The day had begun peacefully.
Children laughed.
Merchants bargained.
Travelers crossed the streets.
The city lived as it always had.
Maria walked beside Levanah through the market district, accompanied by Eva, Cyse, and the maid carrying little Yareach in her arms.
Several parcels had already accumulated.
A white dress for Levanah.
Small clothes for Yareach.
Books.
Hair ribbons.
Simple toys.
For the first time in a long while, Maria looked genuinely happy.
Levanah, meanwhile, was overwhelmed.
Every stall seemed fascinating.
Every shop offered something new.
Cyse had taken his self-appointed duty as guide very seriously.
"That bakery sells the best honey bread."
"That blacksmith is famous."
"Don't buy apples from that merchant. He cheats."
Levanah blinked.
"How do you know?"
"My father taught me."
Levanah nodded.
"Good father."
Cyse immediately stood straighter.
"He is."
Maria smiled faintly.
The day was ordinary.
Peaceful.
Safe.
Then reality shattered.
A sound echoed through the sky.
CRACK.
Everyone froze.
Another followed.
CRACK.
Like glass breaking.
But there was no glass.
Only space itself.
The sky twisted.
A massive fracture appeared above the market.
Purple light bled from the wound.
Then came the violet substance.
Thick.
Heavy.
Viscous.
Like blood leaking from reality itself.
The crowd stared.
Nobody understood.
Nobody moved.
Then the rupture widened.
And panic began.
People screamed.
Merchants abandoned their stalls.
Children cried.
Mothers grabbed their sons and daughters.
Fathers shouted warnings.
The entire market dissolved into chaos.
Eva's instincts immediately took over.
"Lady Maria!"
Maria turned.
"We need to leave. Now."
Eva grabbed Maria's wrist.
Without waiting for permission.
Without caring about etiquette.
Only survival mattered.
Cyse reacted just as quickly.
"Levanah!"
He seized her wrist.
"We need to go!"
Levanah stumbled.
"What is happening?"
"I DON'T KNOW!"
The answer was honest.
Nobody knew.
The maid carrying Yareach tightened her grip protectively.
The infant began crying.
The atmosphere itself felt wrong.
Like something ancient was forcing its way into existence.
Then the first creature emerged.
A skeletal wooden arm.
Then another.
Then dozens.
Wooden corpses crawled from the rupture.
Their bodies twisted.
Branches grew through flesh.
Roots replaced veins.
Their eyes glowed with sickly violet light.
The creatures fell from the fracture like rain.
One.
Ten.
Fifty.
Hundreds.
The city guards immediately sounded alarms.
Bells rang throughout the streets.
Warning horns echoed.
The market erupted into complete terror.
And then—
The Beast stepped through.
The Thorned Sovereign stood like a nightmare carved from the oldest horrors of the wild. Towering and broad-shouldered, his body was a monument of raw power — thick, corded muscle shifting beneath pale, battle-scarred skin adorned with streaks of dried blood-red paint that traced ancient, savage runes across his chest and shoulders. A heavy, matted fur mantle clung to his frame, its edges frayed and dark with age and old blood.
Where a face should have been, there was only brutality: two massive, rusted metal axes brutally nailed directly into his head, their wide blades overlapping to completely cover his face like a grotesque iron mask. The axes were old and pitted with corrosion, their edges still cruelly sharp, driven deep into the flesh and bone with heavy iron nails protruding at odd angles. From the top of this horrific visage sprouted a wild crown of gnarled, branching antlers that twisted upward like dead trees clawing at the sky.
Long, tangled strands of dark hair mixed with bark and dried moss fell around the axes. His neck and jaw were barely visible beneath the horror, scarred and thick. In his right hand he gripped a colossal sword carved from petrified wood, its blade lined with vicious, living thorns that seemed to twitch with malevolent hunger.
His left hand hung at his side, fingers ending in claw-like nails. Leather and bone bracers bound his forearms, and around his waist hung fetishes of bone and ritualistic charms. Tattered remnants of dark cloth and fur served as his only clothing, leaving much of his powerful, scarred form exposed to the elements.
He was no longer merely a ruler of the dead woods. With those axes forever nailed into his face, he had become something far worse — a walking atrocity, a being of unrelenting pain and primal vengeance given terrible form.
Silence fell.
Not because people wanted silence.
But because terror had stolen their voices.
The creature's mere presence crushed courage.
Some citizens collapsed.
Others could barely breathe.
Many simply stood frozen.
