(Back to the time when Druvak and Amazel's legions depart.)
Amazel's army marches northeast, bound for Seb-ath's territory. Their first trial is the Forest of Echoing Sorrows, a place where gnarled, black trees grow so close together they blot out the hellish sky, casting the path into a perpetual, choking twilight. An unnatural silence hangs over the woods, broken only by the distant, mournful wails of wandering ghosts and the skittering of unseen things in the undergrowth. Every soldier moves with painstaking caution, knowing the forest's peaceful facade is a lethal lie.
The soldiers advance cautiously, weapons drawn, shields raised.
On a low branch above them, a small, bat-sized monster tears into the corpse of a giant rat. It has a wyrm-like body covered in matted grey fur, with enormous, veiny ears that twitch at every sound, a twitching rat-like snout, and sharp bone spurs jutting from its spine.
Before anyone can react, Elfir flicks his wrist, conjuring a small fireball. The flame strikes true, burning the monster to ash. But as it dies, it unleashes a final, piercing shriek that cuts through the silent woods like a knife.
"SCREEEEEE!!!"
Amazel's head snaps around, her eyes wide with fury. "You fool! What have you done?" she hisses, her voice low and venomous.
Elfir jumps, turning to her with an annoyed scowl. "What!? I just killed a small monster! It was an eyesore."
Her fury doubles. "A monster? That was a chiroswyrm! Alone, they are weak. But in swarms, they've slain jungle tyrants far stronger than you. And that is its death call."
Elfir's face pales, his annoyance evaporating into pure dread. A strange silence covers the forest, but soon this silence breaks.
"SCREEEEE!!! SCREEEEE!!! SCREEEEE!!!"
The sound comes from everywhere at once, a chorus of hellish shrieks. The sky darkens as thousands of chiroswyrms swarm above, blotting out the light.
Amazel raises her wand instantly. "Everyone!Defensive stance! NOW!"
The soldiers close ranks, shields locking together.
The swarm's screeches intensify, drilling into the soldiers' skulls, disorienting them. Men and women clutch their helmets, crying out as the sound induces splitting headaches and a piercing tinnitus.
Amazel's gemmed wand flares. 'Aegis'
A dome of shimmering silence expands outward. The shrieks are dulled to nothing. Soldiers gasp in relief as the shield protects their hearing.
"Hold your ground!" Amazel's voice rings clear inside the dome. "Form groups! Three vanguards to two mages or scouts!"
The dome of energy shimmers around the company, but the relief is short-lived. The seething, living cloud of chiroswyrms descends upon the shield, a relentless wave of claws and teeth. Each impact is small, but collectively, they are a torrent against a dam. Hairline fractures spiderweb across the dome's surface.
Shhhrrk!
The shield shatters. The swarm pours in like a living storm.
"Loose spells!" Amazel commands.
Chaos erupts. A barrage of fireballs, wind blades, and thrown knives meets the swarm. It is like trying to stop a sandstorm. The creatures are viciously clever. Those in front take the spells, their bodies becoming shields for the ranks behind, who then plunge into the soldiers. Vanguards roar, meeting the onslaught with raised shields and sweeping swords, but the creatures are everywhere. Screams and the clash of steel fill the forest.
Amazel's wand gem pulses with light. She raises her wand high. "Crimson Flower!"
A ball of fire shoots skyward and detonates. A gigantic, blazing flower blooms across the heavens, its petals raining flames. The swarm shrieks as fire incinerates hundreds of chiroswyrms.
Julie's sharp eyes catch something strange. The chiroswyrms closest to the explosion squeeze their eyes shut, their flight staggering. "Wait… their weakness…!"
She sprints to Amazel's side, shouting, "General! They're vulnerable to intense light and shockwaves!"
Amazel's eyes widen, then narrow with determination. She fires a flare into the sky. It explodes in a burst of dazzling white light and a thunderous shockwave. Dozens of chiroswyrms panic, slamming into each other midair, blinded.
Amazel seizes the moment. "Mages! Fire bombs and light bombs, now!"
The battlefield erupts. Explosions of fire and light disorient the swarm, forcing them into chaos. Blinded and deafened, the chiroswyrms turn on one another, crashing and clawing wildly. The soldiers strike them down with ruthless efficiency.
