When the light faded, Alaric staggered forward, boots crunching against rough stone. Around him, the air felt thinner, crisper—filled with the scent of damp earth, wild grass, and distant pines. The hundred warriors blinked against the sudden quiet, their formation tightening instinctively as their surroundings settled into focus.
Above them, soaring mountains pierced the night sky, their jagged peaks shrouded in drifting clouds. Strange pillars and towering, loomed like silent guardians—stone spires reaching toward the heavens, their ancient surfaces etched by time and mist.
The sky stretched vast and endless, painted in deep indigo and violet hues, the stars scattered like broken shards of crystal. The moon hung low and enormous, a pale disk that seemed impossibly close, casting a gentle silver glow over the alien landscape.
To their left, a narrow road wound between the cliffs, its ancient pavement slick with moisture. Faint, dim lights flickered in the distance—small lantern posts swaying gently in the wind, casting halos of golden light that barely cut through the midnight veil. Strange buzzing sounds drifted in the air, far different from the battlefield's clamor, yet equally alive.
Alaric gripped the ancient spear tighter, his silver hair catching the moonlight as he surveyed the towering monoliths. His heart pounded—not from fear, but from the overwhelming realization.
This land was untouched by the wars of their world, but it whispered its own secrets through the wind and stone.
Behind him, the warriors adjusted their grips on spear and shield, eyes narrowing as they took in the unfamiliar horizon. No raging demon armies. No collapsing spires. Only quiet mountains, drifting clouds, and a strange world waiting in the shadows.
His fingers drifted instinctively to the ancient book strapped at his side. Its surface, once heavy with age, now pulsed faintly, threads of lingering magic coiling through its leather bindings.
With a cautious glance, Alaric unfastened the strap and raised the book before him. The runes shimmered—and in a quiet, fluid motion, the tome shrank, collapsing into itself until it fit snugly within his palm. His breath caught, a flicker of unease crossing his features. Books did not simply change their form… unless bound by deeper, older powers.
"Strange," he muttered under his breath, clutching the book a moment longer. The weight felt different now—not just lighter in hand, but heavier in purpose, like a quiet promise of things yet to come. He slipped it into the inner fold of his robe, hiding it close.
His grip tightened around his spear as his voice regained its steel.
The captain beside Alaric broke the silence, his voice low and uneasy. "Where… are we, my lord?"
Alaric's gaze rose to the towering peaks, the moon reflecting in his sharp, determined eyes. "A place unknown… but we stand together. And wherever the moon shines, we endure."
Before Alaric could take another step forward, the faint buzzing in the air grew into a guttural roar low at first, then rising sharply, accompanied by flickering lights that danced along the twisting road to their left.
The warriors turned sharply, muscles tensing, grips tightening around spear shafts. Instinctively stepped into defensive positions, their gazes sharp and alert.
From around the bend, a gleaming black beast of metal surged forward, twin beams of bright white light piercing through the night like the eyes of some strange born predator. The sound was like thunder trapped inside a hollow shell, rumbling louder as it sped toward them.
Without slowing, the car's horn blared, an ugly, grating wail that echoed across the mountains and cut through the party silence. As it neared, a window rolled down, and an irritated man's voice barked from inside, laced with frustration :
"Idiots! Move out of the way!"
In a blur of speed, the car roared past, spraying bits of gravel and swirling dust into the cool mountain air, the red glow of its rear lights vanishing into the distance, swallowed by the winding road.
The party stood frozen, momentarily stunned.
One of the younger warriors jolted backward, his hand clutching the hilt of his sword as though ready to defend against a charging beast. Another gaped, confusion written across his features.
Alaric remained still, his silver hair rustling faintly in the breeze, his expression caught between caution and curiosity. His sharp gaze followed the retreating machine, eyes narrowing slightly.
Behind him, his captain muttered under his breath, bewildered. "What in the cursed stars… was that?"
Alaric's jaw tightened as he lowered the tip of his spear. "A creature… no," he corrected himself, "a construct… perhaps part of the world's magic."
His lips pressed into a thin line as he surveyed the dark road. "Whatever it is," Alaric said quietly, "it seems the people of this land are unbothered by steel or warriors… and we have much to learn."
Behind him, the company stood silent, gazes fixed on the road, the night wind tugging at their cloaks, the distant engine's echo fading into the shadows of a world far removed from their own.
Moments after the strange metal beast vanished into the distance, the faint sounds of footsteps and hushed voices reached their ears. From the dimly lit road, a group of villagers cautiously approached, clutching small flashlights and the occasional farming tool—more curiosity than aggression in their wary steps.
An older adult led them, his posture hunched but his eyes sharp beneath heavy brows. A few younger men followed, speaking rapidly in a tongue none of Alaric's company recognized.
The villagers stopped several paces away, squinting at the sight of a hundred armored figures, a hundred warriors, arrayed in unbroken ranks, their silver armor burning cold beneath the moon. The polished steel drank in the lunar glow, casting sharp, shifting reflections like blades of light upon the earth. Ancient runes carved along breastplates and shields pulsed with quiet power, each line alive with forgotten magic. Every subtle movement sent piercing flashes across the stones, transforming the warriors into an unyielding phalanx of light and steel—silent, watchful, and utterly immovable.
