The Kingdom of Aelthor lay on the precipice of an uncertain dawn, its heart heavy with the knowledge that darkness was no longer a distant threat—it had arrived, with an army of twisted creatures and ruthless commanders poised at the kingdom's borders. In the Royal Military Headquarters, the scene was a tense cacophony of strategists, officers, and guild representatives, each pouring over detailed reports of enemy positions and internal defenses, all under the watchful gaze of King Varyndor himself.
The kingdom's once-peaceful towns and cities were now gripped by a silent terror that permeated the streets, reaching from the bustling market squares to the humblest villages. Word had spread quickly through an urgent announcement by the Adventurers Guild and Mercenary Guild. The adventurers, usually seen exchanging stories of distant lands and battling small bands of monsters, were now tasked with a mission they'd never faced: to aid in a kingdom-wide evacuation and prepare for a fight against an enemy the likes of which the kingdom had never seen.
At the edges of Aelthor, the frontlines lay tense, shimmering under a wavering protective shield that had once felt impenetrable. In the early hours, civilians, led by guards and guildsmen, moved hurriedly through the cities, packing only what they could carry. For the younger ones, the threat was frightening but surreal—a bedtime story suddenly come to life. But for the elderly, it was a haunting echo of tales told and re-told, of wars fought long ago and forgotten battles against forces even the oldest texts could scarcely describe.
In the capital, high above the city, the King surveyed the latest reports with a grim resolve. Around him, the best minds in strategy and warfare worked frantically, calculating their next moves as if the kingdom's very heartbeat depended on it. And in truth, it did. All projections indicated that the enemy forces vastly outnumbered them, each creature—the dark-eyed Darkcalipers—born of malice and relentless in strength. Unlike the kingdom's well-trained forces, they appeared almost mindless, moving in eerie silence except for the whispered orders of their commanders. The numbers on the enemy's side were staggering, with each commander capable of wielding hundreds of Darkcalipers, and two enemy generals overseeing the eastern front alone.
The Adventurers Guild, in an unprecedented move, opened its doors wide, calling on everyone capable of wielding a sword, spell, or staff. Messages were sent to the remotest outposts, where veterans and novices alike put aside rivalries to answer the call.. It was an all-hands effort, the first of its kind since the dark times 400 years prior—a memory most had thought relegated to the pages of history.
From the shadows, the King's voice rang out over his people like a beacon. His presence alone was a symbol of strength, his calm eyes reflecting the battles yet to come. But in those rare, fleeting moments, he allowed himself a grave thought: This might be the kingdom's last stand. He might not live to see the dawn, nor his people the return of peace.
And yet, there was no time for fear. From the highest-ranking officer to the youngest soldier, to the terrified civilians clutching the hands of their loved ones, the people of Aelthor knew they had no choice but to stand. The final battle loomed, and as the King himself left the headquarters to join his soldiers on the frontlines, an unspoken vow united them all. The fate of Aelthor would be written here, in courage, hope, and the steadfast resolve to face whatever darkness dared to challenge their light
On The Wall of front gate standing king Varyndor stand up looking at enemy little smile on his face, they are tasting us ha , king with serious reaction announce the message- you are in the territory of Aelthor kingdom if you pursue with any further, we have no choice to eliminate you all so tell me your business here
As the heavy air of battle weighed down upon the kingdom, an urgent voice crackled through the King's communication badge.
"Your Majesty, we recommend attacking now before they bring down the towers further!"
The King sighed, looking at the protective barrier flickering weakly above. "Oh, I see we're running out of options."
Just then, another call came through, this time from the Church. "Your Majesty, the super high-tier magic is prepared and awaiting your command."
A surge of power and hope rippled through the King. Raising his voice in solemn invocation, he declared, "In the name of the Creator, the Guardian Deity, I offer this prayer. Grant protection to your children and rid us of this dark corruption. Heaven's Judgment, begin!"
In an instant, the sky roared to life. Massive bolts of lightning split through the dark clouds, cascading down onto the enemy with divine fury. The explosive force toppled hundreds of Darkcalipers, sending creatures sprawling and scattering in chaos. Smoke and flashes filled the battlefield as the troops watched in awe—a single strike had obliterated nearly 300 of the grotesque creatures in one fell swoop.
An officer nearby gasped. "Your Majesty, this is our moment! We should attack while they're scattered!"
The King held up his hand. "Wait." His eyes narrowed as a dark shadow crept into the periphery of the battlefield.
Out of the mist, more Darkcalipers emerged, crawling over the bodies of their fallen comrades with disturbing ease. These reinforcements filled the ranks just as quickly as they had been decimated, almost as if materializing from the very shadows of the fallen.
Soldiers around the King felt their hearts sink. "What is this...?" one of them muttered, his face drained of color. "They just… appeared from nowhere."
The King clenched his jaw. "So much for the Church's 'super high-tier magic,'" he murmured. Despite the divine intervention, it was clear this was no ordinary enemy force. Dark magic, corruption, or some other sinister force was giving the enemy an endless supply of soldiers.
Determined but composed, he turned to his officers. "Prepare for what's next," he commanded. "The true test is only beginning."