The journey back to Sengoku kingdom was swift and silent, each member of the party lost in contemplation of their next move. Through Sengoku's eyes, Nickan watched as the familiar landscape of his kingdom came into view—the sprawling forests giving way to cultivated fields, and finally the gleaming spires of the royal castle rising in the distance.
But something was different. As they approached the castle grounds, two ornate carriages were visible near the main entrance.
Their elegant construction was unmistakable—curved wood polished to a mirror sheen, adorned with intricate silver filigree that caught the sunlight. The emblem of the Elfis Kingdom was emblazoned on their sides: a silver tree against an emerald background.
When Sengoku and his companions descended from the sky, landing gracefully on the courtyard stones, Nickan felt Sengoku's surprise at finding the carriages not empty. From within one carriage, a tall figure emerged. Even from a distance, his elven heritage was unmistakable—high cheekbones, pointed ears, and a fluid grace that made human movement seem clumsy by comparison.
"Elvis, good timing! I was about to see you!" Sengoku called out as they approached. "Anyway, what brings you here?"
The Elf King's face was grave, his ageless features lined with worry that seemed out of place on an elven countenance. "I'll tell you everything, but first promise me you won't tell me to go away after hearing my problem."
Through Sengoku's senses, Nickan felt the Dragon Lord's curiosity piqued. "Of course not, I promise."
Elvis gestured toward the castle. "Perhaps we should speak inside."
Once settled in Sengoku's private council chamber, Elvis related his tale. Nickan experienced Sengoku's growing concern as the Elf King described how his daughter had been traveling to the eastern forests on a diplomatic mission when her escort was ambushed. The few survivors who made it back to Elfis Kingdom spoke of soldiers bearing Yamato's insignia.
"So your daughter, Princess Elora of Elfis Kingdom, is now a captive of Yamato," Sengoku summarized, his voice tight with restraint.
Elvis nodded, his eyes reflecting a hopelessness that seemed foreign in an elven gaze. "That's right."
Nickan, nestled within Sengoku's consciousness, found his thoughts wandering. He had always been fascinated by elves in stories—their ethereal beauty, their connection to nature, their timeless wisdom. What would an elven princess look like? The stories always described them as the most beautiful creatures in existence, with a grace that made even the most elegant human seem clumsy by comparison.
"Don't worry, we'll save her," Sengoku's voice cut through Nickan's musings.
Ron nudged Sengoku in the chest, a silent reminder of political realities. Sengoku cleared his throat and continued, "But such an undertaking would necessitate a formal alliance between our kingdoms. The humans and elves must stand together against Yamato."
Elvis straightened, a spark returning to his eyes. "All are one," he said, invoking the ancient pledge of elven alliance.
"Awesome," Sengoku replied with a nod. "You may rest now. We'll discuss the rescue plan after lunch."
After a servant had shown Elvis to his quarters—one of the finest guest chambers in the eastern wing—Ron pulled Sengoku aside in the corridor.
"Are you sure?" he asked, his voice low but urgent.
Sengoku's confidence was unwavering. "Yes, I'm certain. A lady in trouble needs to be solved. Besides, I've heard that the elf princess is a knocker. Might as well marry her, being her savior."
Ron's face twisted in disbelief. "I can't believe you. You recently lost your wife and child, but you're planning on marrying again?"
"No matter what, the lineage needs to be preserved. You know that, don't you?" Sengoku replied, his tone matter-of-fact.
Ron sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. "That's true."
"As long as you get it, you may also take rest," Sengoku said. "I'll also lie on the bed for rest to refresh my mana."
As Sengoku retired to his chambers, Nickan felt the Dragon Lord's weariness. Using floating magic for extended periods had depleted his reserves, and without replenishment, he would be vulnerable in the coming conflict.
Time passed quickly in the quiet of the castle, and soon it was time for lunch.
The great dining hall was prepared with a feast befitting honored guests. Through Sengoku's senses, Nickan took in the spread: platters of roasted pheasant glazed with honey and herbs, their skin crackling and golden; steaming bowls of dumpling soup with fine slivers of wild mushrooms floating in clear broth; freshly baked bread still warm from the ovens, served with churned butter sprinkled with sea salt; plates of seasonal vegetables prepared in the style of each kingdom—carrots and parsnips roasted with mountain herbs for the humans, delicate salads of rare forest greens dressed with nut oils for the elves; decanters of wine from the southern vineyards, deep crimson for the humans and pale amber for the elves who preferred lighter vintages; and for dessert, tarts filled with berries and sweet cream, alongside crystallized honey candies formed into delicate shapes of animals and flowers.
The meal was eaten with little conversation, each person focused on gathering strength for what lay ahead. When the plates were cleared, Sengoku led the way to the conference room.
The room was dominated by a massive oak table, its surface worn smooth by generations of military councils. Sengoku unrolled a large parchment map of the Elysium continent, securing its corners with small weights. The map was detailed, showing not just the political boundaries of the numerous kingdoms but also topographical features—mountain ranges, rivers, forests, and the great wasteland to the north.
