a pearl — bright and untouched. Not for long.
In her hand, she held a flare gun. A long-barreled signal weapon with crimson casing, one shot loaded.
Around her, commanders held their breath.
Her arm rose. No words spoken.
She pulled the trigger.
SSSSSSHRRRRRRRR—-BOOM
A single red flare screamed into the sky — an arc of light blazing above the valley. It hung in the air, burning over the city like a falling star.
In the streets of Lars, children pointed upward. Priests paused their chants. A group of demi-human archers hesitated at their towers.
Inside the Temple
General Jvermy's jaw clenched as he stepped outside onto the sacred balcony.
"What the hell was that?" his voice cut through the silence.
The glow of the flare reflected in his yellow eyes. His fur bristled.
"…a signal," he whispered. "But for what?"
The answer came before he finished the sentence.
BOOOOOOOOOOMMMM
The first mortar strike slammed into the northern wall. A second followed near the eastern gate, shattering a runic tower in a cloud of dust. The third landed square in a residential block — white stone exploded in a halo of fire and blood.
Then came the fourth. Fifth. Tenth. Twentieth.
The ground shuddered. Glass shattered. Beasts wailed.
All around the city, the siege had begun.
Mortars launched in rotating volleys, their plumes flashing like lightning against the night sky. Shells fell in waves — guided by radio relays and flare markers, not one wasted.
Flames erupted in every quarter.
The outer walls were no match for heavy long-range mortars. Runic shields flickered and failed as shell after shell battered the same points. Smoke filled the streets. Screams echoed between crumbling buildings.
A refugee camp at the western gate was reduced to ash in seconds. A barracks near the central spire collapsed under direct hits.
Inside the Great Temple, windows shattered. Statues cracked. Priests screamed as ceiling dust fell.
Jvermy grabbed a soldier by the collar. "Get our troops to the sanctuary doors. We hold the temple. No retreat. No surrender."
The soldier nodded, wide-eyed, and ran.
Jvermy turned again, watching the red flare fade.
"…so it begins."
Human rifle squads began advancing from the forest edges, still out of range.
Officers screamed orders. Engineers shouted target adjustments. Rifles were positioned along ridges to fire on anyone fleeing the city.
And behind it all, the mortars and artillery kept singing.
BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.
And as the city shook, a voice echoed among the human ranks.
Low at first. Then louder.
A single soldier shouted:"UND DER CHOR SINGT—!"
And the others answered:"UND DER CHOR SINGT!"
Their boots pounded. Their hearts beat like drums.