The autumn wind roared through the city, sending fallen leaves swirling as if they had drifted in from some distant land.
Within the great city of Leyndell, a war among lords that had captured the attention of the entire realm had just come to an end.
Countless eyes had followed this conflict. The exalted Golden Lords and the shadowy figures lurking in the dark alike had watched closely. Yet the final outcome defied every expectation.
The chaotic clash of Demigods and heroes struck like crashing waves, shaking the world and carving a stirring chapter into the epic of the Shattering.
And yet, for all its fury, the battle produced no clear victor.
Those schemers who had hoped to see the land reduced to ruin were left disappointed.
The heroes of the Royal Capital and the Golden Lords were both gravely wounded in the fighting, all falling unconscious in the end.
Fortunately, their loyal retainers carried them away, preventing an even greater tragedy.
With both sides stripped of their leaders, there was no meaning in continuing the slaughter.
The two great armies, once brimming with momentum, saw their morale collapse in an instant. The Royal Allied Army had no choice but to accept defeat.
Bearing the humiliation of failure, they began their march home. Though battered in this brutal war, they still retained more than eighty thousand troops.
The backbone of the army remained intact. Most of its fighting strength was preserved. Given time to recover, it would still be a force to be feared.
As for the one who had set this calamity in motion, who had dealt devastating losses to the allied forces and nearly turned the Altus Plateau into a living hell
The Valkyrie Malenia should not, by all logic, have been able to withdraw so easily to the Haligtree.
Yet under the command of Finlay, the returning commander of the Cleanrot Knights, the Haligtree's army unexpectedly became the most formidable force on the field.
Wherever they passed, other factions scattered before them. No one dared to step forward and block their advance.
The lords who had intended to demand an explanation quickly abandoned the idea.
They hurriedly escorted their own rulers back to their territories, and then all fell silent.
One fact, however, was certain. The Scarlet Flower of Rot had ultimately failed to bloom.
The fertile Altus Plateau narrowly avoided being reduced to a land of suffering.
From scattered and fragmentary reports, it was learned that every lord who had taken part in the battle had suffered severe injuries and fallen into forced slumber.
Fortunately, their wounds were not beyond healing. All sides were sparing no effort in treatment, hoping their lords would awaken and recover.
Thus, a strange and delicate balance emerged.
Several powerful lords were injured to varying degrees, but none had suffered irreparable harm.
Once they awoke, each would still stand as a contender for the throne.
The war ended abruptly, so suddenly that no final victor was ever determined.
By the original strategic objectives, the Royal Allied Army was unquestionably the losing side. And yet every faction retained the strength to fight again.
A fragile calm settled over the land, as if pressed down by an immense weight. The air itself felt heavy, suffocating, yet no one could change the situation.
Those lurking in the shadows understood that beneath the surface calm, the Golden Lords still possessed immense and unshaken power, like towering mountains that could not be moved.
And within the resplendent Golden Order Dynasty, all knew one thing.
The throne of the Elden Lord would one day welcome its true master.
Beyond the open conflict, another baffling mystery demanded answers.
The crimson flower that symbolized terror and curse had clearly appeared before everyone's eyes. So why had it failed to bloom?
Had that flower blossomed within the Royal Capital, the end of the Golden Order Dynasty would not have been far off.
With questions weighing on them, those lurking in the shadows began investigating, quietly gathering information from every corner.
After sifting through layers of conflicting accounts, they gradually pieced together the outline of the truth.
An ancient hero of the Golden Order Dynasty, long since dead, had stepped forward. In the form of a heroic spirit, he unleashed astonishing power and used blazing golden fire to halt the blooming of the Crimson Flower.
From that day on, a name was carried far and wide.
The Golden Heroic Spirit of Leyndell.
Though no one knew his true name, his deeds were known. His legend was remembered.
The Royal Capital's defenders erected a sword monument within Leyndell. Citizens, soldiers, and heroes sang of the tale, while the returning Royal Allied Army carried his epic across the lands.
They became the finest of bards.
The Crimson Flower had been stopped from corrupting the earth. Millions were spared. The silent, lifeless world that might have come to pass never arrived. The light of the Erdtree still shone upon the land.
Within the city bathed in that radiance, noise and quiet existed side by side.
Suddenly, urgent hoofbeats rang through the streets. The Tree Sentinels were riding in at full speed.
A cool breeze brushed against their heavy armor, slipping through the gaps with a faint chill.
Mounted on powerful steeds, the Tree Sentinels cut an imposing figure. Under the sunlight, they looked especially majestic.
As they drew closer, the towering Erdtree came fully into view.
Beneath it stood a magnificent palace.
Its high walls were white as snow, traced with brilliant golden patterns.
Before the gates lay broken swords and shattered armor, remnants of the chaotic battle between the two armies days earlier.
Fragments of stone were scattered along the road.
Residents moved about as usual. Neither the city's defenders nor the invading troops had turned their blades on unarmed civilians.
On the ramparts, bright banners of the Golden Order Dynasty fluttered in the wind.
Knights in splendid armor passed through the streets, while solemn guards stood watch at the palace gates.
The Tree Sentinels reined in their horses before the entrance. The steeds gave sharp whinnies and came to a steady stop.
They dismounted in one fluid motion.
Nearby nobles, catching sight of the imposing Tree Sentinels, instinctively stepped aside.