The sun had barely begun to rise over the shattered walls when the delegation of the Kingdom of Carpathia appeared on the horizon. Houses that once stood upright with disciplined order now lay twisted like hollow carcasses. It was as if the land itself had decided to expel its inhabitants—as if the Empire itself were being rewritten by forces no god wished to acknowledge.
Amid drifting smoke and the scattered cries of the few survivors, Lusian Douglas of Mondring rode beside Princess Elizabeth. His figure, wrapped in an almost unnatural stillness, contrasted with the iridescent light filtering through the saturated mana around them. Each step of his steed seemed to disturb the shadows, as if they clung to the ground to keep him anchored to reality.
Around them, 7,500 people advanced over fractured cobblestones.
4,500 soldiers marched in perfect formation, moving with the relentless precision that defined Carpathia's army.3,000 civilians—priests, former adventurers, and volunteers who had followed Lusian and Elizabeth out of faith or desperation—moved at an uneven pace. Some ran ahead to help; others, slowed by fear, struggled to keep up with the cadence of the marching drums. The tension between discipline and improvised courage hung thick in the air: every step along those broken streets could trigger a panic or another collapse.
"Stay calm," Lusian whispered without taking his eyes off the road ahead.
A strand of shadow slipped from beneath his mount, spreading beneath the hooves of nearby horses and dispersing small bursts of chaotic mana.
"No one touches the princess."
Elizabeth nodded quietly. Though her posture remained composed, her hands trembled when she saw a tree, corroded by warped energy, twist upon itself as if it were trying to breathe. The priests began evacuating the survivors. Thunder, the lightning steed, and Umber, the living shadow with crimson eyes, guarded the flanks like heralds of an ancient magic.
Warriors and priests battled mid-level creatures emerging from the ruins, while Lusian remained one step behind the princess, tracing dark barriers with surgical precision to deflect attacks that slipped through the defensive lines. He did not intervene to slay the beasts; he intervened only to ensure none reached Elizabeth.
Emily, only a few steps behind, watched him with a mixture of frustration and admiration. Every monster fell to the hands of the kingdom's heroes, not his. He never raised his sword.
And yet every decision he made tilted the course of the battle.
Their gazes met for only a moment. The romantic tension—sharp as a blade—hung suspended between them. Lusian looked away before she did. His silence carried more weight than any reply.
The cries of survivors, mingling with the roars of creatures, formed a macabre symphony that accompanied the procession's advance. Lusian sensed something in the air: the saturated mana was not only corrupting nature—it was awakening an ancestral fear within humans. Every sword strike, every spell cast by the priests increased the condensed faith placed in the gods, though none of them yet understood the plan hidden behind the catastrophe.
"This place…" Elizabeth murmured, staring at the rubble. "So many lives…"
"We will take care of them," Lusian replied firmly, and for a brief instant warmth crossed his gaze before fading back into the shadow that always surrounded him.
The journey continued, and as the procession moved away from the city, the ruins fell behind them—but the echo of devastation followed close at their heels. On the horizon, the capital of the Empire loomed, distant yet menacing: a nucleus where the true horror—and the Empire's heroes—awaited.
When the column passed through the old market district, the ground trembled beneath a scorching roar.
A level-65 chimera emerged from the ruins. Three heads—wolf, dragon, and serpent—spewed fragments of pure mana that warped the stone in their wake. Every breath distorted the air; every stride threatened the balance of the soldiers.
Former adventurers rushed toward the chimera with crude weapons, driven more by instinct than strategy. Professional soldiers reacted instantly, forming a line to block their path and prevent the civilians from sacrificing themselves in vain. Even so, a few managed to launch disorganized attacks against the monster, creating more chaos than damage.
But—
The chimera quickly recovered from Lusian's shadow wave, and its gaze locked onto the heroes, who had rushed forward without any coordination. Emily, wielding light magic, fired a blinding beam straight at one of the heads—the draconic one—while Alejandro wrapped the serpent tail in flames. Leonardo and Kara spread out across both flanks, searching for spectacular strikes to draw the creature's attention, but without synchronizing their movements.
The problem became immediate: the four heroes moved without rhythm. Emily's light partially blinded civilians trying to take cover. Alejandro's pillars of fire blocked the soldiers' vision. Leonardo nearly collided with a priest as he unleashed uncontrolled bursts of lightning. Kara, confident in her brute strength, tried to bring the chimera down head-on, ignoring the civilians still regrouping behind the line.
"Fall back, heroes!" Lusian shouted firmly as he kept one hand on Elizabeth, creating a dark barrier that absorbed part of the damage. The shadow spread like a veil that slowed the beast, while also forming a protective cordon around the civilians, preventing the disordered attacks from reaching them.
Thunder unleashed another electrical blast, this time aimed with precise accuracy at the chimera's hind legs, preventing it from charging the group again, while Umber and Larriet coordinated rapid strikes at vital points.
The disciplined soldiers formed a defensive semicircle, shields and enchanted spears locked together, while the priests cast synchronized mana barriers, weaving a protective web that controlled the battlefield—something the heroes, for all their power, could not replicate.
"Emily, focus the beam on the tail—not the civilians!" Lusian ordered. For the first time she obeyed, adjusting her magic with caution. Alejandro growled in frustration but was forced to wait for the opening Lusian had strategically created. Kara, finally understanding the tactic, drove the monster toward a flank weakened by the combined assaults of Thunder and Umber.
Within minutes the chimera was cornered. No civilians had suffered serious injuries. The soldiers held their line. And the heroes were beginning to understand that raw power could not replace coordination.
With a final roar, the creature fled toward the ruined harbor, leaving a tense silence in its wake.
Elizabeth exhaled softly as Lusian held her steady.
"Without your strategy, everyone would have fallen," she whispered, her voice carrying both pride and warning.
The heroes looked at Lusian with a mixture of respect and frustration. For the first time, they had learned that power without discipline could be as dangerous as a monster out of control.
Lusian had not raised a weapon except to protect the princess.
And yet he had won the battle—through strategy and the flawless synchronization of his troops.