While the continent housed many kingdoms of various races, Sengoku's finger traced the borders of the three human kingdoms that now concerned them. Nickan, through Sengoku's focus, examined the territory controlled by Yamato's forces.
Elvis leaned forward suddenly, his finger stabbing at a location on the map. "This is it! This is where my daughter is held captive. I'm certain of it."
Sengoku studied the area Elvis had indicated. It was the Yangzho Castle, a fortress infamous for its impenetrability.
Built into the side of a mountain, with sheer cliffs protecting three sides and a massive fortified gate on the fourth, it had never fallen to direct assault in its long history.
"We'll do our absolute best. Don't worry," Sengoku said, his tone revealing nothing of the difficulty such a rescue would entail.
Elvis's eyes were pleading. "Please save her. She's my only daughter."
"I know. We'll save her, I swear," Sengoku replied, and Nickan felt the weight of that promise settle in the Dragon Lord's heart.
The strategic discussion was interrupted by hurried footsteps in the corridor. The door burst open, and Hayato, one of Sengoku's most trusted scouts, rushed in. His face was flushed, and he was breathing hard.
"Master, we are under attack! The Hanzo Castle is under attack by Yamato and his forces!" he reported between gasps.
Sengoku's surprise rippled through to Nickan. The old man had made the first move, earlier than anticipated. But as Nickan felt Sengoku process this information, understanding dawned. Hanzo Castle was the gateway to Yangzho Castle. If it fell, they would have no chance of reaching the elf princess without first reconquering Hanzo.
"We need to defend it at any cost. Time to go there," Sengoku declared, already moving toward the door.
Within minutes, Sengoku had activated his floating magic once more. Along with Ron, Enro, and a contingent of elite guards, they soared through the sky toward Hanzo Castle while the rest were on horseback following behind.
Nickan felt Sengoku's concern growing as they approached—columns of black smoke were visible from miles away.
When they arrived, the scene was chaotic. The once-proud fortress was already showing signs of damage—portions of the outer wall had crumbled, and fires burned in several of the watchtowers. Defenders ran along the battlements, launching arrows at the attackers below, but they were clearly outnumbered.
And then Nickan saw them through Sengoku's eyes—the source of the devastation. Massive humanoid creatures surrounded the castle, each standing at least fifteen feet tall.
Their most distinctive feature was the single enormous eye centered in their foreheads, glaring with malevolent intelligence. Their bodies were muscular, their skin a mottled gray-green that blended with the rocky terrain. Some wore crude armor made from animal hides and metal scraps, while others were nearly naked, relying on their tough hide for protection.
These were Cyclopes, fearsome creatures known for their immense strength and violent temperament. In their massive hands, they held boulders the size of wagons, which they hurled at the castle walls with devastating force. Each impact sent tremors through the ground and dislodged more stones from the increasingly fragile defenses.
"F*ck," Sengoku cursed, and Nickan felt the Dragon Lord's anger flare.
Below them, the scene grew more desperate by the moment. Soldiers who had been caught outside the walls were being crushed by the enormous rocks or swatted aside by massive hands. Those who had made it inside were frantically trying to reinforce the gates and repair breaches in the walls, but for every section they shored up, another came under attack.
The human toll was devastating. Through Sengoku's keen vision, Nickan could see bodies lying broken on the battlefield, some still moving weakly while others lay still. Inside the walls, medics rushed between the wounded, applying hasty bandages and carrying the most grievously injured to shelter.
Fear surged through Nickan's consciousness. How could anyone—even the unrivalled Dragon Lord—hope to defeat such monsters? They were nightmare creatures of Elysium continent, their power seemingly unstoppable.
But then, as Sengoku surveyed the battlefield and began formulating his strategy, Nickan felt a shift in his own perception.
Memories of Sengoku's previous battles flooded through his borrowed consciousness—times when the Dragon Lord had faced seemingly insurmountable odds and emerged victorious. His mastery of elemental magic, his strategic brilliance, his unparalleled swordsmanship, and most importantly, his ability to inspire those who fought alongside him.
As Sengoku descended toward the battlefield, Nickan sensed the calm that had replaced his initial anger. The Dragon Lord had faced worse than this and prevailed. The Cyclopes, for all their terrifying strength, were just another obstacle to overcome.
Nickan felt Sengoku's power gathering, a storm building within him ready to be unleashed. The Dragon Lord would not let Hanzo Castle fall. Too much depended on holding this position—the safety of his kingdom, the rescue of the elf princess Elora, and ultimately, the defeat of Yamato himself.
Through eyes that were not his own, Nickan watched as Sengoku drew his legendary sword Estro, its blade catching the sunlight as he prepared to enter the fray. The battle for Hanzo Castle—and perhaps the fate of the entire Elysium continent—was about to begin in earnest.