Countless souls pressed forward, an unyielding river of humanity coursing through the cavernous tunnel. The air hung heavy, thick with the smell of sweat, fear, and the smoky trails of countless torches. Their flickering light danced across the rough-hewn walls, momentarily illuminating grotesque shadows that writhed and twisted like living things before dissolving back into the oppressive darkness. Each echoing footfall, a testament to the sheer scale of the army, reverberated through the confined space, a relentless drumbeat presaging the coming storm.

A figure, his weathered face etched with the harsh lines of countless campaigns, urged his steed forward. "Marquess Kaarlonen!" he barked, his voice roughened by years of issuing commands.

The Marquess, his stern features framed by silver hair and a neatly trimmed beard, turned in his saddle. His own mount, a magnificent beast clad in gleaming armor, snorted and pawed the ground impatiently. "Report," he commanded, his voice a low rumble that brooked no nonsense.

"The end of this accursed tunnel lies just ahead, Marquess."

"Good," Kaarlonen's lips curled into a predatory smile. "Send forth the Wyvern Raiders. Let them be the first to taste victory." His gaze hardened, turning as cold and unforgiving as the steel that adorned his breastplate. "Then, the Imperial Army Auxiliary Cohorts. Those who survive the initial onslaught will be put in chains. The Empire has need of slaves."

"It shall be done, Marquess." The commander spurred his horse and rode off, his shout of "Make way!" swallowed by the endless sea of soldiers.

From behind Kaarlonen, a hesitant voice broke through the rhythmic clang of armor and weapons. "Father, should we not dispatch scouts ahead? It seems unwise to march blindly..."

"Silence!" A second voice, brash and arrogant, cut him off. "Would you question our father's judgment? Do you doubt the might of the Empire?"

Kaarlonen raised a gloved hand, silencing his sons. "Jucifer, my boy, there is nothing to fear. We are the Empire! No force on this earth can stand against us. We are the storm that breaks upon the shore, the avalanche that crushes all in its path." He puffed out his chest, his voice ringing with unshakeable conviction. "I brought you both on this campaign to witness true power, to see firsthand the glory of our Empire. For six centuries, we have known nothing but victory. This day will be no different."

Jucifer, his youthful face a mask of unease, nodded silently. His brother, however, beamed with excitement, eager to prove himself worthy of their father's legacy.

As they drew closer to the tunnel's end, the light ahead intensified, promising an end to the stifling darkness. But the anticipation was tinged with a growing sense of foreboding, a chilling premonition that the light at the end of this tunnel might not herald victory, but something far more sinister