And as they drew closer, they saw the truth.
The Emperor was wounded.Gravely.
His golden armor was split in several places.Across his abdomen ran a deep gash—an impossible wound for a "mere duke" to inflict.From it flowed red-and-gold light: imperial blood, saturated with mana so dense it made the air tremble.
"F-Father…" Naira was the first to reach him, her voice fractured by disbelief and fear.
The Emperor did not answer at once.He was on one knee, one hand braced against the ground, breathing with visible strain.
And then they all felt it.
His mana.
Uncontrolled.Violent.Like a miniature sun on the verge of detonation.
The Crimson Guard reacted instantly.
"Withdraw His Majesty! Now!""The mana is unstable—clear the spears!""Protect the princess!"
Naira grasped her father's arm, trembling.It was the first time in her life she had seen him vulnerable.Not defeated—but shaken.
Because Laurence Douglas had achieved the impossible:
he had wounded a man with Epsilon affinity—one of the strongest figures in the human bloodline.
Imperial officers watched in horror as the mana around the Emperor warped, sparks of light snapping through the air as it shuddered under the strain.
"Your Majesty…" one of the elder generals whispered. "We must stabilize you. If your mana continues to fluctuate—"
The Emperor silenced him with a trembling hand.
His voice, though strained, remained commanding.
"I am… fine."
It was a lie.Everyone knew it.
Each breath made the earth crack beneath him.Each heartbeat released a wave of power that forced nearby soldiers to stumble back.
Naira clenched her jaw.
"Who… who did this to you?" she asked softly, though she already knew.
The Emperor rose slowly.His eyes, once tempered, now burned with silent fury.
"Laurence Douglas."
A murmur rippled through the troops.They could not believe it.The northern duke, of Delta affinity, had pierced the defenses of the most powerful man on the continent.
General Varghen spoke through clenched teeth.
"That man… fought like a monster."
The Emperor corrected him.
"No.He fought like a Douglas.And he died as one."
He tightened his fist, and a drop of burning blood struck the ground, vaporizing it.
"But he left me a message," he continued, his voice edged with flame.
Naira looked at him, waiting.
The Emperor recalled Laurence's final words, spoken through blood and contempt:
When you set foot in the Duchy…you will learn what hell is.
A threat.A warning.A vow.
The Emperor ground his jaw, feeling a mix of rage, respect… and, for the first time in years, a sliver of doubt.
The final impact of their duel had torn open his abdomen.The mana shockwave had destabilized his arcane heart.
Thick, dark blood slid down his golden armor.
And directly before him, like a living wall, the maddened Douglases hurled themselves forward.
The Imperial Guard acted at once.
"PROTECT THE EMPEROR!""IRON SHIELD FORMATION!"
They barely managed to intercept the unleashed fury.Dozens of guards threw themselves into the path—and were cut apart without the Douglases slowing even a fraction.
The elite guard collided with the Duchy's warriors, and the crash was like thunder.
Generals shouted orders no one heard.
When the Emperor saw how those men fought outside their homeland… a stab of doubt pierced him.If this was what the Douglases could do beyond their territory—then what would it mean to face them on their own soil?
At last, his guard forced a withdrawal, carving a path through blood and shattered armor.
Behind them, the field looked like the aftermath of a storm.
Outside the front lines, the imperial camp felt like a funeral.
Naira entered the Emperor's tent.She stopped short at the sight of him—bandaged, pale, breathing with difficulty.
Concern, anger, and confusion crossed her face.
"Father…" she whispered, fists tightening. "Today… we lost too many men. This campaign against the Kingdom… has been a disaster."
The Emperor opened his eyes slowly.
"It has not been a disaster," he rasped. "It has been… a necessary trial."
"A trial?" Naira nearly spat the word. "Hundreds dead! And the Douglases… none of them retreated. None begged for mercy. They were smiling as they died, Father! What kind of—"
"The kind of enemy I already knew," he interrupted.
Naira took a step back.
The Emperor exhaled carefully.