When the last creature falls, the forest is once again silent, now carpeted with twitching corpses. Thirty-six soldiers bear minor injuries, but by some miracle, there are no fatalities. The healers move quickly, their hands glowing as they tend to wounds.
Elfir stands panting, his knuckles white around his wand, watching the medics work. The initial, defensive anger he felt at Amazel's rebuke evaporates, replaced by a cold knot of dread in his stomach. He sees a soldier wince as a healer seals a deep wound on her arm—a wound from a creature he summoned.
Amazel turns her fierce gaze to Elfir, who stands amidst the gore, looking utterly shattered. "Elfir. Look around you. This is the cost of your impatience. That 'small monster' nearly got our people killed."
Elfir's eyes sweep over the injured again. He looks away, his jaw tightening. He cannot meet her gaze. After a long, tense silence, his shoulders slump slightly. "...I didn't know," he mutters, the words thick with a mixture of shame and frustration.
"Not knowing is not an excuse for a commander," Amazel states, her tone leaving no room for argument. "You acted without thinking. That cannot happen again. As punishment, you will personally carry the luggage of five injured soldiers and take their place on guard duty for the remainder of this march. Their comfort is your responsibility. Do you understand?"
This time, there is no argument. He gives a single, sharp nod, his eyes still fixed on the ground. "Understood, General."
From the shade of a tree, Julie watches quietly. 'That's all? She's too soft. A general's kindness can be dangerous… weakness on the battlefield is unforgivable.'
Her thoughts are interrupted by a sudden prickle. She turns sharply toward the deeper forest, eyes narrowing.
Sylphy flinches at her movement. "Julie? What is it?"
Julie smiles brightly, masking her unease. "…Nothing. Probably just another small beast." She smiles, but her grip on her dagger tightens. 'Something isn't right. That shadow was definitely not a small creature.'
---
Deep within the forest, three hooded demons sprint silently through the undergrowth.
They stop in a clearing.
"Did she notice us?" one whispers.
The second shakes his head. "No."
The third, their leader, takes out two vials of crimson fluid and gives one to each of them.
"Take it. Today, the plan begins. You two flank them from the sides. I'll strike from the rear."
With synchronised nods, the two assassins melt into the gloom. The leader stands alone for a moment, his unseen gaze fixed in the direction of the army, before he too vanishes without a sound.
---
Meanwhile, in Seb-ath's palace.
In the office, Seb-ath, a giant, raptor-like monster clad in ornate green armour, stands overlooking a map carved into his obsidian table. A knock echoes at the door.
"Enter."
A hooded demon enters and kneels low.
"What news?" Seb-ath asks.
"The Central Land has split its forces," the demon reports. "Five hundred soldiers: three hundred vanguard, one hundred mages, fifty healers, fifty scouts led by the former duchess Amazel. Another five hundred march toward Lord Armaror, led by the former duke Druvak. His force has one hundred fifty cavalry, one hundred archers, and one hundred fifty mages. But no vanguard."
Seb-ath's claws tap against the table. 'Amazel's army formation is classically balanced… but Druvak's army? Strange. Why leave him without a frontline? Is it division, a dispute among them… or some hidden design?'
"What of Dracula and Siscil?"
"No movements within their territories."
Seb-ath's eyes narrow. 'Hmm…if my prediction is correct then the King and the Witch must be moving in secret.'
"Very well," he says aloud. "Summon the Sword Ghost."
The demon bows and departs.
Seb-ath rises and strides to a large chest in the corner of the chamber. He opens it, revealing smaller locked boxes within. He draws one out, opening it carefully.
Inside gleam dozens of crimson pearls, the same pearls that bathed the Central Lands in fire and blood.
*Knock.
Seb-ath closes the chest with a low growl. "Enter."
The air grows cold as a black, spectral form floats in—a wispy spirit with no lower body. Its face is a smooth, featureless grey mask, and in place of arms are two long, cruelly curved swords. This is the Sword Ghost, Seb-ath's right hand.
His androgynous voice cuts through the silence. "You summon me, Lord Seb-ath?"
Seb-ath taps the chest. "This is filled with red pearls. Take them. Our plan begins now."
The spectre bows. Both blade-arms lift slightly, and the chest levitates into the air, following him as he vanishes into the shadows.
Seb-ath returns to his chair, eyes glowing with cold malice. 'Let them march. The forest itself will become their grave.'