There was a gargantuan silver city, its walls towering high enough to scrape the highest sky. The city glowed with a majestic, otherworldly light, as though forged from moonfire and starlight rather than stone. Before its walls stretched ranks upon ranks of warriors clad in radiant gold—an army so immense it seemed to flood the plain itself.
At first glance, the warriors appeared human. Upon closer inspection, the illusion shattered. They were larger, broader, their physiques honed beyond mortal limits. Some stood nearly twice the height of ordinary men, their muscles coiled with terrifying strength. A strange energy shimmered across their forms, a faint golden aura crawling over armor and flesh alike, radiating power unmistakably supernatural. These were not merely soldiers. They were weapons made living.
And there were tens of thousands of them.
Yet even among such overwhelming might, tension spread like a quiet sickness. It curled in their chests, tightened their throats, and lingered behind their eyes. Veterans who had survived countless campaigns felt it first. Recruits sensed it next, though they did not yet understand why.
Then, without warning, the earth trembled.
At first, it was subtle—a faint vibration beneath their boots, like distant thunder rolling through buried stone. Weapons rattled. Armor chimed softly. Some warriors shifted their footing, instinctively bracing.
The tremor deepened.
The air thickened, heavy and oppressive, as though the world itself recoiled. Breathing became laborious. Hearts pounded harder, faster, driven by an instinct older than thought.
Something was coming.
And then they saw him.
He stood atop a fractured stone outcrop near the battlefield's center, as if the land itself had risen to elevate him. His body was entirely cloaked in dark robes that drank in the light around them. Upon the fabric of his back, a single word was engraved in sharp, ancient script.
ASEM
The only part of him visible was his eyes—burning with a cold, luminous blue, like fragments of the sky torn free and bound within his skull. They glowed steadily, mercilessly.
His posture was relaxed. Casual.
As though he had wandered into a training field rather than facing the full military might of the Silver City.
Those sky-blue eyes drifted across the army, not pausing on individuals. He saw formations, fault lines, strategies already doomed to collapse. His lips curved faintly—not into a smile, but something closer to disappointment.
"Fools," he murmured, his voice barely louder than the wind.
The next instant, he stepped forward.
He fell from the stone outcrop—higher than a skyscraper—yet landed without sound, touching the earth like a drifting feather.
Without a word, Asem began to walk.
Then he accelerated.
What stood before the army was only one man, yet every warrior felt it—the sensation of a tsunami racing toward them, vast enough to swallow the world whole.
The soldiers roared.
War cries thundered across the plain as golden warriors surged forward, using sound and fury to drown out fear. The ground shook violently as thousands charged in unison, weapons raised, a living avalanche of gold.
Asem's speed exploded.
A sonic crack split the air as he vanished from sight and reappeared within the front lines. His arrival detonated the ground, flinging warriors skyward like broken dolls.
He struck with open palms, spinning kicks, and brutal precision. Bones shattered. Armor crumpled. Bodies were hurled aside, lifeless before they hit the earth. A single sweeping kick sent half a dozen golden warriors crashing through stone as if struck by fate itself.
He moved deeper.
Faster.
Death followed in his wake.
A warrior managed to flank him, swinging a massive sword bathed in crackling lightning. The blade moved with astonishing speed and power—but Asem caught it between two fingers.
He drove his elbow into the warrior's chest.
The impact caved the armor inward, pulverizing bone and heart alike. The body collapsed before it even struck the ground. Asem seized the sword, lightning roaring brighter under his grip, and turned it against its former allies.
Golden warriors fell in droves as lightning exploded outward with every strike.
After five devastating swings, the blade shattered. Asem hurled the broken hilt through an enemy's skull, then seized a flaming halberd mid-swing and continued the slaughter without pause.
He moved like flowing water and falling steel—beautiful, merciless, final.
Weapons rained toward him from all sides. He twisted, deflected, or ignored them entirely. Blades glanced harmlessly off his robes or passed through empty air where he had been a heartbeat earlier. Every movement was pure economy—no wasted effort, no hesitation.
The golden army was being massacred.
Yet their will did not break.
"Fire line—now!"
One hundred golden warriors formed ranks, standing shoulder to shoulder. They extended their hands forward as energy gathered, roaring and unstable. A blinding wave of searing power surged forth, consuming everything in its path.
Some of their own were caught in the blast and vaporized instantly.
It was a price they were willing to pay.
Asem did not move.
He raised one hand, drawing sky-blue energy into his palm. Then he unleashed it—a single concentrated beam that collided with the combined might of a hundred warriors.
The explosion shattered the air.
For an instant, the forces clashed evenly—then Asem's beam overwhelmed theirs, tearing through the golden wave and vaporizing every warrior in its path.
Shock rippled through the remaining soldiers.
Then their eyes glowed brighter.
Fear was burned away, replaced with fanatic resolve. Without hesitation, they charged again, abandoning all regard for their lives.
Asem continued fighting.
Bodies shattered. Explosions erupted. Destruction rained in every direction.
Until finally—
Silence.
Asem stood amidst the ruin, breathing steady, unmarked by blood or dust. He glanced briefly at the carnage around him, then lifted his gaze to the towering silver gates.
"It is time for you to show yourselves," he said quietly.
Light flared.
Seven figures emerged from the city, rising with wings of radiant gold. Divine auras poured from them, their presence crushing, demanding reverence. Mortals would have bowed instinctively.
Asem looked upon them with only disdain.
"Using them to drain my energy," he said coldly. "You knew they had no chance. Your kind has not changed—treating those who trust you as disposable pawns."
The golden figure at the center spoke, its voice reverberating across the battlefield.
"Everyone is born with a purpose. Theirs was to die in our name. And yours is to bow to our power—like a good human."
The word human was spoken as one might name a pet.
Asem smiled faintly.
"Even after all these years," he said, "you still do not understand humanity's determination… its courage… its will…"
His eyes blazed.
"…and its wrath."
The ground erupted.
Energy exploded outward as flames consumed the earth. From within the inferno rose a towering figure—its body forged of molten red and black, radiating overwhelming power. Lava-like muscles cracked and shifted. Flame-shaped hair whipped violently as embers drifted through the air.
A burning halo hovered above its head.
Its face twisted into a feral roar, jagged teeth illuminated by an inner blaze.
"How did you obtain it?!" one of the golden figures shouted, panic shattering its composure.
Asem said nothing.
He pointed forward.
That was enough.
The monstrous entity charged, crushing winged figures like insects—some shattered in its grasp, others swallowed whole. There was no battle. Their deaths were swifter, more pitiful, than those of the golden warriors below.
Asem smiled as he turned toward the silver gates.
"Time to burn."
The creature opened its maw.
Golden energy gathered, condensing into a massive beam—a cannon of annihilation that blasted the silver gates into fragments.
The sky and earth trembled as though a sacred taboo had been broken.
Asem only smiled wider as he stood atop the monster's head and advanced with it toward the fallen city.