"Listen to me, Naira. Nothing that happened today was outside my calculations.The Kingdom will fall.The Duchy will fall.But not in a single day, nor in a single offensive."
"Then…?" she pressed.
"Six legions," he whispered, and the air seemed to freeze."Six legions are already on their way. The most disciplined… and the most fanatical. They will not be long."
Naira went still.
"The army will rest," he continued. "It will recover.And when the legions arrive… we will advance."
Three days after the fall of Laurence Douglas, the horizon turned black.
Fifty thousand imperial soldiers—six full legions—marched like a living wall that made the earth tremble.Their drums boomed like the tolling of judgment.Their banners blotted out the sky.
From the Kingdom's fortress, no one had the strength left to shout defiance.
The atmosphere was dead.
The conference chamber was full, yet the silence was so crushing that even the crackle of a torch felt indecent.
King Felipe sat at the center, dark circles under his eyes, his face carved by sleepless nights.Before him, officers and commanders read reports in heavy voices.
"In total…" one general began, swallowing hard, "we have lost more than sixteen thousand men during the Empire's offensive."
The silence thickened.
Another added:
"Morale is shattered. The soldiers believe… that without Duke Douglas… the fortress will inevitably fall."
Felipe closed his eyes briefly.Yes.They all feared it.
Then came the report that made several heads snap up.
"Your Majesty…" a captain said, his expression hovering between absurdity and dread. "There was… an incident involving the Douglas mages."
Felipe frowned.
"Speak."
"Eight hundred mages from the Duchy attempted to open the gates and leave the fortress to attack the imperial legions. They claimed… they must die beside their lord. That remaining here would be dishonor."
An uneasy silence swept the room.
"Eight hundred…?" a commander whispered, pale.
"Yes, Your Majesty. It was madness. Fortunately, after the duke's death, they had drained nearly all their mana attacking the Emperor. We were able to restrain them only because they could barely stand. They've been confined to prevent catastrophe."
Felipe covered his face with one hand.
He knew them.
The Douglases were not merely a duchy.They were a cult of dangerous loyalty—a devotion so extreme it turned men and women into living shadows.
At last, the king spoke.
"Open their cells."
Horror flashed across the room.
"Your Majesty—""That would be allowing suicide—""There are eight hundred mages! They'll throw themselves to their deaths!"
Felipe struck the table.
"And that is precisely what they wish to do!" he roared. "We cannot strip them of their honor. They do not live without their lord."
"But—" a general began.
"No." Felipe rose to his feet. "When the battle begins… release them. Outside the walls."
His voice softened, heavy with respect.
"Let them continue their path. Let them follow Duke Douglas."
No one argued further.
Because though it was cruel…
it was also just.
At dawn on the fourth day, the imperial legions deployed their siege engines.
Spells collided in sky and earth, blanketing the fortress.Tower after tower was weakened.Imperial arcane tanks split cracks through the walls.The royal mages held their barriers—but they were exhausted.
Slowly…very slowly…
the Empire began to climb the walls.
Screams.Explosions.The sound of stone giving way.
"Father!" Naira shouted from the highest tower. "The wall has fallen!"
The Emperor, still weakened from his duel with Laurence, observed the breach and pressed his lips thin.Even wounded, his presence alone filled his soldiers with resolve.
The tide of imperial troops surged through the breach like an unstoppable torrent.
The battle within the walls began.
Bodies colliding.Screams.Steel against steel.Exploding spells.
For the first time in days…
the Empire was winning.
And then—
just as victory seemed inevitable—
At first, it was a low murmur beneath the earth.
As if something were breathing in the depths.
The dust churned by battle began to vibrate midair.
"What…?" Naira murmured, a chill creeping up her spine.
"An earthquake?" an imperial engineer shouted.
No.
It was not the earth.
It was the forest.
Something enormous was moving within it.Something many.Something countless.
The imperial soldiers in the breach slowed, confused.
Ladders creaked.Catapults shuddered.The gap in the wall fell into a tense, waiting silence…