"Humanity... you've gone too far."
The eight Guardians looked at the Supreme One with worried eyes and knelt. They wore white suits with black collars, and each carried a frost blade rapier.
"Supreme One, is humanity truly beyond saving?" one of the guardians asked.
For centuries, the Supreme One and the Guardians had witnessed humanity's kindness, compassion, and cruelty against other beings, and even among themselves. Humanity's emotions hadn't just caused worldly disturbances; they rippled across the fabric of the supernatural world. These intense feelings birthed supernatural beings worldwide, igniting an unseen war between good and evil.
Few mortals were gifted with the sight to perceive both the mortal and supernatural realms. Many ignored these gifts, dismissing them as psychological illnesses, mere illusions, or hallucinations. Yet, bound by faith and the belief that these were not just products of the mind, these blessed individuals came together and founded the Holy Order.
Crusades were launched to fight these supernatural beings, but they were extinguished by enemies humanity had unknowingly created. These entities, though existing on a separate plane of reality, could be seen by the gifted. Powerful entities could cross between the mortal realm and vanish back into the supernatural.
They aided evildoers in heinous acts, offering gifts in exchange for souls or sacrifices. Throughout generations, these evil entities learned that to survive and hide from the Holy Order, they needed to act like normal humans and conceal their identities until it was time to strike.
Fueled by humanity's unending emotions, they grew in power. One by one, they hunted down gifted individuals, killing them and hiding their victims under the guise of ordinary crimes. Slowly, the Holy Order lost the capacity to maintain its large numbers to combat the growing threat.
One fateful night, the Cathedral of the Holy Order itself came under attack by a vast number of powerful entities. The Knights of the Cathedral fought valiantly and courageously with nothing but sword, shield, and their faith. But the enemy was far greater in numbers and strength.
As the last Holy Knight fell, the Guardians descended. They had sworn neutrality from conflicts involving humanity, but these before them were no humans. The eight Guardians each represented a piece of the chessboard.
The 2 Rooks, strong and mighty, materialized on the Cathedral grounds. Like ancient statues given life, they moved with unwavering grace, their frost blades carving a path through the monstrous horde. Walls of ice erupted between the remaining Knights and the onslaught, buying precious time for survivors to retreat into the cathedral's safety. They were the castles, the protectors, the watchers, and the shields, symbolizing unwavering loyalty and trustworthiness.
The 2 Knights, fast and cunning, attacked with unpredictable speed and efficiency, riding on the back of their frost equus (horses). Their hit-and-run tactics confused the enemies' striking patterns. They were the destabilizers and saviors, symbolizing that even against impossible odds, a path to bypass obstacles could be found, turning uncertainties into opportunities.
The 2 Bishops, focused, deceiving, and guarding, struck with precision, targeting the most powerful entities that served as commanding units among the horde. Their barrage of fireballs and ice daggers created a thick mist that the 2 Knights used as additional cover. Their straight and focused line of sight and thinking guarded weak spots and used chaos to their advantage, hiding in plain sight, overlooked as harmless until it was time to strike. They symbolized focus and patience, waiting for the moment to inflict a game-changing blow when least expected.
The Queen, serene yet powerful, surveyed the battlefield with an unnervingly calm gaze. Her movements were deliberate, each decision calculated to maximize the Guardians' advantage. She wasn't a warrior like the Knights or Rooks, but her strategic mind was their success's linchpin. With a flick of her wrist, she summoned gusts of wind to disrupt enemy formations and conjured shimmering illusions to deceive and disorient her opponents. Her power was subtle, yet devastatingly effective.
The King, a figure of benevolent authority, moved with decisive grace amidst the chaos. His frost rapier sang a song of righteous fury as he cleaved through the monstrous horde, each strike precise and purposeful. Yet, even in the heat of battle, his demeanor remained calm and resolute, a beacon of hope for the beleaguered Knights. He didn't simply fight; he commanded, his every action a testament to his unwavering resolve and compassionate leadership. His strength was not just physical; it was the strength of a just ruler, defending his people with unwavering courage. He stood at the center of the horde, surrounded but not outmatched.
