The borderlands of Valerius were never meant to be a battlefield for monsters. Historically, the Grey-Watch Garrison was a place of quiet exile, a collection of stone towers and rusted gates where the "unwanted" soldiers of the crown were sent to wither away. But as the sun dipped below the jagged horizon of the Iron Mountains, the soldiers atop the battlements didn't see the usual mountain mist. They saw a rolling tide of crimson ozone.
[System Notification]
Area Detected: Grey-Watch Garrison (Borderlands)
Objective: Establish a Foothold
Warning: Anti-Magic Field detected. High-Paladin presence confirmed.
Arthur Fenric stood at the edge of the forest, his charcoal-grey blade slung low at his hip. He wasn't hiding. The red wolf insignia on his chest glowed with a predatory heat, a beacon for the two ancient races standing at his back. To his left, Lady Elara and her vampires drifted like shadows; to his right, Sköll and the werewolves paced with a kinetic energy that cracked the frozen earth beneath their claws.
"They've activated the cold-iron dampeners," Lady Elara hissed, her eyes narrowing at the glowing blue runes etched into the garrison's walls. "My kin cannot approach those stones without their essence being drained."
Arthur looked at the high towers. He could see the silhouettes of the King's Inquisitors—the men who had called him a "disgrace" and a "mistake". They thought their golden relics and anti-magic chains were enough to contain a prince who had spent months rewriting his own soul.
"The dampeners were built to stop traditional mana," Arthur said, his voice cold and vibrating with the World-Pulse. "They aren't built for a high-performance engine running on a legacy."
[Skill Activated: Tyrant's Command (Lv. 2)]
Arthur raised his hand, and a surge of blood-red energy erupted from his palm, branching out like lightning to touch every member of his pack. The vampires didn't flinch; the werewolves didn't howl. Instead, their eyes turned a uniform, piercing crimson.
[Effect: Crimson Shroud Active]
Status: All allies within 50 meters gain 60% resistance to Anti-Magic suppression.
"Sköll, take the gates," Arthur commanded. "Elara, clear the battlements. Leave the Commander to me."
The assault didn't start with a horn blast; it started with a vacuum. Arthur used Ghost-Flicker, but he pushed the skill past the human visual processing limit. He didn't just move; he vanished into a mist of red embers, reappearing fifty yards ahead, right at the base of the massive oak-and-iron gates.
[Skill Used: Gravity Palm (Lv. 8)]
He slammed his open hand into the center of the gate. The impact didn't just break the wood; it created a Crimson Kinetic Distortion that pulled the iron hinges straight out of the stone. The gates didn't fall inward—they imploded.
"Forward!" Sköll roared, his silver fur now wreathed in red kinetic energy. The werewolves lunged through the wreckage, their Day-Walker status allowing them to move with a ferocity the sun-dazed guards couldn't track.
Inside the courtyard, the chaos was surgical. The vampires moved like Scarlet Wraiths, passing through the soldiers' spears and reappearing behind them to drain their mana cores. The High-Paladins, draped in gold and white, tried to raise their holy crosses, but the light was sucked away by the oppressive weight of Arthur's presence.
Arthur walked through the center of the fray, his blade still sheathed. Every soldier who lunged at him was met with a pulse of Tyrant's Roar that sent them flying backward into the stone walls. He was looking for one man: Commander Valen, the man who had personally escorted him to the border for his "leave of absence" three months ago.
He found him on the stairs of the command tower, clutching a heavy iron-grip mace. Valen's face was pale, his eyes wide as he looked at the prince he had once mocked.
"Arthur... what have you become?" Valen stammered. "This is dark magic. This is a betrayal of your bloodline!"
"My bloodline discarded me, Valen," Arthur said, stepping over the broken remains of a cold-iron chain. "I didn't betray it. I evolved it."
Valen roared and swung the mace, the weapon glowing with a blinding white light. Arthur didn't dodge. He reached out and caught the head of the mace with his bare hand. The holy energy hissed against his skin, but the Crimson Ossification held firm.
[Skill Used: Magnetic Hemorrhage (Lv. 7)]
The white light on the mace began to turn pink, then deep red, as Arthur literally stripped the mana out of the weapon and pulled it into his own veins. Valen watched in horror as his legendary relic turned to dull, grey lead in his hands.
"The King wanted me alive to learn the 'secret' of my mana," Arthur whispered, leaning in close. "Go back to the capital. Tell my father the secret isn't in my blood. It's in the system he was too arrogant to see."
Arthur released the mace and delivered a short-range Gravity Palm to Valen's chest. The Commander was launched backward through the heavy wooden doors of the tower, landing in a heap of broken furniture.
[Level Up: Crimson Tyrant Style (Lv. 6)]
[Level Up: Intimidation (Lv. 24)]
Arthur turned back to the courtyard. The fighting had stopped. The garrison soldiers were on their knees, disarmed and broken. The vampires and werewolves stood in a circle, their eyes fixed on Arthur, waiting for the next command.
[Diplomacy Check: Success]
[Territory Acquired: Grey-Watch Garrison]
Arthur looked up at the flag of Valerius flying from the highest turret—a golden sun on a field of blue. He raised his hand, and a bolt of red lightning shredded the silk, leaving only the charred pole behind.
"This is no longer a borderland," Arthur declared, his voice carrying to every ear in the garrison. "This is the first gate of the Crimson Empire. We don't take leaves of absence anymore. We take ground."
The System pinged one final time for the night, a notification that would have made the King's blood run cold if he could see it.
[New World Event Triggered: The Rebellion of the Wolf]
Current Objective: March on the Capital (0/5 Cities Taken)
Reward for Completion: The Crown of the Red Sun.
Arthur pulled his charcoal-grey sword from its scabbard, the metal humming with the combined essence of the vampires, the wolves, and his own "Disgrace". He looked toward the heart of the kingdom. The engine was roaring, and for the first time in history, the people of Valerius were going to see the sun rise red.