The caravan crossed the final hills before the imperial capital without celebration or announcement. The banners of the Kingdom and the Empire fluttered in the wind, torn and crusted with dead frost.
The six heroes walked at the front in silence, while the few surviving soldiers struggled to keep pace behind them.
Ahead, the walls rose like gray giants, etched with glowing runes that pulsed under the weight of saturated mana.
There was no music.No welcoming horn.
Only the sound of boots sinking into fresh snow.
When they passed through the gates, the city seemed to pause.
Citizens watched from floating balconies and from streets lit by drifting arcane filaments. Their eyes searched for answers the heroes could not give.
Kara walked with her gaze lowered.
Emily held a fractured amulet in her hands—the final belonging of a fallen soldier.
Leonardo carried part of the shattered shield of an imperial legion.
Cael and Miriel, heroes of the Empire, walked with rigid tension, their hands half-open out of habit, ready for an attack that would not come.
Alejandro, by contrast, seemed to glow from within.
His breath burned in his chest.
But the Sword of Solaris at his side had lost all light.
Dormant.Exhausted.
A murmur spread through the crowd.
"Where are the legions?""Why did so few return?""And the creature…?"
No one dared say the rest aloud.
The heroes of the Kingdom were strangers here.
And that made them more unsettling.
The six were escorted not to the palace, but to the Great Temple of Kaenria, a white structure fractured into levels suspended in midair. The columns seemed to breathe mana. Platforms floated like leaves caught in an invisible current.
They were waiting there.
The Heralds.
Three figures whose very existence seemed to crack the air around them. Mana rippled in halos that were almost unbearable for anyone not blessed by divine power.
The heroes of the Kingdom felt the pressure immediately.
Breathing became heavier.The atmosphere thick, like water.
Cael and Miriel knelt with absolute reverence.
"Herald Aster," Cael greeted. "We have returned with information about the Frostblight."
The Herald in white robes inclined his head. His sunken eyes glowed with an unnatural light.
"And with fewer soldiers than those who departed," he said in a voice layered—human and not. "Sad. Inefficient. Predictable."
Emily felt her blood run cold.
Alejandro stepped forward.
"The creature was more intelligent than we expected. And stronger. But not invincible."
The Herald in blue robes studied him closely, as if reading every thread of his soul.
"And who are you?" he asked without emotion. "I sense divinity in you… but I expected this kind to be more useful."
Alejandro raised an eyebrow, faintly amused.
Emily felt a surge of fear.
She remembered the Herald of Light—always gentle, always kind.
But this Herald was different.
Leonardo held his breath.
The Herald in golden robes—the most imposing of them all—finally spoke.
"These are the four heroes of the Kingdom."
After hearing their report, the Heralds escorted them to request an audience with the Empress.
Naira awaited them in the throne hall, seated with the posture of a sovereign.
The golden Herald spoke without bowing.
"We require reinforcements to confront the Frostblight."
Naira narrowed her eyes.
"Why not use your own troops?" she asked softly. "The temple's faithful would surely die gladly for your cause."
She already knew the answer.
The Heralds wanted to exhaust her army.
They had already taken two of her legions for the temples… and now they were asking for more.
Shameless.
Herald Aster continued.
"We will gather forces. But first we must evaluate the emotional and spiritual stability of the faithful."
His gaze fell directly on Emily, Kara, and Leonardo…
And finally on Alejandro.
Then he turned back to Naira.
"They are blessings granted by the gods, Your Majesty. You must cooperate. It is for the salvation of your people."
The implication was clear.
The Heralds were claiming authority over the heroes.
Heroes attracted faith… and power.
Heroes survived while their soldiers died.
Control over them meant influence over the Empire.
Naira smiled elegantly.
But inside, her anger grew like a contained fire.
From her throne she studied them with the sharp gaze of someone measuring threats… and opportunities.
For a moment, her eyes met Alejandro's.
One second too long.
Alejandro felt something spark inside him.
The thought appeared uninvited—soft, arrogant, inevitable.
The empress should not be beyond my reach.
After all, I am chosen as well.
He tried to push the thought away.
Too late.
It had already taken root.
The golden Herald pressed again.
"Your Majesty… the situation is urgent."
Alejandro opened his mouth, likely about to ask for more support.
Emily squeezed his hand.
"No," she whispered.
And for the first time, he obeyed.
Naira raised a hand.
Silence fell like a tide.
"Failure is not a crime," she said, stepping forward. "But losing my men like this is. Tomorrow I will speak with my generals. For now… you may leave."
The heroes and the Heralds departed.
General Valmont was waiting outside. His eyes moved across the torn banners and the absence of his soldiers.
"Those bastards…" he whispered. "They lost an entire legion. The other cannot continue. Your Majesty…"
Naira looked at him.
There was no anger in her eyes.
Only calculation.
"Heroes," she said with unsettling calm. "How useless."
She turned toward the palace windows, where the capital's fractured skyline shimmered beneath the storm of mana.
"Tomorrow we will speak with Princess Elizabeth."
A faint smile touched her lips.
"I will ask her to march with her army."
Valmont nodded in silence.