As the hours passed, Venarayer concluded the challenging task of integrating her father's soul. When she opened her eyes, they radiated with a potent, ominous energy as she looked up at the Demon King. "What are your instructions?" she asked, her voice steady and resolute.
"Mobilize three hundred warriors. Lead them deep into enemy territory and await my command there."
"Three hundred warriors? That's a relatively small force. How can we penetrate the human border patrols without being detected?"
"As you discreetly move west under the veil of night, the rest of us will advance eastward."
"I understand. What is our objective once we cross the border?"
"Disperse those three hundred warriors. Deploy them to target every major faction throughout Dawnfall."
"But... that is a death sentence."
"Exactly."
Venarayer stood motionless, trying to grasp the full scope of Raiking's intricate plan. Why would he sacrifice three hundred men for seemingly nothing? Even if they penetrated the defenses of the formidable sects, they didn't possess the power to eliminate any true masters. Logic suggested those warriors would be more effectively used in a direct assault to weaken the human forces through open warfare.
Yet defiance had just reduced her father to ashes. Silence was the only refuge left.
She lowered her head in submission. "I will carry out your command, Demon King."
With unwavering determination, Venarayer made her way toward the war camps. As she crossed the boundary, the shadows enveloping Raiking's throne flickered, revealing Arshka stepping into the glow of the torches.
"She doubts your plan."
"Perfect. When the full weight of reality shatters her expectations, she'll never doubt me again."
Venarayer was driven by relentless ambition, always seeking imperfections in even the most impeccable strategies. To secure unwavering loyalty from someone like her, a ruler must allow them to completely misinterpret the situation. Only when the trap is sprung will they realize how limited their perspective truly was.
Setting aside thoughts of the formidable woman, Raiking turned his gaze westward.
"Have the scouts returned?"
"Yes, my Lord. Dia'Tia has reached the core of Dawnfall."
"The capital..." Raiking mused, a sinister smile playing on his lips. "It's been too long since I last walked those streets. Summon Primnear, and prepare for the eastern invasion."
"At once, Demon King!"
As Arshka moved to leave, Raiking's voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. "Remember, everything must unfold flawlessly. You hold the key to the entire war."
"I will not fail you."
In a blaze of fiery energy, Arshka vanished through the massive doors, embarking on a journey that would test the very resolve of the human clan.
---
Meanwhile, miles away, two other allies were on the verge of uncovering their own truths. The carriage transporting Dia'Tia and Elinea finally passed through the gates of humanity's most magnificent city.
One could immediately recognize it as the capital—a sanctuary separated from the rest of the world. The cobblestone streets were impeccably clean. There were no shabby merchant tents set up along the sidewalks; instead, there were orderly, towering rows of shops.
These were not the typical stalls found in a border village. They dealt exclusively in the finest materials.
The rich aroma of alchemy wafted from upscale apothecaries, where elves with pointed ears conducted profitable business with premium herbs. Down the street, blacksmiths didn't even need to wield their own hammers. Several dwarf-owned shops employed advanced magical technology, with automated enchantments rhythmically hammering hot iron on anvils.
Even the smiles of the citizens felt completely foreign to Dia'Tia. As a soldier, she could only manage a half-smile after burying fallen comrades the morning following a night raid.
"I don't know if I should feel proud or resentful," Elinea said softly. "On one hand, we sacrifice to provide them with this peace. On the other hand, their eyes have never once gazed North."
Dia'Tia watched the people walking by. What Elinea said was accurate. Their attention was entirely focused on their immediate, secure reality—watching their children play, accompanying their elders, or adjusting their immaculate professional robes on their way to work.
"They live in a completely different world," Dia'Tia responded. "There is no need for resentment. Their battles aren't fought with swords, so how could they ever truly empathize with what we experience?"
Elinea remained silent for a moment, absorbing the significance of those words.
"What you just said..." Elinea murmured, looking out at the crowds. "It reminds me of what Raiking once told the Compassionate General during their most inebriated nights: 'When the drums of war sound, only those at the frontline can hear them...'"
The air inside the carriage was thick with an intense silence, abruptly broken when the wheels screeched to a halt, snapping everyone back to the present.
"We've arrived," called the driver, his voice cutting through the quiet.
Dia'Tia and Elinea exchanged a determined look. Every lead had brought them to this pivotal moment. Though Elinea couldn't comprehend why Dia'Tia was so fixated on dissecting the Demon King's psyche rather than directly confronting him, her trust in her commander's instincts was unwavering.
As they stepped out, the towering sanctuary of the Paladixtus Order loomed before them. Encircled by a massive wall that shut it off from the mortal realm, its solitary, formidable gate exuded an aura both welcoming and harshly judgmental. The oppressive atmosphere was only heightened by the presence of the two sentinels standing guard.
Immortal stage... Dia'Tia recognized instantly.
Few powers on the continent could boast the audacity to station Immortal-realm cultivators as mere gatekeepers. It was a chilling testament to their legendary status. If Arshara stood at the pinnacle, those who fought alongside her were undoubtedly formidable in their own right.
"State your business," one sentinel demanded.
"I seek an audience with one of the Twelve," Dia'Tia declared.
"Entry is forbidden," came the stern reply.
"She's not just anyone," Elinea insisted. "She's the Commander of the Vanguard Alliance."
The sentinel's expression remained unmoved. "Even if she were the reigning Queen herself, these gates would remain shut."
"You—!"
Dia'Tia placed a calming hand on Elinea's shoulder and stepped forward. "Tell them I am the wife of Raiking."
The sentinels stiffened, exchanging swift glances. With a brisk nod, one disappeared behind the massive gates, while the other fixed Dia'Tia with a wary gaze.
"Your claim will be delivered. I suggest you await a response at a nearby inn."
"I'll wait here," Dia'Tia said resolutely.
"As you wish," the sentinel replied.
---
Back in the present, Dia'Tia sat with her face buried in her hands, utterly mortified and avoiding the eyes of her guildmates.
"Master," Ezmelral teased, "I didn't know you had a new wife."
Morgal threw her head back, laughter erupting from her. "You have no shame," the Void Being mocked. "The valiant warrior heads to a cold, lonely demise, while his childhood love spins tales of marriage down in the South."