The rhythmic march of the Eternal Empire's soldiers reverberated through the lands as General Aleron and Atrius led their dark legions, city after city falling beneath their overwhelming might. Each conquest was a grim spectacle; banners bearing the red phoenix on a field of black replaced the emblems of proud cities. No cries for mercy were heeded, and no survivors were left in their wake. The generals were a force to be reckoned with, their reputation spreading like wildfire throughout the lands of Arland.
As the shadow of the empire loomed closer to the city of Novus, its walls and battlements bristled with the determination of its defenders. At its helm stood Arland's last bastion of hope, a general whose name whispered of valor and defiance – General Elidor. As a general with the strength of Mage, Elidor's prowess was well-known, but with three of Arland's finest already lost to the Empire's onslaught, he bore the weight of an entire kingdom's expectations.
In the heart of Novus, with desperation threatening to engulf him, Elidor's hope was rekindled by a sudden, unexplained event. The very fabric of space tore open, revealing a rift from which three venerable figures stepped forth. Clad in opulent robes that whispered tales of ancient wisdom and power, their presence filled the air with an undeniable authority.
"By the decree of the Grandmaster of the Mage Covenant," one declared with a voice as deep and steady as a mountain's roots, "we hereby forbid the Eternal Empire's further progression and cruelty."
The other two nodded, eyes sharp, assessing the battlefield, the soldiers, and the two imposing figures of Aleron and Ateius.
The generals, well-versed in the art of war, recognized the magnitude of the new threat. Their soldiers shifted uneasily, sensing the shift in the atmosphere. But retreat was not an option. The Empire's pride was at stake.
The battle that ensued was unlike any other. Arcane energy crackled and roared, tearing through the skies and earth alike. The might of the Mage Covenant was evident, their spells cutting through the Empire's forces with terrifying efficiency. Aleron and Ateius, despite their formidable power, found themselves outmatched and overwhelmed. In a turn of events that sent shockwaves throughout both armies, the generals were captured, while the remnants of their once-proud force were either slain or taken captive.
The Mage Covenant, having made their point clear, announced their intention to participate in peace talks. Their objective was clear - to maintain the balance and order of the land. Their intervention had changed the course of the war, at least temporarily.
When word of this humiliating defeat reached the ears of Lucius, his entire being seethed with an anger that could scorch worlds. His eyes, once cold and calculating, now blazed with an intense crimson red, reflecting an ancient fury.
"Insolent mortals!" he snarled, his voice echoing with malevolent energy. Turning to Veron, he ordered a halt on the offensive against Serathel. Without a second's delay, Lucius found himself in Clavis's hidden chamber. Before him stood the massive red arcane crystal, pulsating with the energies of millions of souls and immense power.
Placing his hands on the crystal, Lucius began to draw its energy into himself. The room quaked as raw power surged through him, his very form crackling and shifting. The cacophony of countless souls resonated in his mind as he absorbed their essence. His transformation was awe-inspiring, muscles restructuring, bones crackling, and power cascading around him. He felt his strength magnify exponentially. He now possessed a power that could effortlessly decimate even the Grand Mage with a flick of his fingers.
Despite the vast influx of energy, Lucius was acutely aware that his current strength was but a mere fraction of his past glory. However, it was more than sufficient to secure his dominion over the island and re-establish the dominance of the Eternal Empire. The world would soon witness the wrath of a god.