CHAPTER ELEVEN — WHEN WAR APPROACHES
Snow drifted lazily through the night sky above the Radiant Church's holy capital, settling on the armor of thousands of assembled soldiers. The air vibrated with the low thunder of boots, the clatter of divine-forged chains, the chanting of priests blessing the crusaders.
The mobilization had begun.
Golden banners whipped in the wind.
Rows of paladins stood shoulder to shoulder.
Inquisitors marched with cold precision.
Crusaders knelt receiving holy scripture brands.
War-priests chanted beneath towering spires.
And above them all, painted in the cold glow of the moon, a massive statue of their Radiant God looked down with an expression carved in eternal triumph.
It was the first Church mobilization of this size in nearly a century.
Their target?
A kingdom so small that most maps drew it as a dot.
Valtarus.
THE CHURCH TAMPS DOWN ITS FEARInside a private antechamber attached to the war plaza, several of the Twelve leaders gathered to finalize instructions before deployment.
Golden braziers burned with white fire.
Holy wards flickered overhead.
Snow melted on their boots as they entered.
General Vael looked ready to ravage a nation.
"This is nothing," he spat, adjusting the white mantle of the First Inquisition. "One little kingdom? The Radiant God will flatten them."
Archbishop Chrysa folded her arms, eyes narrowing.
"And yet… something still troubles me."
Vael rolled his eyes. "Not you again."
Chrysa hissed softly. "Do not presume confidence where there should be caution."
Vael snorted and gestured widely.
"LOOK OUTSIDE. We have ten thousand crusaders mobilizing, another ten thousand in the northern halls, and thirty thousand more ready to march at the Empire's command."
Chrysa didn't blink.
"And in six months, we've lost artifacts, ships, informants, dwarven alliances, and treasury access. All without knowing the cause."
Vael's jaw clenched.
"Coincidence."
Commander Drogan entered next, clad in full crusader armor so heavy the floor cracked beneath his stride.
He ignored the argument entirely and pointed to the war-map laid on the table.
"Valtarus sits at the center of five major kingdoms," Drogan said. "If we seize them, we control the southern routes. The Empire approves. The gods approve."
Halver the Chancellor added:
"We will justify this as a 'holy cleansing' of demonic influence. The surrounding nobles already accepted our reasoning. Some even offered supplies."
Vael grinned smugly.
"As expected. Everyone wants to be on the Radiant God's good side."
Chrysa muttered:
"Or everyone fears losing their heads."
Inquisitor Vael slammed his fist on the table.
"ENOUGH. We are the Church. If we declare Valtarus corrupted, then it IS corrupted."
Drogan nodded.
"We march at dawn."
THE SAINTESS REMAINS STILLBut in a room above them, the Saintess sat before a window of stained glass depicting holy victory. Her hands trembled slightly as a whisper of power shimmered around her.
She pressed her palms together.
Her eyes clouded with gold.
She saw the bandit army.
The merchant guild.
The pirate fleets.
The dwarven city.
The Nightborn children.
The Lycans.
The Vampire Lords.
The clone networks.
The artificial dungeon cores.
The Primordial blood pool.
The throne of shadows beneath Valtarus.
And then—
She saw him.
Arcturus.
Standing at the top of the palace terrace, looking down at his kingdom with calm, ancient eyes.
Her breath hitched.
That presence…
That aura…
It was nothing like the Radiant God.
It was deeper.
Older.
Heavier.
Something that existed before divine light was even taught to shine.
Something that once walked alongside the first stars.
She whispered in terror:
"…Not a demon. Not a monster."
Her voice cracked.
"…A true Primordial."
She turned, desperate, toward the door.
"Stop the council! Stop the war—"
But a cold voice entered the room behind her.
Aurion.
"No, child. It is too late."
She stared, horrified.
"You don't understand—HE isn't—"
Aurion raised a hand, silencing her.
"I understand," he said gently. "But this is not about understanding."
He stepped forward, placing a hand on her shoulder.
"This is about obedience."
The Saintess trembled.
"And if he is what you say… then our God wishes to test his strength."
Her blood ran cold.
"Or wishes us to die testing it," she whispered.
Aurion smiled faintly.
"Faith," he said.
She closed her eyes.
"Arcturus… forgive them."
But the armies were already marching.
THE MARCH OF THE CHURCHThousands of soldiers flowed from the Cathedral City like iron rivers coated in gold.
The First Inquisition led the vanguard:
—500 Inquisitor Elites
—1,800 Paladins
—7,000 Crusaders
—3,000 Clerics
—Holy siege engines
—Divine-beast cavalry
—Blessed golems
—Four Saints-in-training
—And three Radiant Wardens
Banners of blinding white fluttered above them.
Priests chanted hymns.
Holy horns trumpeted across the valley.
War.
War blessed by divine decree.
War justified by doctrine.
War upon a kingdom that had no idea the storm was coming.
THE KINGS OF OTHER REALMS RESPONDFrost KingdomKing Halden stood atop his icy balcony as a Church emissary finished speaking.
"We request passage through your lands," the emissary said. "The Inquisition marches to cleanse a kingdom of darkness."
The Frost King's gaze hardened.
"I grant passage," he said slowly, "but I will send scouts. For this 'darkness'… interests me."
Sun DynastyThe Emperor received the Church's message with a raised brow.
"Hunting demons, are they?" he mused. "Fine. We will allow your crusade to pass through our desert."
But his advisors whispered:
"But Azure Sun opposes the Church—"
The Emperor only smirked.
"We will watch quietly."
Western IslesThe pirates laughed when they heard about the crusade.
"They're marching south?"
"To Valtarus?"
"Idiots."
"Let them try."
The Dwarven UnionThe dwarves scoffed.
"Ye want tae march an army past Ironpeak?"
"Go around. Ye won't touch our lands."
"Not after ye insulted our King o' the Forge."
And thus, the Church routed their armies along the long eastern path.
Toward Valtarus.
Toward Arcturus.
Toward death.
VALTARUS — THE CALM BEFORE THE STORMThe sun rose softly over the Kingdom of Valtarus.
Birds chirped.
Guards changed shifts on the walls.
Merchants opened morning stalls.
Children ran laughing through the square.
They knew nothing.
They had no idea that a crusade of holy zealots had declared war against them.
No idea that tens of thousands marched in their direction.
No idea that the Church planned to erase their kingdom entirely.
But Arcturus did.
He stood on the highest terrace of the palace, morning wind brushing through his midnight hair. His eyes glowed faintly, reading information from thousands of clones.
A slow smile crossed his lips.
"So… they finally moved."
His shadow swelled behind him.
"The Church marches."
His eyes narrowed in faint amusement.
"To cleanse my kingdom?"
His smile widened, something cold and ancient behind it.
"Let them come."
He lifted his hand.
Across the continent… dozens of clones opened their eyes at once.
A single command echoed through the shadow network:
"Prepare."
And in the depths beneath Valtarus…
The Lycans stirred.
The Vampire Lords took up arms.
The Nightborn donned their masks.
The blood pool rippled.
Dungeon fragments glowed.
Artificial cores pulsed.
The Demon Prince whispered:
"War?"
The shadows around him trembled.
"…I accept."
And Valtarus entered the most important chapter of its history.