The early morning should have been quiet, but instead it was broken by the sound of n screaming.
Soldiers fell one after another. The battlefield was lit not by torches, but by fireballs hurled through the air by enemy mages.
The ground shook as armored knights charged forward, their shields raised, only to be struck down before they even reached their foes.
Steel clashed against steel, yet it was drowned beneath the roar of explosions and the cries of the dying.
At the headquarters of Luminia, chaos reigned.
Officials and commanders stumbled from their tents, their faces pale. This was not supposed to happen. The spies had been clear: the enemy would not arrive for another six hours. They had prepared to et the army at noon. Instead, the enemy had co under the cover of darkness, striking before anyone was ready.
"What is going on?" a general shouted, his voice breaking with fear. Maps were scattered across the table. Orders half-written lay forgotten. No one had answers.
All they could hear was the steady thunder of artillery and the pounding of enemy rolling closer.
Minute by minute, Luminia’s land was being eaten away. Villages on the border burned. Fields that once grew wheat now glowed red with fire.
On the front lines, their knights tried to hold the ground, but arrows rained down from the sky, followed by waves of charging infantry.
The mages of Luminia ford circles, chanting spells to fight back.
Great walls of ice rose, only to shatter under bombardnts of fire. Lightning streaked through the smoke-filled air, striking soldiers both friend and foe. The battlefield had beco a storm of magic and iron, a place where no voice could be heard without a scream.
And still, the soldiers of Luminia died.
They fell on the muddy ground, one by one, while their commanders argued inside the safety of the headquarters. The war had begun before anyone was ready, and already, it felt as if the heart of Luminia was slipping away—piece by piece, life by life.
On an isolated hill far from the noise of clashing steel, Christopher stood with his cloak fluttering in the wind. From his vantage point, he could see the chaos spreading across the land. Villages burning, soldiers running, commanders frozen with fear.
He let out a laugh. Not a simple laugh, but a deep, hysterical one that echoed across the stones.
"Hah! Ha Hahahahhahahaha!" His shoulders shook, his voice raw with amusent. "Look at them! The mighty officials of Luminia, shitting their pants before the real battle even begins."
His laughter rolled into the night, but then his tone dropped low, almost like a whisper ant only for himself.
"People pretend killing is evil," he muttered, eyes gleaming. "But what is life without death? The wolf kills the sheep, the lion kills the deer, the farr kills the cow. It is all the sa. Killing is not wrong—it is the price that gives weight to living. Without it, life would be worthless."
He raised his hand as if gripping the battlefield itself. His voice grew louder, almost sermon-like.
"War is not a curse. It is the truth of this world. When two wills collide, when two nations desire the sa land, the sa power—blood must spill. Peace is the illusion. War is the law."
And again, he burst into wild laughter.
"Hahahhahhahah! Yes, inevitable! Unstoppable! Let them scream, let them run—this is the music of life itself!"
The flas in the distance painted his figure red as he stood there, mad yet strangely calm, watching the world break apart beneath him.
General Ardyn also known as the flaming general of Luminia stood tall upon the hill. The night wind carried the sll of smoke, iron, and burning flesh. His eyes were locked on the battlefield below—his people, his soldiers, his land. They were dying. Every scream carried the weight of his failure.
Did we make a mistake? The thought pressed into his skull like a knife. Everything was in our favor. Our strength, our numbers, our strategy... so what changed? Why, all of a sudden, have we—the hunters—beco the hunted?
His jaw tightened. He reached to his back and drew his greatsword. Its blade was wide and heavy, marked by a deep red line that ran through its center like a vein. As his hands closed around the hilt, the weapon answered him. Flas rippled across its edge, licking the steel as if the sword itself was hungry for war. The heat wrapped around him like a cloak.
Behind him, a worker lord stumbled forward, his voice trembling.
"General... are you going to join the battle yourself?"
Ardyn did not turn. His eyes stayed fixed on the battlefield, on the dark tide pushing against his people. His answer was calm, heavy, like the weight of the sword in his hands.
"We cannot defy the inevitable."
The words left his mouth like an oath. Without hesitation, he stepped forward. Then he leapt.
The earth rushed up to et him as he dropped from the hill. His flaming sword burned brighter, lighting the night like a falling star. For a mont, both friend and foe looked up, stunned by the sight. And when he landed, the ground shook. Sparks scattered. Flas roared.
General Ardyn had joined the war.
Minister Havlor stood watching through a spyglass. The glow of fire illuminated the night, and amidst the chaos, he caught sight of a blazing figure leaping from the hill. Ardyn, the proud general of Luminia, had entered the war himself.
Havlor lowered the glass and let out a low laugh. His shoulders shook, and then the laugh grew louder until it filled the tent.
"Hah... hahahahah! As expected of Lord Christopher. He foresaw this. He told us the proud lion would step onto the field himself when cornered. And look—there he is, flas in hand, ready to burn himself out."
He raised his hand and made a sharp gesture, a signal drilled into his soldiers. His voice cut through the air like steel.
"Vice Commander! Go, Viktor! Kill that Ardyn. Tear his pride to pieces."
From the shadows of the outpost, a short man stepped forward. His fra was small, but his movents carried the weight of danger. Viktor’s eyes glead with sothing inhuman, and as he pulled out his double kunai, a grin spread across his face.
The pupils of his eyes twisted, glowing faintly red as bloodlust swelled within him. He licked his lips, his smile widening with every heartbeat.
"So, the great Ardyn finally shows himself... perfect."
Without waiting for another word, Viktor dashed forward. His steps were quick, almost soundless, his figure flickering in and out of the smoke. Where others stumbled through mud and blood, he seed to glide as if the battlefield belonged to him. Soldiers barely noticed him until he was already gone, slipping past like a shadow carried by the wind.
The battlefield had found its predator. And his prey was the flaming general of Luminia.
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