At their head stood Alaric, his presence sharper than any blade. He was cloaked in royal robes of deep midnight blue, embroidered with intricate silver threads that shimmered softly under the moonlight, echoing the gleam of his soldiers. His silver hair flowed freely over his shoulders, catching the pale light like woven strands of starlight, while his eyes remained steady and unblinking—cold, focused, and unshakable. With every breath, he carried the quiet authority of kings and conquerors, a figure carved from moonlight.
One of the young men stepped forward, gesturing broadly and babbling—his tone rising, becoming sharper. His finger pointed at the warriors, then at the road, then back again, his expression increasingly frustrated.
Alaric raised a hand to still his men, tilting his head slightly. He could feel the tension crackling behind him as swords shifted in their sheaths. The language was strange, but the meaning was becoming clear—this man was… scolding them?
The villagers pointed toward the side of the road, then to their motorbikes, parked a little way off, engines still cooling. A second younger man spoke with exaggerated hand motions, mimicking a long, straight movement down the road and motioning them aside.
The captain leaned close to Alaric, eyes narrowing. "Are they… demanding our retreat, my lord?"
Another voice from among the soldiers whispered in disbelief,
"Do they… not see the royal crest? The Selvaris bloodline before them?"
Alaric's brow twitched, his pride bristling—but then his gaze swept over the older man's weathered hands, the villagers' simple clothes, the tools made for fields, not war.
"They do not know us". The younger man continued waving impatiently, then boldly stepped closer, muttering something sharp as though chastising a group of lost children.
Alaric's lips pressed into a thin, tight smile, realizing the truth. "They believe we are… blocking their path."
His captain looked stunned. "Do they not recognize warriors? Are they blind to steel and discipline?"
Alaric exhaled slowly, lowering his spear and stepping aside. "No… they recognize something far stronger." His tone grew wry. "Local law."
A quiet ripple of laughter moved through the villagers as they watched the strange armored group shuffle off the road, clanking softly in their polished gear. The younger men nodded curtly—whether in respect or smugness, none could tell—and soon after, their motorbikes roared to life, speeding down the mountain pass without a second glance.
Behind them, the hundred warriors stood in bewildered silence. The captain's face twitched.
"My lord… I fear we have entered a land where steel means little, and rank even less."
Alaric sighed, looking out across the unfamiliar cliffs and distant lights.
"Then we adapt… or we starve. Lesson one—these roads bow to the boldest voice, not the sharpest blade "
No sooner had the villagers disappeared down the winding road, their laughter and engines fading into the distance, when another burst of light tore through the darkness—smaller, but no less fierce.
A low, mechanical roar echoed through the cliffs as a second metallic beast sped toward them from the opposite direction, its bright eyes slicing through the mist. This time, it did not thunder past. It slowed, then jerked to a halt directly in front of the assembled warriors, tires skidding slightly on the damp stone.
Atop the beast, seated in a strange garb that wrapped tightly around her body, was a young woman, her expression shifting from irritation to amused curiosity.
She removed the strange glass visor from her head, revealing sharp, bemused eyes that blinked at the sight of a hundred armored soldiers in formation, their polished shields glinting under the pale moonlight.
She crossed her arms lazily and called out in clear, clipped words: "What are you doing out here at this hour—cosplaying? Filming a movie or something?"
The words were foreign, but her tone held the unmistakable ring of challenge.
The company, sensing a sudden shift, reacted instantly. Shields rose, spears lowered, the sound of steel rang through the night as they shifted into a tight defensive circle, faces hardening like carved stone. The wind stirred their cloaks, their eyes locked on this lone warrior astride her metallic mount.
But the woman… she burst out laughing, her voice carefree, echoing between the towering cliffs. She leaned casually against the handlebars of her motorbike, shaking her head.
"Okay, I've seen some weird stuff on these roads, but this? You guys are committed—great performance." She waved a hand dismissively, chuckling. "Let me guess… another traveling theater group out here roaming the mountains? Or maybe some lunatic club trying to go viral?"
At the center, Alaric stood tall for his age, spear planted firmly in the earth. Though only fifteen, his posture carried the discipline of one raised among war councils and royal courts. His silver hair caught the moonlight, his sharp jawline already defined, though his features still bore the subtle softness of youth.
His voice rang out in the ancient dialect of the Selvaris Empire, formal and commanding beyond his years:
"We are warriors of the Selvaris Empire! We seek safe passage through these lands and ask to know whose domain this is!"
Li Mei blinked in disbelief. Her brows lifted high as she took in the strange scene—an army of armored warriors in the dead of night, and at their front, a silver-haired boy who looked like he'd just walked out of a fantasy novel cover.
She dismounted with a grin tugging at her lips, stepping forward leisurely, one hand resting on her hip as she eyed the young leader with amused scrutiny.
"Oh… this is precious," she said in rapid Chinese, voice laced with amusement. "A whole army following a pretty prince who hasn't even grown into his boots yet."
Alaric stood proud, not understanding her words, but Li Mei's half-laughing tone, her easy confidence, tugged at his pride.