Dominion Capital, Assembly Grounds
Private Gareth stood in formation with sixty thousand other soldiers. Nineteen years old, conscripted three months ago, still not sure how he'd ended up here.
Largest military assembly in fifty years. Rows upon rows of soldiers stretching across the capital's outer fields. Banners snapping in wind, armor gleaming, drums beating steady rhythm.
Emperor Valerius stood on a raised platform, silver-haired and regal, surveying his army.
His voice carried across the assembly, magically amplified.
"Covenant threatens everything we have built. They threaten order. They threaten civilization. They threaten the empire itself. Today we march to end this rebellion once and for all. Victory is not optional—it is required. Failure means extinction. There is no middle ground left for us"
Gareth's stomach tightened. Extinction. Not defeat—extinction.
Around him, soldiers reacted differently. Regulars stood firm, professional, accepting orders. Conscripts like him shifted nervously, exchanging worried glances.
"We march east. Two weeks to Ashen Fields. There we crush this rebellion and restore proper order to the continent. For the empire!"
"FOR THE EMPIRE!" Sixty thousand voices roared back.
Drums intensified. Officers shouted commands. Formations began moving.
The march had begun.
***
Then Gareth saw it. Sky flickered. Just for a moment—one, maybe two seconds. Purple-black ripple across blue sky, like oil spreading on water.
He blinked. Gone. Normal blue sky remained.
"Did the sky just..." he started asking the soldier beside him.
"What?"
"Nothing. Thought I saw something. Probably just sun in my eyes"
"Drink more water. Heat does that sometimes"
Gareth nodded, unsure. Probably nothing.
***
Rear Column, Hours Later
The army stretched for kilometers. Sixty thousand troops didn't march in tight formation—they spread across roads and fields, moving like slow-flowing river.
Gareth found himself assigned to rear column. Support duties, supply wagons, and—
His breath caught.
Malvorn.
Even chained, even surrounded by fifty Chainkeepers with glowing control rods, the Shatterlord was overwhelming. Fifteen stories tall, every step causing minor earthquake, ground cracking beneath weight.
Gray-black scales, orange veins glowing faintly. Eight massive horns. Eyes deep brown and utterly exhausted.
Seven Soulsteel chains binding wrists, ankles, neck, tail, torso. All glowing with resonance control, pulsing blue light.
Gareth had heard stories about Lord-tier beasts. Never expected to march alongside one.
Another conscript whispered nervously. "That thing is on our side, right?"
"Chained to our side. There is a difference"
"What if chains break?"
"Then we die. Simple as that"
They marched in silence after that.
***
Five Kilometers Away, Hidden Ridge
Ryl crouched behind rocks, spyglass pressed to eye. Four scouts with him, all watching the Dominion column below.
"Sixty thousand confirmed" one scout reported quietly. "Standard imperial formation. Siege equipment visible. Heavy cavalry on flanks"
Ryl adjusted focus, counting banners. Then his lens swept past something that made him freeze.
"Gods. Is that—"
Even from five kilometers, Malvorn was unmistakable. Massive shape towering above army, chains visible even at this distance.
"Lord-tier beast" another scout breathed. "Shatterlord from legends. They actually brought him"
Ryl lowered spyglass, mind racing. This changed everything. Lord-tier meant one Malvorn could devastate entire battalions. Chains meant he was controlled, forced to fight.
"Count Chainkeepers around him"
Scout with better lens focused. "Fifty, maybe more. All carrying control rods. Keeping him surrounded constantly"
Ryl pulled out Bloomscript crystal. Activated communication channel to Bloomring.
"Emergency report. Enemy force: sixty thousand troops confirmed. Standard formation, siege equipment, heavy cavalry. Estimate twelve days to reach Ashen Fields—they are moving faster than expected"
Paused, then added grimly. "WARNING: Malvorn the Shatterlord confirmed present. Lord-tier earth beast, heavily chained, fifty-plus handlers. Threat level: EXTREME. Repeat, EXTREME"
***
Then his compass started spinning wildly. Needle whipping in circles, unable to find north.
"What the..." He tapped it. Still spinning. "Is this broken?"
Scout checked his own compass. Same behavior. "Mine too. Was working fine an hour ago"
"Magnetic interference? Are they jamming our equipment somehow?"
"Possible. Dominion has resonance-tech capabilities. Could be intentional"
Ryl frowned. Attributed to enemy sabotage, filed report accordingly. No reason to suspect anything else.
Crystal confirmed receipt. Brenn's voice crackled back: "Report received. Malvorn noted. Returning to base immediately. Well done"
Scouts packed equipment, began careful withdrawal. Dominion column continued marching below, oblivious to watchers above.
***
Bloomring Hold, War Room
Brenn read the report aloud to assembled council. Draven, Lysara, Joran, Ryl recently returned from scouting.
"They are ahead of schedule. Moving faster than eight-week estimate. They are rushing this, showing desperation. And Malvorn's presence confirms what we suspected—they are betting everything on this assault"
Draven studied the map. "Lord-tier earth beast, enslaved for two hundred years. If we can reach him during battle, sever those chains, he might refuse to fight for them. He might even ally with us"
Lysara's voice carried caution. "Or he might crush us completely if our liberation attempt fails. That is the risk we are taking"
"A risk worth taking" Draven replied firmly. "Covenant exists to break chains. Malvorn's chains are included in that mission. He is a victim, not a villain"
Joran added technical assessment. "Forged Bloom weapons can disrupt Soulsteel resonance on contact. Beast Speakers trained in severance techniques. Theoretically possible to free him mid-battle. But reaching him through fifty Chainkeepers plus sixty thousand troops? Nearly impossible"
"Nearly is not completely" Draven said. "We prepare the teams. If opportunity presents itself, we take it"
Brenn issued deployment orders.
