The dining hall had gone silent.
Just when everyone was remembering old wounds, a messenger stumbled inside, breathing hard.
"Prince Rales… the enemy has conquered Drevath the small allied kingdom at our eastern pass."
Rales froze.
Drevath was small, but it was Valarion's only source of mythril the one metal that kept their blades sharp and their armor strong.
The messenger added, "Their forges and mines are under enemy control… and our trade routes are blocked."
Rales' mind began to move instantly. His eyes sharpened.
He wasn't panicking.
He was calculating.
"Tell me every border report from the last two days," he said. "Scout movements, suspicious caravans, messages from surviving miners, and contact Seraphyne for intelligence. We need the whole picture."
Morix stood beside him, calm and stern.
"Your Highness," Morix said, voice formal as ever, "if Drevath has fallen, then we are next. We must prepare the army immediately."
Rales nodded. "Let's talk strategy."
Planning for War A Genius and A General
Rales and Morix began discussing as if they had done this a hundred times because they had.
Rales broke down possible enemy routes, supply weaknesses, ambush points, escape lines.
Morix filled in with terrain control, troop formation, and counterattacks.
In minutes, the table felt like a war room.
"We cannot underestimate their leader," Rales said. "Mammon is only eighteen and already a Sword Master. Rumors say he's close to becoming a Sword Saint."
Morix's eyes narrowed. "And he bought six more Sword Masters by giving them gold, women, and status. They fight for greed, not honor but their skills are real."
Rales breathed out slowly. "Then we plan carefully."
Who Will Fight Who Valarion's Strength
They placed their warriors like chess pieces:
Morix : strongest Sword Master of Valarion; commander of the main force.
Prince Rales : battlefield strategist; leads reinforcements and cuts enemy supply routes.
Prince Damion : despite everything, a powerful Sword Master; will fight where brute strength is needed (but under supervision).
Captain Theron : Morix's right hand; leads the elite spearmen.
Commander Yul : master archer; handles long-range attacks.
Lady Sera : controls siege engines and elemental weapons.
The Iron Cohort : heavy infantry.
The Night Wardens : scouts and silent killers.
"We break their formation," Rales said, sliding his fingers over the map. "Then destroy their supplies. If Mammon loses momentum, he loses the war."
Morix nodded. "Understood."
Summoning the Army
Morix raised a whistle to his lips and blew.
Not loud.
But sharp enough to cut the air.
Captain Theron appeared almost instantly as if he had been waiting outside.
"General," he said.
"Prepare the army," Morix ordered firmly. "Ready the Iron Cohort. Call in the Night Wardens. Bring out the ancient beasts."
Theron bowed. "At once."
Rales glanced at Morix. "Ancient beasts?"
Morix explained briefly:
Ashgryphs — winged creatures with burning breath.
Stone-Drakes — heavy, armored beasts that crush defenses.
Thunderstags — enormous, lightning-fast mounts used for charges.
"They obey only our strongest soldiers," Morix said.
"Good," Rales replied. "We need every advantage."
The Forbidden Sword
Then Rales looked at Morix with a serious expression.
"Morix… use the ancient longsword."
Morix stiffened. "The King forbade it. That blade is not ordinary."
"It fell from the heavens," Rales reminded him. "No one could lift it except you, when you were a child. That sword belongs in your hands more than in the vault."
Morix hesitated the only time he ever hesitated.
"It is too dangerous," he said quietly.
Rales stepped closer. "Drevath is gone today. Tomorrow Valarion may fall. We can't hold back anymore. Use it."
Morix's breath grew heavy.
A faint crackle moved through the air.
His aura began to rise, swirling like a storm.
Lightning-like sparks flickered in his eyes.
The floor beneath him vibrated slightly, as if reacting to his power.
Morix clenched his fist and the storm settled around him like armor.
Then he looked straight at Rales.
"For war… I am born ready."
The hall shook with the weight of those words.
Rales smiled faintly relieved, proud, ready.
"Then let's inform the King," he said. "We use everything."
Theron rushed out to prepare the troops. Courtyards filled with soldiers, blacksmiths, scouts, and beast handlers. The whole kingdom was waking up to war.
And above it all…
Morix stood like a living storm waiting to be unleashed.
The doors of the royal vault slowly opened with a deep rumble. Inside, shadows moved quickly. Someone lifted the Frost Maiden's armor from its stand, another took the Fairy King's bow, gripping it with trembling hands. The vault, filled with ancient treasures, suddenly felt lighter as if something important had been taken.
Meanwhile, far below the vault, Morix walked down a long stone staircase. Each step felt colder than the last. The deeper he went, the more the air shook with a faint buzzing sound like lightning trapped in a room.
At the end of the stairs was a massive sealed door, carved with glowing runes. Behind it lay the blade no one dared touch.
The Sword of the God of Calamity.
Morix pushed the door open.
A wave of mana rushed out.
The room trembled.
The sword stood in the center, half buried in the floor, crackling with tiny sparks of thunder. Even resting, it looked alive. The air around it twisted like a storm waiting to break.
Morix stared at it and felt his chest tighten.
He remembered the day he touched this sword as a child. He hadn't meant harm he was just curious. But the moment his fingers wrapped around the hilt, he had lost control. Power burst out of him like a wild beast breaking free. Soldiers had been thrown aside. Walls had cracked. Even the King a Sword Saint in his prime had needed everything he had just to stop little Morix.
It had terrified everyone.
Even Morix.
If that was what happened to him as a child…
What would this blade do to him now?
His hands trembled, not with fear of battle Morix feared nothing on a battlefield but fear of himself.
But he also knew the truth:
If he didn't lift this sword, Valarion might fall.
Rales, the King, Lucia… everyone would be in danger.
So Morix stepped forward.
The closer he got, the louder the buzzing grew. Sparks cracked in the air. The room felt too small for the power inside it.
He placed both hands on the hilt.
A shock ran through his whole body.
The floor vibrated beneath his boots.
His heartbeat quickened.
For a moment, he felt the same rage from his childhood that uncontrollable, terrifying force that wanted to destroy everything around him.
He gritted his teeth, steadied his breath, and pulled.
Light exploded.
A blast of wind shook the chamber.
Morix's vision turned completely white.
And then everything went silent.