The sky over Valmair was overcast that morning, as if even the wind sensed the coming threat. Inside the military council hall, the kingdom's banners hung low under a heavy silence, broken only by the voice of General Darius reading an urgent message:
"Enemy forces are moving east toward the borders of Levin village, just fifteen kilometers from the capital. No official banners… the enemy's identity is unknown."
King Aldric sat calmly on his throne, his face stern as the generals exchanged quick glances.
General Rohan spoke firmly:
"Moving this close without declaration is a declaration of war. They are testing our response."
In a corner of the hall, Kilma Kraus stood quietly, his eyes observing every movement and word.
He whispered to a man beside him:
"The situation is more complex than it seems. We must be cautious… and this is only the beginning."
Jyn wasted no time and turned to his grandfather.
"Allow me to move immediately with a scouting battalion. I will lead it myself."
The king nodded, then gestured to three of the top generals:
"You will depart with Generals Darius, Rohan, and Senta. Discover the enemy's intentions… and engage only if necessary."
Jyn strode confidently toward the palace gate, the air carrying the scent of ash—as if the earth whispered a warning no one yet heeded.
Jyn's squad arrived at Levin village at sunset. The dark clouds blanketed the sky, hiding the sun's rays. The place was unnervingly quiet; people vanished into their homes, holding their breath.
Jyn stood with the four generals on a small hill overlooking the village, watching cautiously.
General Darius said anxiously,
"There are no signs of enemy fortifications. No camps, no banners… just an eerie silence."
Rohan replied,
"Maybe this is a trick to confuse us. If the enemy is hiding here, they are masters of deception."
Jyn pondered deeply:
"This is not a real campaign. They want us far away, away from the capital."
The generals exchanged looks, each sensing the danger but none daring to challenge Jyn's judgment.
Kilma Kraus approached the leaders via a message from the palace, watching the situation intently. But in his eyes was a dark secret no one knew.
He said coldly, though hidden behind a faint smile:
"This game is bigger than you think. Keep your eyes open; betrayal may be closer than we imagine."
Jyn smiled slowly, raising his hand to signal the knights:
"We will wait for the enemy's vanguard and reveal their plan before it's too late."
The sky turned pitch black, as if night itself matched the tension of the moment.
After an hour, the scout team Jyn dispatched from the surrounding forests returned with troubling news.
The squad leader, a sharp-eyed young man, reported:
"There is no sign of enemy forces in the village or nearby woods, but there are traces of horses swiftly heading toward the capital."
Jyn sighed and stood before everyone:
"The real enemy wasn't here. This siege was a mere bait to lure our forces."
The generals acted quickly, and Jyn ordered the soldiers to prepare to return immediately to the capital.
But amid the haste and commotion, Kilma Kraus's eyes watched silently, smiling mysteriously, as if awaiting a moment yet to come.
The guard squad quickly marched toward the capital. The sky was painted in dark orange as the hum of arrows and war-drums filled the air—a harbinger of the coming war.
Jyn led the vanguard, his heart heavy with responsibility. He was not just a commander but a symbol of hope that must not be broken.
On the way, an encrypted message arrived from a palace spy:
"Things in the capital are not as they seem. Kilma Kraus moves secretly, and shadowy alliances are forming."
Jyn held the message tightly, feeling his pulse quicken. This was not just an external war but an internal battle threatening to destroy what remained of his kingdom.
He whispered to a nearby general:
"We must prepare for all possibilities. Betrayal is not far, and the enemy may be among us."
Within the royal palace, Kilma Kraus moved with calculated steps, orchestrating a conspiracy that could change history.
The hour of truth approached, and the shadows of betrayal began to cloak Valmair's sky.
When Jyn and the generals reached the siege site, presumed to be the main attack, they found the town nearly deserted. The defensive towers were partially destroyed, with no significant resistance. The suspicious calm kept everyone alert.
