As the skies above the seaport darkened, Emperor Beylon and his three commanders appeared, hovering high above the battlefield. Below, chaos reigned.
Warriors from both Hazorh and Lehzin clashed fiercely, their weapons gleaming under the torchlight, while spells exploded in vibrant bursts across the docks and along the shore.
Emperor Beylon observed in silence, his gaze sweeping over the blood-soaked ground where men and women fought, fell, and rose only to fight again.
He watched his own warriors locked in ferocious combat, pushing forward even against fierce Lehzin resistance. The sight stirred something in him—a feeling of futility.
With a somber look, Beylon murmured to himself, "This... this is exactly what I hoped to avoid." He thought of the families waiting back in the city, the children who knew not if their fathers, mothers, or siblings would return.
