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A Raid Into the Unknown
The winds howled as the Valkary rode under the cover of night, the distant glow of Varelos piercing through the darkness. Unlike the cities they had conquered before, this place was different—it held influence far beyond its borders, with deep ties to the Pantheon, hidden sects, and other powerful factions.
Lucan rode beside Modred, his golden eyes sharp as he studied the distant fortress. Massive stone walls, reinforced with magic, loomed ahead, far stronger than the previous noble estates they had raided.
"This won't be like last time," Lucan murmured. "Varelos doesn't just have soldiers. It has influence. It has secrets. And it won't fall easily."
Modred didn't respond. He could feel it, too.
This place reeked of something dangerous.
Arthur, riding a few paces ahead, kept his gaze locked on the watchtowers surrounding the city. The torches lining the outer walls burned with an eerie blue glow, an indication of high-level magical defenses.
Dante let out a low whistle. "They're prepared for something. Question is… do they know we're coming?"
Fenrick grinned, flexing his fingers. "If they don't, we'll let them know soon enough."
The moment those words left his mouth—an explosion rocked the outer gates.
The battle had begun.
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The First Strike
From the shadows, Lucan vanished, his presence fading into nothing. He reappeared on the walls of the fortress, his dagger slicing through the throat of the first sentry before the man could even scream.
Blood sprayed across the stone.
Modred led the charge, his crimson eyes glowing beneath the night sky. He cut through the first wave of defenders with terrifying precision, his blade moving so fast that none of them even had time to register their deaths.
The air twisted violently as Xeraniel raised a hand—gravity collapsed, sending an entire watchtower imploding inward, crushing soldiers beneath its debris.
A captain charged toward Modred, his longsword coated in blue fire. His movements were fast—but not fast enough.
Modred sidestepped, blade flashing once.
The captain staggered, blinking in confusion.
Then, his torso split apart, blood pouring onto the stone.
Dante danced between enemy lines, his black lightning flickering as he tore through multiple warriors. The scent of burning flesh filled the air.
"They're strong," Arthur muttered, blocking a downward strike with his sword. "Stronger than the last city."
Lucan reappeared beside him, eyes gleaming. "Then let's make this fun."
They moved like shadows, unstoppable, relentless.
But as they cut deeper into the city, something felt… off.
The enemy wasn't retreating.
They were waiting.
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The Unseen Threat
As they advanced, a strange energy filled the air—heavy, suffocating.
Then, the sky cracked open.
A monstrous wave of blue light surged downward, consuming entire sections of the battlefield. Warriors screamed as their bodies disintegrated into nothingness.
Lucan's eyes widened. "This… isn't normal magic."
Xeraniel narrowed his eyes. "No. This is divine."
Before they could react, the ground beneath them ruptured.
From the depths of Varelos, hooded figures emerged, their bodies crackling with unholy energy. Their faces were hidden, but their voices chanted in an ancient tongue.
"...We are the chosen… we are the hands of the gods…"
Modred exhaled, gripping his sword tighter. The Pantheon's influence ran deeper than expected.
And now, they were watching.
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An Audience with the Princess
While the fires of Varelos raged, Modred stood in the royal palace, his expression unreadable as he faced Princess Seraphina.
She was dressed in deep crimson, her long red hair cascading over her shoulders like a river of fire. But it was her orange eyes—bright, unwavering—that held his attention.
"You don't talk much, do you?" she asked, tilting her head slightly.
Modred remained silent.
Seraphina stepped closer, her voice softer. "Then allow me."
She placed a hand on her chest. "You intrigue me, Modred. The way you fight, the way you carry yourself... You don't seek approval, nor do you care for politics. You are unlike any warrior I've ever met."
Modred's eyes flickered. "I fight to destroy what stands in my way. Nothing more."
Seraphina studied him, then chuckled softly.
"You are dangerous, Modred. And yet… you are exactly what this kingdom needs."
Before he could respond, the doors swung open.
The Queen entered, her presence regal, her gaze sharp.
"Then it is settled." Her voice was like iron wrapped in silk. "The engagement will proceed."
Modred's eyes darkened. "Engagement?"
The Queen nodded. "You will wed Seraphina. The King has already approved it."
Outside the palace, nobles whispered in outrage—furious that a warrior of unknown bloodline would be tied to the royal family.
But none dared defy the King's will.
Seraphina smirked. "Surprised?"
Modred's response was cold, unwavering.
"No."
Her smile widened. "Good. Because whether you like it or not… we are bound by destiny now."
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A Silent Discussion
The fires of Varelos had long since died, but the stench of blood and smoke remained.
Deep within the Valkary's stronghold, Arthur, Modred, Fenrick, and Dante gathered in silence.
No words were spoken. No explanations given.
But something passed between them. A plan. A revelation.
The air was thick with tension, their expressions unreadable.
Whatever was coming next would change everything.
And the world would never be the same.
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