General Rock Tanner, scanning the surroundings sharply, said:
"This is no ordinary siege. The enemy never appeared, and the city is deserted… it's a trap."
Jyn frowned, glancing at the increasingly darkening sky.
"Everything here seems prepared to divert our attention far from the capital."
Suddenly, reports came from the palace about strange military movements within the capital itself, along with signs of mobilization by the palace guard under Kilma Kraus's command.
Jyn swallowed hard.
"The real danger is not here. This is a conspiracy… the enemy strikes at home."
He ordered a swift withdrawal and sent urgent messages to the palace warning of the imminent attack.
As they returned, reports of rebellion in parts of the city arrived. The clash of weapons mingled with secret whispers about internal betrayal.
The darkness had lifted the veil on a new chapter of war, where true loyalties were unclear, and danger lurked in every corner.
In the capital's shadows, Kilma Kraus smiled wickedly, watching the chaos he ignited with his masterful schemes.
That night marked the beginning of the fall of betrayal's shadow over Valmair—and no one knew how deep the wound would be.
Jyn and the generals rushed back to the capital, but what awaited was worse than expected. The fortresses protecting Valmair were near collapse, soldiers fighting relentlessly against unknown forces.
While coordinating with guard commanders, reports of clashes within the royal palace halls arrived, as voices of conflict rose among allies themselves.
Kilma Kraus smiled as he spoke with a trusted officer in a low voice:
"The game has truly begun… Valmair will crumble from within before falling from outside."
Amid the chaos, Jyn realized that betrayal was not a threat but a harsh reality to face.
He ordered his forces to secure the palace and protect the king, but his mind was occupied with uncovering who stood behind the conspiracy.
That night, under a clouded sky, the real war ignited—not with swords alone but with caution, suspicion, and fragile trust.
At dawn, Jyn understood his path to restoring Valmair's glory would be more complicated than he imagined, and the shadows looming over the palace might be his greatest threat yet.
At sunrise, the capital Valios bled. Smoke rose from its edges, and the bells hadn't stopped ringing since dawn, warning citizens their city was in danger. Jyn stood atop an inner tower, gazing at the weakening walls and the soldiers trying to defend them with broken spirits.
One of the eastern gates had been breached by an unknown force—not bearing any known kingdom's banner. The enemy's movements were calculated and worrisome, as if they knew every corner, every weakness of the defenses.
Jyn could no longer deny it—this was not only an external war but also an internal betrayal.
Inside the royal hall, where King Aldric coordinated the capital's defense, a guard was pushed in, bleeding. He shouted in a broken voice:
"Commander Kraus… opened the gate from inside… He betrayed us!"
Silence fell like a thunderbolt.
Jyn clenched his fist, his face unmoved, but his eyes burned with fury.
"Kilma Kraus…"
It was an inside betrayal, planned and executed carefully. The siege trap was designed to lure the main forces away and leave the city exposed.
"My father was right when he said some enemies don't raise their swords… they smile while stabbing you in the back."
Jyn turned to the remaining generals:
"We will split up. You hold the walls; I will hunt Kilma myself."
Then he stormed out. No longer a boy chasing victory but a man seeking truth—and a traitor once trusted more than anyone.
Kilma Kraus moved through the shadows, knowing every hidden tunnel and backroad in the city as if it were his own palm. His sudden appearance in the western barracks was just the prelude to something greater… he knew Jyn would follow.
When Jyn reached the square, it was deserted except for scattered bodies—some stabbed in the back, others fallen still clutching weapons. In the center stood Kilma, calmly wiping his sword, as if finishing a personal duty.
"I didn't think you'd come so fast, Jyn…" Kilma said without turning.
"I didn't think you'd stab the homeland in its side…" Jyn replied, standing firm, his gaze locked on the traitor's eyes.
Kilma laughed bitterly:
"The homeland? The homeland died years ago, when corruption choked us and honor became a mask worn by cowards."
"You could have fought to fix it… not sell your city."