"All forces move to Ashen Fields immediately. Fortifications should be complete already. Fifty thousand eight hundred troops mobilizing—coalition forces converging from multiple approach routes. Beast Speakers form severance teams with priority objective: reach Malvorn if he deploys. Equipment: Forged Bloom severance tools, resonance disruptors, backup extraction plans"
Maps updated. Assignments distributed. Twelve days to prepare defensive positions.
War was no longer approaching. It was here.
***
Dominion Column, Sixth Day of March
Malvorn marched because he had no choice.
Two hundred years taught him that lesson. Obey or suffer worse pain. Walk or be forced through agony.
His legs ached. Joints grinding with every step, muscles screaming for rest that never came. Six days of constant marching. Handlers allowed brief stops—eat, drink, continue. No real rest.
When he slowed, they increased resonance intensity. Control rods burning hotter, shackles tightening, pain spiking.
Pain as motivation. Pain as discipline. Pain as existence.
*Two hundred years. Vault to battlefield. Battlefield to vault. Never free. Never rest*
*Covenant frees slaves. I am a slave. If I fight them, I am fighting against my own liberation. If I kill them, I am killing my only hope*
*But chains enforce obedience. Two hundred years these chains never broke. Maybe they never will*
*Unless this time is different. Unless chains fail during battle*
*Hope is dangerous. Hope leads to more disappointment. Leads to more pain*
*But I cannot stop hoping*
His eyes closed briefly. Just wanted to stop. Just wanted an end. Any end.
***
Then ground beneath him shimmered purple-black for half a second.
Resonance in his shackles spiked violently. Pain exploded through every chain simultaneously—white-hot agony, worse than normal control.
Malvorn roared. Not aggression. Pure suffering vocalized.
Handlers panicked, adjusting control rods frantically. Readings spiking on their instruments, glowing wildly.
"What was that?! External interference?!"
"Unknown! Resonance levels went critical for three seconds, now normalizing!"
"Monitor him closely! If rods malfunction during battle—"
"They will not malfunction. We reinforced them. This was just... anomaly. Magnetic storm maybe. Natural interference"
Pain faded back to normal levels. Normal terrible levels, but at least not critical.
Malvorn breathed heavily, body trembling. Control re-established.
Handlers exchanged nervous looks. Nobody mentioned what they all feared—if rods failed during battle, Malvorn could break free. And nobody could stop Lord-tier earth beast unchained.
March continued. Malvorn's thoughts returned to dark spiral of hope and despair, waiting for miracle that might never come.
***
Small Village, Eighth Day of March
Elara was kneading dough when the ground began rumbling.
She froze. Listened. Not earthquake. Too rhythmic. Too steady.
Outside, her neighbor was shouting. "ARMY! DOMINION ARMY APPROACHING!"
Village elder rang warning bell. "EVACUATE! EVERYONE WEST! NOW!"
Elara dropped everything. Grabbed her two children—daughter eight, son five—and ran.
Most villagers did the same. Small village, only two hundred people. They knew they could not resist empire. Survival meant fleeing.
One hundred eighty villagers fled west, away from approaching column.
Twenty stayed. Elderly who could not travel fast enough. Stubborn farmers refusing to abandon homes. Disabled unable to evacuate quickly.
Elara reached the ridge west of village with her children. Turned back, watching.
***
Dominion column approached. Then Malvorn appeared.
Even from distance, he was massive beyond comprehension. Fifteen stories of living mountain, chains glowing, earth cracking beneath each step.
He walked through village. Not targeting it deliberately. Just walking. Buildings in his path were simply there.
His foot came down on baker's shop. Crushed completely. Timber and stone compressed to rubble in instant.
Another step. Blacksmith's forge collapsed. Anvil buried beneath tons of debris.
Village elder's house—one of the twenty who stayed—direct hit. Structure obliterated.
Twelve of the twenty died. Crushed, trapped in collapsed buildings, killed by falling debris.
Eight survived through pure luck. Right place, right time, somehow avoided the path of destruction.
Malvorn did not even notice. To him, village was too small to register. Like human stepping on anthill without seeing ants.
***
Elara watched from ridge, clutching her children.
"Mama, why did it destroy our home?" her daughter asked, crying.
"It did not even see us, sweetheart. To something that large, we are like insects. We died without it even knowing we existed"
That somehow made it worse. Not malice. Not cruelty. Just indifference. Casualties without intent. Destruction through mere existence.
She held her children tighter, grateful they had fled in time.
Behind them, smoke rose from crushed village. Dominion column continued marching east, leaving devastation in casual wake.
War had not even begun yet. But people were already dying.
***
Notes:
Dominion March Begins: Sixty thousand troops plus Malvorn, two-week journey compressed to twelve days because rushing, Emperor's speech emphasizes extinction stakes.
Gareth's Introduction: Nineteen-year-old conscript, nervous, notices sky flicker but dismisses it, assigned rear column near Malvorn.
Scout Report: Ryl confirms sixty thousand troops and Malvorn presence, sends extreme warning to Bloomring, compass malfunction attributed to enemy sabotage.
Bloomring Response: Emergency council, deployment orders to Ashen Fields, Beast Speaker severance teams prepared for Malvorn liberation attempt.
Malvorn's Suffering: Six days marching without rest, joints aching, handlers using pain for control, hoping desperately for chains to break, resonance spike incident creates fear in handlers.
Village Casualties: Two hundred villagers, one hundred eighty evacuate successfully, twenty stay behind, twelve die from Malvorn walking through without noticing, eight survive by luck.
Three Anomaly Hints: Sky flicker during Emperor's speech dismissed as sun glare, compass malfunction attributed to enemy jamming, resonance spike blamed on magnetic storm—all subtle, all misattributed, foreshadowing building.
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