The sky burned a deep shade of red.
His Royal Majesty Aldric Thorne stood atop the shattered ramparts of his castle, his imperial armor cracked and bleeding from a dozen wounds that would have killed lesser men.
Below him, the capital, his capital, was drowned in an ocean of writhing flesh and broken metals.
The Scourge had come to claim their lives.
"HOLD THE LINE!" His voice cut through the screams like a blade through silk. "HOLD, DAMN YOU!"
Ten thousand soldiers remained. Ten thousand out of the three hundred thousand that had defended these walls at dawn.
Their shields were locked together, their spears thrust forward in mechanical rhythm, but Aldric could see it in their eyes. The despair. They knew this was the end.
A notification flickered at the corner of his vision:
[SYSTEM ALERT: 82% of Earth Players Deceased]
[WARNING: Capital Defense at 12%]
[CRITICAL: Imperial Army Morale — Collapsing]
He dismissed it with a thought. Numbers meant nothing now in the peak of battle. Strategy meant even less. Even his power, Level 487, thirteen levels from the known peak of Dominion Online, meant nothing against the infected tide that crashed against his lands.
"My Emperor!" Duke Valen appeared at his side, his pristine white armor now painted crimson with blood.
Not all of it was enemy blood. The charismatic politician who'd once commanded rooms with words alone now gripped a notched sword with trembling hands. "The eastern wall has fallen. Duke Cassius is trying to—"
BOOOOMMMM!!!
An explosion rocked the fortress. Orange flames bloomed across the plaza where Duke Cassius had positioned his elite economic guard.
The economic mastermind had transformed merchants into soldiers, but even gold couldn't buy victory against extinction.
Aldric's jaw clenched. "Where's Theron?"
"The north gate." Duke Valen's voice cracked. "He's... he's holding them back. But barely."
Of course he was. Duke Theron was a military genius, a battle maniac who would die with a sword in his hand and enemy blood on its edges, painting a canvas that'll be remembered for ages. The man knew no other way but battle.
Aldric should have felt something, grief, perhaps, or rage. Instead, there was only the cold calculation that had built an empire from ashes. The same calculation that now tallied their losses and found them wanting.
He'd made mistakes. So many mistakes on his path to ruling an Empire.
The watchtower shook. Stone tumbled as something massive slammed into its base.
"GET BACK!" Aldric shoved Duke Valen away as the structure buckled.
From the rubble below, something emerged.
A Tainted Lord.
The creature stood fifteen feet tall, a nightmare fusion of bone and blackened steel. Spears of sharpened calcium jutted from its shoulders like the wings of some demonic angel.
Its face, if that ruin of flesh could be called a face, split open to reveal rows of grinding metal canine teeth. Cables and sinew pulsed beneath its armor plating that had once been human ribs.
It wasn't alone though.
Behind it, a swarm of Infected scrambled up the broken walls of the first-line ramparts. Their movements were jerky, unnatural like fulltime drunkards and drug abusers.
Former soldiers and citizens contorted into puppets of meat and machinery. Their eyes glowed with a sickly green light. The bite marks on their necks still bled black ichor.
[TARGET IDENTIFIED: Tainted Lord "Ironbone Ravager"]
[Level: 490]
[Special Trait: Plague Vector — Infection Spread +300%]
"Your Majesty!" Duke Valen screamed.
The Emperor was already moving.
He launched himself from the rampart, his legendary blade, Crimson Star, igniting with flames as red as his empire's banners. The wind whistled past his ears. The Tainted Lord raised one massive arm, bone spears extending like a forest of death.
They met in mid-air.
CLANG!
Metal shrieked against bone. Aldric's sword carved through two spears, the flames cauterizing the wounds before they could regenerate. He twisted, boots finding contact on the creature's shoulder, and drove his blade down toward its skull...
The Tainted Lord caught the sword between its teeth.
Aldric's eyes widened.
The creature's jaws clamped down. Crimson Star, a blade that had split mountains, cracked. Just a hairline fracture, but enough.
"No—"
The Tainted Lord's fist caught him in the chest.
BOOM!
