The Calm Before the Storm
The Eastern pass loomed ahead, its jagged cliffs casting long shadows over the narrow valley. The allied armies were positioned strategically—Eastern soldiers and their spirit animals held the high ground, their luminous forms glowing faintly in the pre-dawn light. Arabic warriors, cloaked in crimson and gold, flanked the sides, their witchcraft wards shimmering like translucent shields.
Leon stood atop a small ridge, his eyes scanning the horizon. His forces were stationed in the valley below, ready to bait Fleur's army into overextending. Bjorn and Nathan stood at his side, their expressions tense but resolute.
"Do you think Atlas knows about this?" Bjorn asked, his gaze distant.
Leon's jaw tightened. "I don't know. But whether he does or not, we can't rely on him anymore."
Nathan's hand rested briefly on Leon's shoulder. "You've got this, Leon. Focus on what's ahead."
Leon nodded, taking a steadying breath. "Let's finish this."
---
Lysander's Calculations
In the heart of Fleur's advancing army, Lysander rode at the front, his emerald eyes gleaming with anticipation. Behind him, the relic pulsed faintly, carried in an enchanted chest by four sorcerers. Its power radiated through the ranks, invigorating Fleur's soldiers.
"The Mondell brat thinks he's clever," Lysander mused, his tone light but laced with malice. "Luring us into the pass like this... It's almost endearing."
A scout rode up beside him, bowing deeply. "Your Highness, the allies have fortified their position. They're waiting for us."
Lysander smirked. "Of course they are. Let them think they've outmaneuvered us. We'll show them what real power looks like."
He gestured toward his sorcerers. "Prepare the relic. When the battle begins, I want them to see what happens when you defy Fleur."
---
The Battle Begins
The first clash erupted as Fleur's vanguard entered the pass. The Eastern soldiers released their spirit animals, the luminous beasts charging into the fray with precision and ferocity. The valley echoed with the clash of steel and the roars of battle, the air thick with the scent of sweat and blood.
Leon's forces held their position, drawing Fleur's attention with calculated skirmishes. From the flanks, Arabic warriors unleashed their witchcraft, fiery spells raining down on the enemy's rear lines. The battlefield was a chaotic symphony of light and shadow, order and chaos.
Bjorn fought fiercely at Leon's side, his blade a blur as he cut through enemy soldiers. Nathan coordinated the troops, his commands sharp and efficient.
Leon's Guide abilities pulsed faintly, keeping his soldiers steady despite the mounting pressure. "Hold the line!" he shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos.
---
Atlas's Interference
In the shadows of the forest overlooking the battlefield, Atlas crouched silently, the stolen map tucked safely in his belt. He had followed Fleur's forces to the pass, knowing this was where the allies would make their stand.
His sharp eyes caught sight of the relic, its faint glow pulsing even from this distance. A surge of anger and determination welled up in his chest. "This ends now," he muttered.
Atlas moved swiftly, targeting key Fleur officers and disrupting their formations. His blade gleamed in the dim light, each strike calculated and precise. Though he remained hidden, his presence was felt—a phantom in the chaos, unraveling Fleur's strategy one strike at a time.
---
The Relic Unleashed
As Fleur's forces began to falter, Lysander raised his hand, signaling the sorcerers to activate the relic. The crystalline artifact pulsed brighter, its energy rippling through the battlefield like a shockwave.
Leon stumbled as the ground beneath him trembled. "What's happening?" he shouted, his heart racing.
Bjorn grabbed his arm, steadying him. "The relic. It's amplifying their power."
Fleur's soldiers surged with renewed strength, their movements faster and more precise. The allies struggled to hold their ground, their formations crumbling under the relentless assault.
From his vantage point, Atlas's jaw tightened. He knew the relic's power could not be allowed to spread. With a deep breath, he charged toward the sorcerers, cutting through Fleur's ranks like a blade through water.
Lysander spotted him, his smirk faltering for the first time. "De Luna," he hissed. "So the prodigal Duke returns."
Atlas reached the relic's pedestal, his blade slicing through the closest sorcerer. The artifact's glow dimmed slightly, its power disrupted. But Lysander was quick to counter, summoning his personal guard to protect the relic.
The battlefield descended into chaos as Atlas and Lysander clashed. Their blades met with a resounding clang, the force of their strikes reverberating through the air.
---
A Moment of Clarity
As the battle raged on, Leon caught sight of Atlas in the distance. His heart clenched at the sight—the man who had abandoned him, now fighting with a ferocity that bordered on desperation.
"Atlas," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the din of battle.
Bjorn followed his gaze, his expression hardening. "It doesn't change anything, Leon. Focus."
Leon forced himself to look away, his resolve hardening. "He's not fighting for us. He's fighting for himself."
But deep down, a spark of hope refused to be extinguished.