The Castle in the middle of nowhere.

"It's impossible to take them by surprise." The simple statement was like a slap to his face. The General gave him a stern look, and he knew he would relent. "You might be a king, but don't expect us to obey any stupidity you blindly conceive."

"They have only ten thousand soldiers," he finally said, fixing his mithril crown. "We can use at least ten times more and easily crush them!"

"Crush them? Maybe. Easily? No." The large, winged Demon leaned back in his chair. "While it's true we have numerical superiority, they can obtain reinforcements and we have no idea what they have. Their fortress is also going to be a problem. I suspect they have some strange alchemy or magic that allows them to build permanent structures in the Shadow Realm."

"Then we have to simply retake the Dragon's Gate before they can muster any reinforcements in the first place!"

"Let's say we somehow manage to take that fortress, though I can't imagine it would be an easy fight. We may lose even half of our army, maybe more. How do you want to hold that fortress when another army arrives? The fortress won't help us because they will open portals right among our warriors this time. This is going to be a slaughter! You read the same reports as I did. You read the testimonies of various prisoners we captured and how proficient those warriors are. Our spies in Cridia and Berna had to run for their lives. RUN! Some of them even suspected that something was following them! We simply lost contact with the others, so we must assume they were captured or killed."

"Tsk... Time is our enemy. With each day, the Arcadians are getting stronger. Soon, we won't have any choice! What's worse, someone is definitely already plotting against me or even us!"

"Maybe... But they don't have anyone to replace us. The good thing about all this mess is that House of Ashes was extinguished..." The General sighed. "Only this stopped some factions from total rebellion."

"There is nothing to be happy about! That stupid bitch was important!" The king snarled and slammed his fist on the table. "What about the backup sacrifice?"

"The entire battalion is watching her. We can't risk losing her as well."

"Good..." The King of Devilkins looked at the map. "We were so close..."

"The prophecy..." The General started with a hushed tone but was instantly interrupted by the King.

"I know the Prophecy! We shouldn't have given any fixed time limit when we made it up!" The angry Demon slammed his hand against the stone table so hard that it cracked but miraculously stayed in one piece. "I know that we must hurry!"

The king took a deep breath and thoughtfully rubbed his pointy chin, still furious. "We can't wait for the Arcadians to become complacent; you say we can't attack them head-on. So what do you suggest, General? Asking them kindly?!"

"Attacking head-on seems desperate. It's a display of weakness."

"SO?!"

"I suggest diversion," the General finally replied after staring for a while at the map. "It seems they can't find other nodules or gates, even though their scouts almost stumbled upon them. That indicates they can't see through our camouflage spells."

"This is something I don't understand!" The King growled in growing impatience. "They seemed to target our spies who use the same magic flawlessly, but they can't actually detect the nodules? That makes no sense!"

"The only thing that seems possible to me is that our enemy does not have much experience with magic. Especially our magic." The General shrugged. "While it's important to understand the reasons for that, I believe that we should use this opportunity to attack their major cities–Wolf Manor, Glimmervale, and Westwood. While I would like to attack more of their cities, we can't afford to spread our army too thin. Once the relief forces are too far to aid the capital, we will teleport straight near the Dragon's Gate."

"I like the idea... However, those cities you mentioned... Aren't they Dungeons?" The King rubbed his horn.

"Most of their population lives in those cities! They can't possibly be Dungeons!" The General laughed. "No mortal could ever hope to subsume a dungeon to live there. Even we can’t do that!"

"You are right... It's a shame we can't even observe them!" The King finally shrugged with a tired sigh. "We have less than half a year. How long do you need for preparations?"

"Two months..." The General admitted begrudgingly.

"Then proceed. You better pray you are right."