He flew. Twenty feet, thirty, slamming through a stone column that exploded into dust. His health bar dropped to yellow. Pain erupted through his ribs, three broken, maybe four. Blood filled his mouth, hot and copper-sweet.
[WARNING: Health at 34%]
[STATUS: Fractured Ribs x4, Internal Bleeding, Concussion]
He tried to stand but his legs wouldn't cooperate.
Around him, the battle raged on. Duke Valen rallied a squad of soldiers, their spears forming a shield wall against a wave of Infected. They held for a while. Then the wall broke, and screaming filled the air.
Aldric watched Duke Valen disappear beneath a pile of writhing bodies.
"VALEN!" Someone screamed. Maybe him. He couldn't tell anymore.
The Tainted Lord advanced, each step cracking stone. Its jaw still held fragments of his sword. It seemed to smile, a horrible, grinding expression that spoke of hunger without end.
Aldric's hand found his belt for a healing potion. There was one left. A Legendary-grade, worth more than a small kingdom. He'd been saving it.
For what though? There was no tomorrow.
Still, he drank it.
His health bar surged to full. His ribs knitted together with audible pops. Strength flooded back into his limbs, and with it came clarity.
He was going to die here. They were all going to die here. But not yet.
"THERON!" Aldric's voice carried across the battlefield, amplified by skills and sheer imperial will. "CASSIUS! TO ME!"
From the north gate, a figure in blood-soaked armor came sprinting. Duke Theron, the military genius, his face was a mask of fury and determination. His greatsword dragged behind him, leaving a trail of dead Infected in his wake.
From the eastern plaza, Duke Cassius appeared, his merchant's robes replaced by practical leather. He carried no weapon, instead, his hands glowed with the golden light of magic, turning debris into temporary constructs that fought alongside him.
The three Dukes converged on the Emperor.
For a moment, just one perfect moment, they stood together as they had in the beginning. Four men who'd conquered a continent, who'd turned scattered kingdoms into an empire, who'd dared to dream of unity in a world designed for chaos.
"My Emperor," Theron panted, blood dripping from a gash above his eye. "What are your orders?"
Aldric looked at each of them. Duke Valen, climbing from beneath a pile of corpses, his armor rent and his sword shattered. Duke Cassius, his magic flickering as his mana reserves approached empty. Duke Theron, standing tall despite the spear embedded in his shoulder.
They were loyal,brave, his brothers in all but blood.
"We hold," Aldric said simply. He raised his cracked blade high. "We hold until there's nothing left to hold. We hold because humanity can't be wiped out. We hold because surrender is not in our blood."
"WE HOLD!" The cry echoed from ten thousand throats.
The Tainted Lord charged.
Aldric met it head-on.
His blade, even cracked, still burned with imperial fire. He ducked under a swipe that would have decapitated him, rolled left as bone spears erupted from the ground, and drove his sword up into the creature's armpit where the armor plating met flesh.
The Tainted Lord shrieked. Not from pain, they didn't feel pain, but rage at being damaged.
Duke Theron came from the right, his greatsword sweeping low to sever tendons that might have been legs once. Duke Cassius sent his constructs to join the battle. Walls of solidified gold, that slammed into the creature's back, driving it forward into Aldric's waiting blade.
Duke Valen coordinated the remaining soldiers, turning their scattered defense into precision strikes that picked off the Infected swarming around the duel.
For thirty seconds, they were perfect. For thirty seconds, they were the empire's pride made manifest.
Then the Tainted Lord exploded.
BOOM!
Its body burst outward in a shower of bone fragments and metal. Each piece carried the infection, spreading like shrapnel through the ranks.
Soldiers screamed as the fragments embedded in their flesh, green light spreading from the wounds.
Aldric watched in horror as his men, his people, began to change.
"Fall back!" He roared. "FALL BACK TO THE INNER SANCTUM!"
But there was nowhere to fall back to. The inner sanctum was already burning in the flames of war.
A shadow fell across the battlefield. Aldric looked up and felt something he hadn't felt in twelve years of constant warfare.
True fear.
[ALERT: SCOURGE MONARCH DETECTED]
[WARNING: LEGENDARY THREAT LEVEL]
[RECOMMENDATION: EVACUATE IMMEDIATELY]