The beast slowly turned its head.
Searching.
Sensing.
Looking for something.
Or someone.
Then it took a step.
BOOM.
The ground cracked beneath its foot.
Another.
BOOM.
A market stall exploded into splinters.
A third.
BOOM.
An entire stone fountain shattered.
People began screaming again.
Running.
Falling.
Trampling each other.
The wooden undead followed.
Their clawed limbs seized fleeing civilians.
The city transformed into a nightmare.
"RUN!" Eva shouted.
Maria obeyed immediately.
Cyse dragged Levanah through the crowd.
The maid carrying Yareach nearly lost her footing as people pushed past her.
Yet somehow she never loosened her hold on the child.
Not once.
Not even for a second.
Then—
The Thorned Sovereign stopped.
Its body became still.
Its head slowly turned.
Toward the manor.
Toward the hill overlooking the city.
Toward Bereshith.
Though nobody present knew it.
The creature had felt something.
A presence.
A light.
The same disturbance that had terrified demons and ancient evils.
The same light that had awakened sleeping horrors.
The beast raised its colossal thorn-covered sword.
And pointed.
Directly toward the manor.
The city suddenly realized something horrifying.
This was not a random attack.
The creature had come for something.
Or someone.
And whatever it sought—
It was inside the city.
Far away, within the manor's training grounds, Lucas abruptly stopped speaking.
Bereshith looked up.
"Mister?"
Lucas' eyes narrowed.
Every instinct he possessed screamed danger.
The wind had changed.
The air felt wrong.
The birds had vanished.
And somewhere beyond the manor walls—
Something powerful had arrived.
Something ancient.
Something hostile.
Lucas slowly rose to his feet.
His hand tightened around the wooden training sword.
For the first time all day—
The blessing of Michael stirred within him.
Like a sleeping lion opening its eyes.
And far above the city—
The Thorned Sovereign began walking.
Toward the manor.
Toward the child chosen by God.
Toward the beginning of a war no mortal yet understood.
The Thorned Sovereign stood amidst ruin.
Around him, the city burned.
Wooden undead creatures poured through the streets like a plague. They smashed doors from their hinges, tore through market stalls, overturned wagons, and spread panic wherever they wandered.
People fled in every direction.
Some carried children.
Others carried the wounded.
Many carried nothing but fear.
The city guards attempted to form defensive lines, but the creatures were relentless.
One soldier thrust his spear through the chest of a wooden undead.
The creature did not stop.
It simply grabbed the spear, snapped it in half, and dragged the screaming soldier into the swarm.
Blood painted the cobblestones.
Smoke rose into the sky.
The peaceful day had become a nightmare.
Within the manor grounds, Lucas heard the distant screams.
Then the bells.
Then the sound of fighting.
His expression hardened instantly.
The training was over.
Reality had arrived.
He turned toward Bereshith.
"Listen carefully."
Bereshith immediately stood straight.
"Yes, Mister Lucas."
"Go to your sister."
Lucas pointed toward the manor.
"Find Levanah. Find Yareach. Stay together and hide."
Bereshith looked toward the city.
The smoke was visible even from here.
"What about you?"
Lucas answered without hesitation.
"I'll deal with what's outside."
The boy opened his mouth.
Then closed it.
For once, he did not argue.
He simply nodded.
"Understood."
Then he ran.
Meanwhile, the carriage had finally reached the manor gates.
The moment it stopped, everyone immediately noticed the smoke rising from the city.
"What happened?" Maria asked.
Before anyone could answer, Bereshith came running toward them.
"Levanah!"
The young girl looked up.
"Bereshith!"
The boy immediately reached the carriage.
The maid carrying Yareach barely had time to react before Bereshith carefully took his little sister into his arms.
Yareach blinked sleepily.
Completely unaware of the disaster unfolding.
"Mister Lucas said we have to hide."
His voice was calm.
Far calmer than a child his age should have been.
"Everyone stay together."
Eva immediately understood.
Something terrible was happening.
Maria looked toward the city again.
The smoke was growing thicker.
Then came distant screams.
Her face turned pale.
Lucas sprinted toward the manor armory.
Inside were weapons of every kind.
Spears.
Axes.
Halberds.
Crossbows.
Armor.
Lucas ignored almost all of them.
He had no time.
No need.
His hand reached for a simple iron sword.
Nothing fancy.
Nothing noble.
Just steel.
Just a weapon.
He tested its weight.
Satisfied.