"You've fought bravely," the King said with power and benevolence, looking at the bodies of the fallen Holy Knights. The air reeked of smoke, blood, and metal. The King sensed hopelessness and abandonment from the dead Knights.
"Behold..." He said, raising his frost sword to the sky.
"Your sacrifices and battles were not in vain nor abandoned." A bright white light began to emit from the King's rapier, and a barrier suddenly descended from the heavens, enveloping the cathedral.
"No foul entities can enter the cathedral as long as this barrier stands. It will serve as a haven for those who will fight evil and swore allegiance to goodness."
A wave of ethereal light pulsed from the other Guardians' rapiers, as if their very weapons were conduits for divine energy. Beams of light relentlessly struck the entities like lightning, burning them in the process.
The other Guardians rallied around the King to prevent any interference as he completed the protective blessing.
But as the barrier neared completion, the Queen felt a powerful wave of negative energy.
"A protective shield facing the east, now!" She ordered the Rooks, who immediately complied. She then reinforced the shields with blessings.
The negative wave slammed into the shields like a massive boulder rolling from a hilltop. The Bishops immediately used their all-seeing eyes to pinpoint the source. Their eyes, burning with arcane light, pierced the swirling smoke and chaos.
"It's a massive entity covered in thick black smoke. It's on top of the mountain," they reported.
With a blur of motion that defied physics, the Knights vanished, reappearing instantly before the monstrous entity. Their frost equus, ethereal steeds of ice and shadow, snorted plumes of freezing mist as they charged, their blades a whirlwind of icy fury.
"They really want to end the Holy Order once and for all," one of the Knights said.
"Let's end this quickly."
They rode head-on into the horde, nothing in their path able to hold or slow them. They had one goal: eliminate the entity attacking the King.
Like a beam of light piercing through clouds, they rode into the heart of the horde, their blades a whirlwind of icy fury, each strike precise and deadly, carving a path through the monstrous entity's defenses. The air crackled with energy as their frost rapiers met the entity's dark power, a deafening roar shaking the very mountain as the Knights carved a hole through its chest and emerged on the opposite side, leaving a trail of frozen destruction in their wake.
As they finished their attack, a voice echoed through the night. It was monstrous, deep, and malevolent. A voice never heard before, something ancient and evil.
"Humanity will continue toward its fall and will succumb into darkness. Their deeds will continue to fuel my legions. And you cannot prevent it from happening. Soon, the war will grow, spanning not just the spiritual realm, but also the mortal realm."
A single, searing image filled their minds: a child's face contorted in a silent scream, amidst a landscape of smoke, fire, and ash, a symbol of all the innocence lost to humanity's endless cycle of violence. Thousands lay dead on the ground, their eyes wide open, staring blankly at the smoke-filled sky, their faces frozen in expressions of terror, pain, and disbelief. Death and decay haunts the wind as the dead stare in silence, a silent testament to humanity's capacity for self-destruction.
The Queen's voice was barely a whisper, choked with emotion. A single tear traced a path down her usually serene face. Her eyes, usually so calm and resolute, were now filled with profound sadness, a deep understanding of the immense suffering that lay ahead.
"So much death, so much suffering..." she murmured, her words heavy with the weight of centuries of witnessed pain.
The voice erupted in laughter, a sound both terrifying and exhilarating, a sound that seemed to physically shake the very ground beneath their feet. A wave of icy wind swept through the battlefield, carrying the stench of decay and the chilling certainty of impending doom.
"Misery, pain, rage, guilt, revenge... all the sins of humanity. How deliciously exciting," it hissed, the words dripping with malevolent glee. "Soon, all will be mine."
The voice faded, leaving only an echoing silence and the chilling certainty that the battle, far from over, had only just begun—a battle not just for the fate of the Holy Order, but for the very soul of humanity itself.
A battle they were destined to lose.