The Brabant Kingdom, being closer to the north, committed slightly larger numbers: 3,000 cavalry, 50,000 infantry, and 100 reptar riders. These troops would all be sent to the Kingdom of Elonia.
Among those gathered, Sigmund, representing the most powerful Celeste Empire, observed with a sardonic smile. As all eyes turned toward him, the young emperor brought his hand down loudly on the central round table.
"Our Celeste Empire," he began, "plans to establish a new Papal Office. The god we will serve is… the Sun."
It was a clear provocation. The Sun and Radiance were essentially synonymous!
By invoking a different na for the sa deity, the flow of power and faith toward Radiance would weaken. The Pope exploded with fury.
"What madness is this? The Holy See of Radiance already exists! How dare you?!"
"The god you serve is Radiance. The god we serve is the Sun. Where is the problem?" Sigmund replied smoothly.
The room fell silent as the other monarchs watched Sigmund and Allegro III with wide-eyed astonishnt. It was a display of audacity befitting the second-greatest empire on the continent—practically a slap in the face.
"If you dislike it, return my brother, who fled to your lands. Then we can reconsider," Sigmund added.
Allegro III trembled with rage, his body shaking uncontrollably.
"You lunatic! You've lost your mind! Why would your brother be with us…?"
Sigmund's eyes, gleaming with madness, bore into the Pope. Experience exclusive tales on My Virtual Library Empire
"You know better than anyone, don't you? You have one week. Return him alive—or else. Mark my words—he must be alive. Understood?"
Sigmund cast one last glance at the Pope's red, furious face before smiling brightly. Turning to Henry III, he said, "Apologies, Henry, for the delay. Of course, we'll send reinforcents: 5,000 cavalry, 50,000 infantry, and 50 griffon riders. And now, if you'll excuse ."
Before the Pope could rise in protest, Sigmund vanished from the room.
One by one, the other monarchs coughed awkwardly and disappeared from the eting, leaving a trembling, enraged Pope and a bewildered Henry III to guard the shadowed world reflected in the mirror.
Michael crossed the border and was welcod by the Elonian army. The crown prince had already been escorted to the command tent with special treatnt.
Around the fortress, tattered flags fluttered in the wind—a symbol of Elonia's dire circumstances.
The courtyard of the temporary base was filled with wounded soldiers. Healers and dics who had arrived with the reinforcents moved quickly, prioritizing the severely injured while leaving minor injuries to field dics.
The state of the base made it clear that there was no ti for ceremonial inspections.
As Michael mounted his dragon, Marcus, to assess the situation, the fortress's alarm bells began to ring frantically.
Beyond the fragile walls, the Pamir Empire's forces were advancing with battering rams.
Three in total, these siege engines, while crudely built, were still formidable. The Pamir Empire, lacking magicians among their ranks, relied heavily on such devices. Flying serpents circled the rams, providing aerial protection.
Without hesitation, Michael soared into the sky on Marcus.
"Marcus, breathe fire on those battering rams! the kitten, eliminate any ground forces that might be ard with anti-dragon ballistae. Garrett, cover the airspace! We must seize control of the skies."
Gargoyles, previously concealed as small stone figurines in a box strapped to Marcus's saddle, awoke. Their stone bodies stretched, and they let out a long wail before taking flight to shield Marcus like arrows in the air.
Thus began the first battle of this war.
Marcus's massive wings beat with a thunderous roar, their shadow eclipsing the battlefield as the setting sun illuminated his silhouette. Flas erupted from his jaws, cutting through the air like a living entity and engulfing a battering ram in their fiery embrace.
The siege engine groaned under the intense heat, its iron plates glowing red-hot and its wooden beams consud by flas. Black smoke billowed into the sky as the structure began to collapse. With the support beams failing, the heavy chains and chanisms fell one by one, shaking the earth with each impact.
Pamir Empire soldiers stationed atop the battering ram scread as the flas consud them. anwhile, snake-like beasts circling nearby attempted to extinguish the fire with jets of water, but their efforts were futile. Compared to Marcus's inferno, the water streams were pitiful, evaporating instantly in the overwhelming heat.
The serpentine beasts writhed in desperation, trying to evade the flas, but it was too late. The fire latched onto their scales, climbing their bodies and silencing their anguished cries. As the burnt remains of the beasts fell to the ground, Marcus let out a victorious roar.
Before the sheer terror of the dragon, the Pamir soldiers scattered in panic.
"It's a dragon! Save us!"
"Argh!"
Warriors of the tribes rushed forward on horseback, desperately trying to extinguish the blaze. They poured water and heaped sand onto the flas, doing everything they could to combat the inferno. But their efforts were in vain—the fire only grew stronger, mocking their attempts.
The blistering heat was unbearable, forcing even those who approached to flee. Warriors caught in the flas scread and writhed, their bodies alight like grotesque human candles. No one dared approach the battering ram again, leaving only the sound of crackling flas, clanging tal, and thick smoke to dominate the battlefield.
The soldiers of the Pamir Empire could only watch in stunned silence. In an instant, they had lost all three of their battering rams. Attempting a counterattack, they aid their ballistae at Marcus, but their efforts were swiftly thwarted.
Miaomiao, reverting to her original form, darted through the enemy ranks like a flash of lightning, tearing apart the soldiers manning the ballistae. In her wake, she left dismbered limbs, shattered weapons, and blood-soaked earth. Once her work was done, she shrank back into a smaller form and disappeared into the chaos of the imperial army.
From a distance, enemy beasts rose into the air to challenge Marcus. Griffins and wyverns filled the skies, their piercing cries echoing across the battlefield.
Garrett's calm voice warned Michael.
[Five griffins and twelve wyverns are approaching. Coordinates: 40 degrees west, 70 degrees below Marcus's current position.]
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