•••

We spent a few days in Everlight, making sure everything went smoothly. In retrospect, I should have known that something like that was coming. I decided to use the Praetorians after Dauntless detected an army heading to the Everlight. Further scouting ensured me that it consisted of former Bernan Paladins, vagabonds, and those who managed to run from the battlefields and, of course, the slavers. In their naivety, they probably believed they could besiege the City or capture me. Their forces totaled ten thousand soldiers, but they were basically naked. Their weapons and armours were often battered or salvaged from the battlefields. They also had no logistical support, and their supplies were limited to what they could carry. Obviously, it was the last, desperate attempt to defeat me, born in the heads of those poisoned by hatred. I allowed their army to come to the Everlight and begin their laughable siege.

The entire battalion of my Praetorians, minus one company, which I deemed the least amount of soldiers to always protect my Queens, was waiting for them. The silent ranks of soldiers clad in pitch black and gold armours stood like monuments under the walls. Only the wind howled between the tips of their halberds, but not a single sun ray was reflected from their gear. Nine hundred Praetorians waited for the enemy, but the Bernans greeted that with cheers. They expected an easy victory and then hoped to threaten the city. However, they did not expect so many witnesses, which I know made them uneasy. The bystanders were allowed to see the fight with their own eyes. The walls and towers of the city were mostly filled with ordinary people who had never seen a battle in their lives. There were no cheers or shouts, only a tense and nervous silence. Those people knew they were safe because Dauntless, with his escort destroyers, was at the ready. They knew that the Fifth Legion had defeated an army that was many times stronger on their own. But they only had heard the stories about the mighty Praetorians, and everyone wanted to see them in action. However, by their nervous glares at the Legion hidden right behind the walls, I knew they feared that the fabled Praetorians would be wiped out.

The battle started like every other conventional battle. The enemy cast their most potent magic at my army, and like always, it was dispersed by magical shields. The Bernans expected that my soldiers would form a shield wall and tighten their ranks in the defensive formation, but instead, the Praetorians charged. The army of Bernan remnants stopped, surprised, but some of their units broke the ranks, thinking they could win easily. There was no victory for those who foolishly charged towards my Royal Guards. The black and gold halberds blurred in the air, followed by screams of agony and fountains of blood. A single Praetorian fought three or four Bernans at once without any issue. They parried every hit; they pushed back or outright killed anyone in their way. Every swing, thrust, and cut with their weapons was aimed to kill, and more often than not, it hit the mark. The movements of the Praetorians were efficient and precise, leaving no opening or even a chance to stop them temporarily.

The enemy soldiers were inexperienced and mostly young, but they were not kids. The men in their twenties were most likely to be knights or maybe Paladins in training. Truly, they were the last Bernans who still believed they were special, that they were people chosen by the gods. I could clearly hear their battle cries full of ridiculous nonsense. They believed they were invincible despite the bloody evidence before them, so they continued to attack. They pushed forward only to meet their doom at the hands of my Royal Guards. I knew I should pity them, but I couldn't find even a shred of compassion for them, knowing what they and their religion had done to so many people. For a moment I took a look at the crowd nearby. They were shocked, and most of them couldn't believe their eyes. Ten thousand soldiers like those who kept them all in the shackles of capricious gods and the zealous tyrants were no match for just a few hundred of my Praetorians... But the last soldiers of Berna simply couldn't win, and those people watching their fall probably couldn't understand that much. The level, skill, and gear differences were too great for numbers alone to compensate for. I wondered how many of them were going to die before they realised the futility of their actions and the madness that drove them to their deaths.

I watched the people stare down the city walls. I could almost tell all the different feelings they had. I could read in their eyes a mute question: what would happen to us if those soldiers were turned against us? I saw frightened looks that almost asked me if I wouldn't turn out to be worse than their previous masters. I sensed the fear of those people, but I couldn't blame them. The rumours they heard about the Praetorians turned out to be just underestimated tales and children's fantasies compared to the dread of what real Praetorians were capable of. My most Elite Death Lords dispatched the enemies quickly, leaving only a trail of death behind them. However, the most frightening thing was that despite all the blood and gore around them, their black and gold armours were unblemished by a single stain. There was no mercy or hesitation in the movements of my soldiers. They were undeterred by the screams of gravely wounded and dying that seemed to paralyse the rest of the enemy army.