Then left immediately.
The stable master barely had time to greet him.
Lucas entered.
Mounted the first warhorse available.
And rode.
The gates opened.
The horse surged forward.
Behind him came the city's soldiers.
Knights.
Guards.
Men-at-arms.
All rushing toward the disaster.
Yet even among them, Lucas rode ahead.
The blessing of Michael stirred quietly within him.
Not visible.
Not yet.
But present.
Watching.
Waiting.
The city looked far worse up close.
Bodies lay across the streets.
Men.
Women.
Children.
Old and young.
The dead did not discriminate.
A house collapsed nearby.
Screams echoed from beneath the rubble.
A burning cart rolled down a hill.
Wooden undead creatures prowled through the streets searching for survivors.
The smell of blood hung heavily in the air.
Lucas slowed his horse.
His jaw tightened.
His grip on the sword hardened.
Disgust.
Horror.
Anger.
Not fear.
Never fear.
A knight who feared death could not protect the living.
Then silence fell.
The strange kind.
The kind that came before something terrible.
A shadow emerged from an alley.
Heavy footsteps echoed.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
The Thorned Sovereign stepped into view.
His petrified sword dripped blood.
Fresh blood.
The corpses nearby revealed whose.
The monster slowly approached.
Unhurried.
Almost thoughtful.
Then it spoke.
"DeAd..."
Its voice sounded like rotting wood grinding against stone.
"So MaNy."
Another step.
"PuNiSHeD."
Another.
"EvERyOne."
Its massive axes shifted slightly as it tilted its head.
Studying the human before it.
Lucas stared back.
Then slowly unsheathed his sword.
Steel rang against the air.
The soldiers behind him hesitated.
Many could barely move.
The monster's presence alone crushed their courage.
But Lucas stepped forward.
Alone.
And answered.
"Likewise."
The Thorned Sovereign stopped.
Silence followed.
Then Lucas pointed his sword toward the monster.
"The children."
His voice was cold.
"The women."
His grip tightened.
"The innocent."
His horse stamped the ground.
"You punished them all."
The monster stood motionless.
Its antlers swayed gently.
As though listening.
Lucas continued.
"You call this justice?"
The Thorned Sovereign slowly raised its sword.
"HuMaNs..."
The creature's voice deepened.
"HUrT."
A pause.
"HuMaNs."
Another.
"BuRn."
Another.
"HuMaNs."
The monster's sword pointed toward the city.
"LiE."
Lucas answered immediately.
"You're right."
The creature paused.
The soldiers behind Lucas froze.
Nobody expected that answer.
"Humans lie."
Lucas nodded.
"Humans kill."
Another nod.
"Humans steal."
Another.
"Humans commit atrocities."
His gaze sharpened.
"But so do monsters."
The Thorned Sovereign became still.
Lucas raised his sword.
"Every innocent you murdered today."
The wind shifted.
"Every child."
The blessing of Michael began glowing faintly beneath his skin.
"Every mother."
The air around him became warmer.
"Every father."
Golden light slowly appeared in his eyes.
The soldiers behind him stared.
"What gives you the right?"
The Thorned Sovereign tightened its grip on its sword.
The creature finally sensed it.
The blessing.
The light.
The power granted by the Creator.
For the first time since arriving—
The monster stopped looking at Lucas as prey.
And started looking at him as an enemy.
The sky darkened overhead.
The city burned around them.
The soldiers backed away.
Instinctively.
Neither warrior noticed.
Or cared.
A knight blessed by the Creator.
A sovereign forged by ancient hatred.
Standing amidst a ruined city.
Preparing for war.
And then—
Lucas charged.
Lucas drew his iron sword.
The metallic hiss cut through the noise.
"Move."
The soldiers nearby looked at him.
"What?"
Lucas never took his eyes off the monster.
"I said move."
The authority in his voice made them obey immediately.
The soldiers retreated.
Lucas stepped forward.
Alone.
The Thorned Sovereign stared back.
Neither moved.
Then—
The first monster attacked.
A wooden creature dropped from a rooftop.
Its arm transformed into a jagged thorn blade aimed directly at Lucas's neck.
Too slow.
Lucas shifted half a step.
The blade missed.
His sword flashed upward.
SCHHK.
The monster's body split diagonally.
It hit the ground in two pieces.
Before it could finish falling—
Three more attacked.
One from the left.
One from the right.
One from behind.
Lucas didn't even turn.
Years of battlefield instinct guided him.
