The city pulsed with urgency. Royal capital flags whipped across a blood-colored sunset, the air filled with tension and the distant acrid scent of steel on sharpened blades. The news of the oncoming waves of monsters had carried rapidly, and the entire city was bristling with readiness. Soldiers, mercenaries, and hunters roamed the streets, their faces set in determination and worry. The council had demanded the mobilization of all able forces, and the city responded.
Leading the charge was the Demon Crown Prince, Draevor, a man whose presence inspired compliance. His red eyes surveyed the expanding lines, his presence exuding authority. A battalion of crack troops—specifically handpicked for this emergency—stood at attention before him, ten men to the squad, each squad an eye to the diversity: demon, elf, dwarf, Beastmen, and Royal Academy cadets. Draevor's plan was obvious: strength and diversity, mixing raw brawn, magic, quickness, and strategy.
He waved his hand, and the initial squads formed platoons of five men to a party, creating a grid of fifty men to a unit, every platoon able to move independently but smoothly in coordination with others. Every squad had a specific leader, but they all answered to Draevor personally. His handpicked leaders were seasoned warriors, each of them an S-rank warrior in their own right.
From the initial platoon: Ravok (lion tribe Beastman), intimidating and unafraid, led a demon cadet, two elven cadets, a dwarf, and a magic student from the academy. His bellow sliced through the clamor, a promise that this squad would attack with venom and coordination. Tayra (white tiger Beastman) headed the second platoon, swift, crafty, and accurate. Her team moved as one entity, daggers flashing and magic weaving in concert. Zerath (demon cadet) led the third, fire magic adding to the tactical acumen of his elf and dwarf troops, while Lyraen (elven cadet) led the fourth, with agility, bow skills, and elemental assistance to deadly effect. Borin (dwarf cadet) commanded the fifth, unyielding and unmoving, tempering the raw ferocity of demons and the elven finesse.
Each platoon of cadets was structured similarly. Draevor had directly arranged the pairing: no platoon lacked balance, each crafted to augment strengths and compensate for weaknesses. Elves contributed scouting and ranged magic, demons added raw destructive capability, dwarves bore defense and siege capacity, Beastmen contributed speed and ambush capacity, and academy cadets contributed adaptive support magic.
Previous-weeks training had proven its value. Cadets performed in formation with perfection, each motion smooth, accurate, and measured. Draevor stepped through their line, studying intently, sometimes making adjustments to a stance or making a gesturing motion to realign magic. While his training was merciless, his present attitude was a stark contrast—relaxed, authoritative, nearly paternal in supervision, but with an underlying quality that reminded everyone failure was not an option.
The mercenaries and monster hunters added more diversity. Weathered veterans of the north plains, elven archers of the highlands, mountain dwarves, and even a handful of Beastman mercenaries who were used to surviving in the wild fit right in. Each one of them had one assigned officer whom they reported to and who coordinated with Draevor's cadet commanders to maintain chain of command.
As the night grew darker, Draevor ordered one last check. He made each of the cadet squads perform their tactical coordination: ambush drills, coordination of magic, close-quarters fighting, and defensive formation. Fire arcs blazed through training grounds, steel rang out, and elemental magic flowed in patterns practiced thousands of times during training. Draevor's piercing gaze saw everything; one misplaced step, one hesitation, or one misplaced formation earned his piercing glare, and immediate correction was issued.
Kael and the Eclipse Vanguard watched from the back. He noticed the cadets' progression—their coordination, confidence, and unyielding discipline were palpable. The platoons shifted almost reflexively, as if each could sense what the others would do next. Kael's Divine Copy fluttered weakly as he examined the coordination, mentally noting methods for possible replication. The young warriors he trained with were now developing into leaders in their own right.
Draevor only raised a hand to stop the drills. The flickering firelight danced across his stern face, but his voice held power that curbed all the murmurs. "This is merely the start. The monster waves are enormous—2,647 A-rank, 6,524 B-rank, and 54 S-rank monsters will invade the city within eighteen days. Each and every one of you needs to be ready. These platoons, these squads, these fighters are the spine of the capital. Fail, and the city crumbles."
The cadets stood tall, holding their blades tightly, their eyes burning. The training, the harsh lessons from Draevor, the camaraderie born in campfires and sparring halls—all of it had come to this. Every mixed-race group represented not only power, but unity throughout the kingdom, a blending of culture, power, and loyalty.
As evening fully enveloped the city, Kael walked toward Draevor's formation. The Prince turned, scarlet eyes relaxing somewhat at sight of the Eclipse Vanguard. "They are prepared," Kael spoke softly, scanning the squads. "Each and every one of them." Draevor nodded his head, a subtle confirmation of Kael's words, but his eyes held threat that the real tests lay ahead.
The platoons and cadets, though weary, now carried the appearance of legends being born. Every soldier, from demon to elf to dwarf, Beastman, or academy student, realized the burden of duty. Draevor's leadership, their mixed-race bond, and the impending danger of extinction had tempered not only warriors, but a legion that could stand against the darkness as one.
Kael balled his hands into fists, the rush of determination in his heart. The Eclipse Vanguard had trained them, fought for them, and now they were part of something more—a living, breathing force ready to guard the capital, their families, and the hundreds of lives left on their shoulders.
The walls of the city shone in moonlight, a promise unspoken: when the waves of the monster came, this army would not falter. And Kael knew, in his very soul, that these bonds they made would be their greatest weapon.