The dawn broke quietly over the battered plains of Northern France.
For the first time in weeks, the rain had stopped. The scent of smoke and steel still clung to the air, but for a fleeting moment, the world seemed still — as if it too was holding its breath before the storm to come.
Within the ruins of an ancient fortress, banners fluttered weakly in the cold wind.
They bore the sigil of the Heroic Alliance — the remnants of a once-glorious order now reduced to shadows of their former selves. Around the courtyard, soldiers trained in silence, their eyes dull, their movements heavy.
Arthur watched them from the balcony above, his hands gripping the stone railing.
His armor, once radiant gold, was now tarnished and cracked, repaired more times than he could count. His face, lined with exhaustion and grief, bore the look of a man who had seen too many victories that felt like defeats.
Behind him, a voice broke the silence.
"Still no word from Taye's unit."
Arthur didn't turn. He already knew the answer.
Sir Elijah — the knight from Britain — stepped closer, his own armor streaked with dirt and dried blood. "You don't have to blame yourself for every loss, Arthur."
"I don't," Arthur replied softly. "But I carry them."
He looked out toward the horizon, where the sky shimmered faintly violet — a mark of Adrian's spreading influence. "And soon, there won't be anyone left to carry anything."
Elijah exhaled, setting his hand on Arthur's shoulder. "Then we carry it together."
Arthur almost smiled. Almost.
---
The council chamber was dim, lit only by the fractured glow of a cracked crystal orb — their last means of communication across continents. Around the massive round table sat the remaining champions of the Heroic Order.
There were only seven now.
Arthur Pendragon, the Holy Knight of France.
Elijah Graves, Sword of Britain.
Hana Kim, Phoenix of Korea.
Wei Long, the Dragon Monk of China.
Amani Zola, the Spear of the Savanna (from Kenya).
Lucien Voss, the Silent Magus of Germany.
Rhea Valen, the Oracle of Greece.
Each bore scars — both visible and unseen — from the war that had consumed half the planet.
The room was quiet until Arthur broke the silence.
"Taye's unit has fallen."
No one spoke. The air itself seemed to tighten.
Rhea closed her eyes, whispering a prayer under her breath. "He was one of our brightest lights."
Arthur nodded. "And now he's gone. Along with two divisions of soldiers. We can't afford to keep losing like this."
Wei Long tapped his fingers against the table, his expression calm but cold. "If we face Adrian without a plan, we'll join him soon enough."
Hana slammed her hand against the table. "A plan? You think plans mean anything against that monster? He wiped out an entire city overnight!"
Amani leaned forward, her dark eyes burning. "And yet we can't run. If we retreat, his darkness will spread across the continents. You've seen the skies — it's already reaching the east."
The crystal pulsed faintly, showing a flicker of the corrupted lands under Adrian's control — black veins spreading through forests, rivers, even the oceans themselves.
Lucien spoke for the first time, his voice low and sharp. "He's not just conquering land. He's infecting reality. The Abyss is merging with this world."
Arthur stood, placing both hands on the table. "Then we stop it before it completes."
The others looked at him — some with hope, others with doubt.
Elijah frowned. "And how, exactly, do we 'stop' a man who commands the Abyss itself?"
Arthur's gaze hardened. "By remembering who he was."
That drew silence.
"He wasn't born a monster," Arthur continued. "He was one of us. A student of the Order. A man who wanted to help people, even when no one believed in him. I was there when he was humiliated — when they mocked his affinity, when they rejected him."
He turned away, guilt flickering across his face. "And I did nothing."
Rhea's voice softened. "Arthur…"
He looked back at them, eyes burning with a mix of regret and resolve. "I don't know if the man I knew still exists. But I have to try. Because if we kill him now, without even trying to reach him — then we're no better than the system that created him."
For a long moment, no one spoke. The sound of wind rattling through broken glass filled the silence.
Then Hana exhaled slowly. "You're too idealistic for your own good, Arthur."
"Maybe," he said. "But it's all I have left."
---
That night, the heroes gathered in the training yard. The torches burned low, flickering in the cold breeze. Arthur stood among them, his sword resting at his side.
Wei Long practiced his breathing, the air shimmering faintly with golden energy around him. Hana ignited her twin blades, flames dancing between her fingers. Amani spun her spear in smooth, deadly arcs, slicing through the night air with precision.
They didn't need to speak. The unspoken truth lingered between them — this could be their last battle.
Elijah broke the silence, looking toward the distant horizon. "You think he'll come to us?"
Arthur nodded. "He doesn't hide. Not anymore."
As if on cue, the sky above them rumbled. A deep, resonant vibration shook the earth.
From far away, a purple flash lit up the clouds.
The Gate was opening.
Rhea's eyes widened, her voice trembling. "He's not coming to us. He's bringing the war here."
Arthur turned, his sword gleaming faintly in the firelight. "Then we'll meet him halfway."
He raised his blade to the sky, and the others followed, the faint echo of their oaths filling the night air.
"For the world that still breathes," he said quietly.
"For those we've lost," Elijah added.
"For the light that remains," Rhea whispered.
And for a moment — a brief, fragile heartbeat — they stood united.
---
Far away, within the storm clouds above, Adrian watched them through the veil of the Abyss.
His eyes, twin suns of violet flame, narrowed as he saw Arthur raise his sword.
He didn't speak. But somewhere deep inside, something flickered — a whisper of memory, of friendship, of what once was.
Then it was gone.
The Gate pulsed once more, and the darkness spread across the sky.
The final war had begun.