The army had arrived.
Loki and Freya stood atop the highest tower of the northern wall, their eyes fixed on the horizon. The morning sun cast long shadows across the approaching force, revealing the full scale of what they faced. It stretched from one end of the valley to the other—a sea of soldiers, banners, and war machines. The ground trembled beneath their march.
Their eyes widened.
This was a truly massive army. Three nations united under a single banner.
The Kingdom of Magic, Altena—its mages stood in formation, their staffs raised, their robes billowing in the wind. The Military Kingdom of Rukia—its soldiers marched in perfect unison, their armor gleaming, their discipline absolute. And the Empire—larger and stronger than both, a nation of conquerors with the same desire to rule the world. It was the same Empire where most of the nobles Damien had encountered during the Ishtar Auction had originated.
Loki's voice was barely a whisper. "Unbelievable... this is what... a hundred thousand?"
Freya's golden eyes scanned the army, her expression unreadable. "Not only that. I can sense around five thousand Level Threes and Level Twos. About ten Level Fives." She paused, her voice dropping. "And I do not see gods with them. So... how?"
Vritra stood between them, her gaze fixed on the advancing force. "The dragons. It has to be them for sure. They have been planning this for a long time."
"But how?" Freya's voice was sharp, demanding. "That is Falna. Only gods can grant Falna."
Vritra's expression did not shift. "Did you think only you gods can grant a blessing? Just like you have Falna, we have a similar thing. Dragon Blood. Those who drink our blood gain the blessings of a dragon and can grow just the same as an adventurer. But instead of needing Falna from monsters, they instead grow through constant bloody combat with one another."
She paused, her voice darkening.
"For one Level Five to grow using Dragon Blood, a hundred others must die." She looked at the army below. "Truly... evil."
Loki shook her head. "Still... no matter. We can handle them."
Vritra's eyes narrowed. "I would fear the worst. They are trained to fight people first... not monsters like the adventurers."
Her gaze swept across the army, searching for something. Then her eyes widened.
"But... I do wonder how they raised an army. It is established within the rules that they should not be able to..." She trailed off, her face paling. "Unless..."
"What?" Loki demanded. "What is it?"
"It is not them." Vritra's voice was hollow. "It is not Yinglong and Albion."
She turned to face them, her golden eyes burning with realization.
"It is the One-Eyed Black Dragon. Azi Dahaka."
Loki's face went pale. "Fuck..."
"These are all made of his blood," Vritra continued. "Because the rules do not apply to him."
Freya's jaw tightened. "Even now, that fucker haunts us."
Vritra nodded slowly. "Haunts us? No. He is attacking us. If this is an army of his here, it tells me that he will come too." She looked at the sky, as if expecting to see him at any moment. "I just hope Damien is back by that time. I hate to say it, but even I cannot face him head-on. Not with my limits."
Loki turned her gaze back to the army. "Look... they are moving."
Freya straightened, her hand resting on her blade. "Yes. I suppose it starts. I told them to prepare for a siege, and it will be a long one. We will have to hold."
Loki's voice was quiet, almost a whisper.
"Hopefully we do..."
.....
The evening sun bled across Orario as the Dragon Army's siege began. Their siege weapons hammered the walls relentlessly, trebuchets sending boulders crashing into the city's ancient defenses while mages exchanged volleys of fire and lightning with Orario's defenders. Adventurers scrambled to reinforce the crumbling sections, their shouts lost in the chaos of battle.
Alcy and Vritra took the fight to the enemy. The demi-goddess descended into the infantry lines like a storm, her massive sword carving a path through the ranks, while the Black Dragon of Darkness emerged from the shadows to tear apart siege engines with brutal efficiency. Together, they destroyed wave after wave of weapons before the enemy could bring them to bear against the walls. But each time they engaged, the Dragon Army responded faster, surrounding them with infantry and archers until they were forced to retreat into the darkness.
The skirmishes continued through the night. Orario's defenders held the line, their experience against monsters giving them an edge against mortal soldiers. But the Dragon Army was relentless, their discipline absolute. They pushed forward, inch by inch, their siege weapons slowly grinding down the walls.
Then the sky darkened.
Two figures descended from the clouds...Albion, wreathed in white light, his armor gleaming like polished bone, and Yinglong, draped in golden radiance, her beauty ethereal and cold. They landed in the center of the Dragon Army, their presence sending a wave of tension through the defenders.
The siege paused. The soldiers on both sides watched as the two dragons surveyed the battlefield. Albion raised his hand, and the siege engines resumed their assault with renewed fury. Yinglong's golden eyes swept across the walls, searching for something....or someone.
The war had entered its next phase. The defenders braced themselves for what was to come. The walls were damaged but not broken. The adventurers were exhausted but not defeated. And in the distance, the Dragon Army's full might was yet to be unleashed.
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