My Praetorians regrouped and took another stance. With the slightly raised halberds in their hands, the most Elite Death Lords unleashed their aura. Only then did the Bernans start acting. Some began screaming and charging at the Praetorians in the mindless frenzy. Others, who discarded any hope, followed suit, calling the names of the dead and enslaved gods. They met their end swiftly, and some of them, even painlessly. Once again, the black polearms blurred during the busy and deadly harvest. Any illusion the attackers had was brutally shattered by my Royal Guards. Their smooth and practised movements, worthy of the veterans of countless battles, were observed in thoughtful silence by thousands of spectators on the walls. Some of them were obviously spies working for many foreign powers and nobles. Their lack of emotions betrayed them quicker than any investigation. Some of them would be allowed to bring the news to their masters, but most would be captured and questioned.

After half an hour of gruelling fighting, the Bernans realised how woefully they underestimated their chances. The Praetorians had already decimated their ranks, leaving one-third of the renegade army dead without losing a single soldier of their own. Only the Paladins could stand against my Royal Guards, but my knights were barely entertained even then. Two companies broke from the main force engaged with the Bernans, flanking the enemy army and pushing them against the walls of Everlight on one side. Only then did the remaining Bernans start realising they were captured in a deadly trap. They couldn't scale the walls of the fortress with Praetorians mercilessly cutting them down. Any attempts to fight the black-and-gold-clad knights were futile, and soon, less than half of the initial soldiers were still standing. I could feel their despair and hear their terrified voices as they pleaded to Jukk'nala and Hur'zhun to aid them.

Suddenly, the fighting ceased. The remaining Bernans scuttled back towards the walls to swap the wounded and exhausted soldiers for fresher ones. They tried to heal as many wounds as possible, but that brief break wasn't any mercy on my part. It was a deliberate action to shatter their will completely. A loud shriek descended from above, and a bright ball of flames gently touched the ground right behind the Praetorians, who stood motionless and uncaring. Silence covered the battlefield as uncertainty and fear of the Bernan soldiers mixed in the face of the entity that radiated the power of their God. However, Twirll stood right behind my Praetorians, giving the enemies death glares.

"Your God is dead," he finally spoke with the voice that once belonged to Jukk'nala. "My Master killed him. The same man you foolishly thought you could capture and defeat."

The last hope that Bernan soldiers had perished. Seeing them unable to fight wasn't a satisfying sight simply because their deities turned out to be giants made of paper. Some of them started crying and cursing the Phoenix in front of them, but I had enough of the farce at that point. Under my gaze, Twirll slightly bowed his massive head, and as he started transforming back into a small golden bird, he flew away and sat on my shoulder. Many people followed his flight, and once everyone realised who I was, dead silence befell the entire city.

"You can surrender, or you can die. I don't care." The wind carried my emotionless voice.

"You coward!" One of the Bernan soldiers, judging by his armour, a noble and probably a commander of that rag-tag army, cried back. "Come here and fight me if you know anything about honour!"

"Are you not only dumb but also delusional?" I asked, amused by his outrage. "You can't even scratch the armours of my Royal Guards and you believe you can fight me? Cry as loud as you want, but I have already extended the limits of my mercy towards scum like you. I'm done with you..."

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a blurred shape appear. Poor aim or deliberate action, whatever it was, it was going to miss me. My hand moved faster than any thought as I deflected the arrow with the sword that materialised in my hand. While it would miss me, it started to fly straight towards Luna. The arrow landed on the ground nearby with a thump, almost echoing in the dead silence. I tightened my grip on my sword's hilt and then tossed it towards the archer. It tore the air with a low sound and pinned the audacious archer to the ground with such force it embedded itself in one of the squat boulders scattered nearby. The man coughed blood and gripped the sword that had pierced through his stomach, but not even the nearby soldiers could take out the sword that was stuck in the stone behind the failed assassin. I said nothing more, but my Praetorians moved forward again, and seeing that, the remaining Bernans begged for mercy. Those who immediately dropped off their weapons were spared. Those foolish few who tried to fight were cut down.

And thus, the last army of Berna has met their doom...