Night fell like ink upon the desert plains.
Banners of fire swayed in the wind.
The thunder of a hundred thousand boots crushed the sand into dust.
From the dark horizon, Arkhor's army advanced — a storm of steel, discipline, and madness.
And at its head rode Varkul Dravonn, the War-Lord of Mortals, his eyes burning with the reflection of Arhaan's star.
> "Tonight," he growled, raising his spear,
"the old world ends.
The throne may have fallen…
but a new one shall rise — by mortal hands!"
Behind him, war drums shook the desert.
Siege towers groaned forward, pulled by iron beasts — ancient relics repurposed from the age of Heaven.
Cannon-wheels forged from meteor iron rolled into place.
The ground trembled.
---
I. THE DEFENDERS OF ESHARA
On the golden walls of Eshara, the High Empress watched from her citadel balcony.
Her armor gleamed under the twin lights of the moon and Arhaan's star.
Beside her stood her generals, mages, and the city's last hope — the Order of the Dawn: warriors trained to fight without divine aid, channeling their strength from sheer will.
"Do you feel it?" one mage whispered.
"The world holds its breath."
The Empress nodded, gripping her curved blade.
"Then let it watch us stand."
---
II. THE FIRST STRIKE
Varkul's hand came down.
A blinding flare erupted from Arkhor's frontlines — Meteorfire Artillery, ancient heavenly weapons twisted for mortal war.
Bolts of molten light screamed across the desert, shattering against Eshara's shields.
The city's protective runes — once gifts of the old Heaven — flickered dangerously.
"Hold the barrier!" shouted the Archmage of Eshara.
Dozens of spellcasters raised staves, chanting, blood trickling from their eyes as they channeled the raw magic of freedom itself.
For the first time in centuries, humans wielded divine force — without permission.
---
III. THE SKY BURNS
Airships roared overhead, mechanical dragons of brass and flame.
From their decks, spell cannons unleashed torrents of energy.
Eshara's defense towers retaliated, launching crystal shards that exploded midair in auroras of color.
Selara watched from the high clouds, her wings folded in sorrow.
"So much death," she whispered.
"Arhaan's gift was freedom… and they use it to slaughter each other."
Kael landed beside her, his armor reflecting the burning sky.
"That's what freedom is," he said grimly.
"The power to choose even the wrong path."
---
IV. THE WARLORD'S ADVANCE
Varkul's forces breached the outer walls.
Siege towers fell, but the tide was unstoppable.
Esharan soldiers fought with fury, chanting the name of their Empress.
Magic and steel collided.
The desert became a furnace of screams and lightning.
Through it all, Varkul moved like a god of war — unstoppable, precise, merciless.
Every swing of his spear broke men and stone alike.
"Witness the strength of mortals unchained!" he roared, tearing through a squad of knights.
His eyes lifted to the star above.
"Do you see, Star-God?
This is your legacy!"
---
V. THE DUEL
The Empress descended from her walls, riding a phoenix of flame.
Her blade glowed with runes that hummed in harmony with Arhaan's light.
She landed before Varkul in the burning sands.
Their armies paused, forming a ring of silence around them.
"War-Lord," she called out.
"Lay down your arms.
No mortal needs a throne anymore."
Varkul laughed, spinning his spear.
"Spoken like one born to comfort.
You call it peace — I call it stagnation."
He lunged.
Steel met flame.
Spear met sword.
The impact split the earth.
Their battle raged like thunder — flame and shadow, law and defiance.
Every clash sent shockwaves across the battlefield.
---
VI. THE STAR INTERVENES
Above them, Arhaan's light flared suddenly.
The world froze — for just a moment.
Every soldier looked up.
Even the War-Lord hesitated.
The star pulsed once… then again.
A wave of warmth spread across the field — not an attack, not divine wrath… but remembrance.
Every soldier saw flashes of their loved ones.
Every mage heard echoes of laughter long gone.
Every killer felt the heartbeat they'd buried under ambition.
Varkul dropped to one knee, panting.
"What… is this?"
The Empress's eyes widened.
"Mercy," she whispered.
"He's reminding us what we fight for."
---
VII. THE AFTERMATH
The battle slowed.
The night grew still.
The armies retreated — not defeated, but disoriented.
Varkul rose slowly, looking at the star with fury and awe.
"You would stay my hand… even now?" he growled.
"You cannot stop what comes next."
He turned, signaling the retreat — but his words carried across the desert like prophecy:
> "If Heaven will not rule… then Earth will.
I will unite this world, even if I must burn it first."
---
VIII. THE QUIET ABOVE
As dawn broke, Kael stood on the edge of Heaven, looking down at the smoke rising from Eshara.
He whispered to the light above him:
"You stopped the slaughter today, brother… but what about tomorrow?"
Arhaan's star shimmered, faint and weary.
Its light dimmed slightly — as if the cost of mercy had taken something from it.
Selara closed her eyes.
"The War of Ambition has only begun."