His feet pivoted.
The first blade missed.
He grabbed the second creature's wrist.
Twisted.
SNAP.
The wooden limb shattered.
Then Lucas used the creature itself as a shield.
The third monster's thorn spear pierced straight through its ally.
Before it could react—
Lucas drove his sword through both.
CRACK.
Wood exploded.
Both creatures fell.
The city guards stared.
They had barely seen him move.
Then the horde arrived.
Dozens.
Hundreds.
Every alley.
Every rooftop.
Every broken building.
Monsters emerged.
The Thorned Sovereign remained motionless.
Watching.
Testing.
Lucas understood immediately.
The monster was measuring him.
Fine.
Let it watch.
The first wave charged.
Lucas charged too.
A true knight never waited for death.
He met it halfway.
The collision was brutal.
His sword became silver lightning.
Every movement was precise.
No wasted motion.
No unnecessary strength.
Every strike killed.
A thrust through the eye.
A slash across the neck.
A downward cut splitting a creature from skull to waist.
One after another.
The monsters fell.
Yet they kept coming.
A vine shot toward his ankle.
Lucas jumped.
Another wrapped toward his throat.
He ducked.
A third pierced toward his chest.
He slapped it aside with the flat of his blade.
The thorn struck a nearby wall instead.
The entire stone surface exploded from the impact.
Lucas narrowed his eyes.
That would've killed him instantly.
The monsters were getting stronger.
Then the ground moved.
Roots erupted beneath him.
Lucas immediately rolled.
Massive thorn-covered roots burst from the earth where he had been standing.
Buildings collapsed.
Stone shattered.
The roots pursued him relentlessly.
Lucas sprinted.
The city became his battlefield.
He vaulted over wagons.
Leapt across debris.
Ran along crumbling walls.
The roots chased him like living serpents.
One nearly caught him.
Its thorns grazed his shoulder.
Blood appeared instantly.
Lucas ignored it.
Pain was irrelevant.
Survival wasn't.
The roots closed in.
Three directions.
No escape.
Then Lucas smiled.
Finally.
A mistake.
The roots had crossed each other's paths.
Lucas spun.
His sword cut in a perfect arc.
One root severed.
The second collapsed into the third.
The third tangled into the fourth.
Within seconds the entire formation became a knot of writhing vines.
Lucas drove his sword downward.
Straight into the center.
BOOM.
The roots exploded apart.
Splinters rained across the street.
The soldiers watching erupted into cheers.
The Thorned Sovereign did not.
It simply continued watching.
Lucas finally realized something.
The monster hadn't moved.
Not once.
Everything so far—
Was merely its servants.
Its disposable soldiers.
And Lucas still hadn't reached it.
His breathing grew heavier.
His arms burned.
His wounds multiplied.
But his eyes never left the Sovereign.
Then another wave emerged.
Larger than before.
Twice the size.
Twice the number.
Lucas exhaled slowly.
"Of course."
A thorn creature lunged.
Lucas cut it down.
Another.
Another.
Another.
The battlefield became endless.
Blood soaked his clothing.
His sword arm trembled from exhaustion.
Yet he continued advancing.
Step.
By step.
By step.
Each monster he killed brought him closer.
Every wound carried him forward.
The Thorned Sovereign finally spoke.
Its voice echoed like grinding wood.
"HuMaN..."
Lucas didn't answer.
A creature attacked.
He cut it apart.
Another.
Dead.
Another.
Dead.
The monster continued.
"WhY...?"
Lucas finally stopped.
Only for a moment.
His sword dripped with black sap and blood.
Bodies surrounded him.
The street looked like a graveyard.
Then he answered.
"Because behind me..."
He pointed his sword toward the manor.
Toward Bereshith.
Toward Levanah.
Toward Yareach.
Toward everyone waiting.
"...is my home."
Silence.
Then Lucas took another step forward.
"And I already lost one family."
Another step.
"I won't lose another."
The Thorned Sovereign stared.
The remaining monsters hesitated.
For the first time—
Not Lucas.
The monsters.
Because the man walking toward them no longer looked human.
Not because of magic.
Not because of blessings.
But because no ordinary man should still be standing.
Yet Lucas continued advancing.
Sword in hand.
Eyes unwavering.
Like a knight returning to the battlefield he was born for.
And for the first time since entering the city—
The Thorned Sovereign slowly lifted its massive thorned sword.
Accepting Lucas as a worthy opponent.
The true battle was about to begin.