Kilma finally turned, his eyes shining with a complicated spark—not regret but dark conviction.
"Some cities can't be fixed, Jyn… they must be burned to be rebuilt from their ashes."
He slowly raised his sword:
"Come, little heir… show me if your fire is truer than my ash."
Jyn stepped forward calmly, holding his plain sword—no ancient glory, only the will of a man unbroken.
"I'm not fighting for you, but for those who believed you stood with them."
Then they clashed, steel meeting between hateful betrayal and unbreakable loyalty.
Kilma was no stranger to Jyn's skills—everyone in Valmair remembered how Jyn won the Honor Tournament five years ago. He was a boy then but stunned everyone, even princes, with his smart fighting and iron heart.
Today, in front of Kilma, he was no longer the victorious boy but something else.
When Kilma struck first, Jyn dodged swiftly and coolly. He used a technique unknown during the tournament:
"Reversed Shoulder Mana" — invented by
He pumped mana into his nerves to accelerate his movements for a brief moment.
He vanished from his place and reappeared behind Kilma, delivering a curved strike toward the neck. Kilma barely blocked it, then stepped back, exhaling sharply.
"Your fighting… is different."
Jyn replied coldly,
"You don't know me yet, Kilma."
The air around them filled with invisible sparks of mana, as if the earth itself was holding its breath.
Kilma attacked fiercely, using fire mana to extend the reach of his long sword, but Jyn didn't move.
With deadly calm, he raised his left hand and pointed his finger toward the incoming sword.
Tannnng!!
He wasn't hit; instead, the sword bounced back, as if Jyn's body was made of solid rock.
He stepped forward.
A thin layer of metal began to appear over his skin—gray, shiny, yet flexible.
"Metal Coating."
A rare skill, mastered by only a few warriors.
But Jyn? He didn't just learn it—he redefined it in his own way. He used it not only to strengthen his defense but to make his attacks more penetrating.
Kilma pursed his lips.
"Even this? How many secrets do you hide, heir?"
"As many as the betrayals you conceal, Kilma."
Jyn charged, each step producing a heavy metallic sound.
He kicked the ground and dashed like a steel-clad arrow, then twisted his body and struck the ground with his foot, creating a metallic whirlwind around him.
"Nerve Hammer!"
Another technique he invented—combining speed, metal coating, and Nerve Flash.
The swords of the guards trembled as they watched the impact hit Kilma directly on his left shoulder, leaving a deep gash in his red armor.
Kilma said calmly,
"We won't leave anything to chance. I will send a special squad to secure the capital and restore order there."
Jyn looked at him intently, feeling a strange emotion he couldn't explain, but there was no time for doubts. He had to trust his generals and prepare for what awaited him in the capital.
Kilma was bleeding. His shoulder shattered, and shock filled his eyes.
"This is impossible… that skill belonged to Aldrin the Great… it died with him!"
Jyn didn't respond.
Instead, he reached for his sword—not Elthan, but another ordinary sword, bearing no glory or fame.
Yet, when coated with metal and ignited with a fiery flash from the heart of his mana, everything changed.
The ground trembled.
The silence shattered.
The sky itself seemed to watch.
"Metal Sword Flash," he whispered, as if reciting an ancient prayer.
"The first king's command… for his heir to restore justice with his own hands."
Kilma tried to retreat but couldn't.
The mana around him rejected movement, as if condemning his betrayal.
Jyn charged.
It wasn't a strike… it was lightning, erupting from a single point, then spreading across the plain.
Craaaaaaack!!!
The metal sword didn't just slice the air; it cut Kilma Kraus from shoulder to waist—cleanly in two. The halves fell to the ground like bodies unworthy even of death.
Blood exploded into the air, flooding the soil with the color of betrayal.
The soldiers fell silent.
Everything stopped.
Jyn stood, his eyes shining, the glow of the metal sword fading slowly like a candle that had finished its message.
"Traitors are not granted the mercy of kings."