As the sun dipped lower in the crimson sky, the Armond camp remained abuzz with activity. Soldiers fortified barriers, sharpened weapons, and kept their eyes trained on the forest's edge, where the shadows seemed to shift unnaturally. Micheal, still working with the recruits, wiped sweat from his brow as he finished another round of reinforcement. Breeze barked softly at his feet, sensing the tension in the air.
Nearby, Claude muttered, "You feel that? Like the air's heavier somehow."
Garrick, towering and stoic, let out a low growl. "It's the beasts. They're testing us—watching."
Micheal glanced toward the treeline, his sharp blue eyes narrowing. Though he didn't see anything, he couldn't shake the feeling of being watched.
Suddenly, whispers rippled through the ranks. The soldiers at the barricades stiffened, gripping their weapons tightly. From the forest, hulking figures began to emerge—green orcs, their muscular forms glinting faintly in the red light. They moved with a precision that sent chills through the onlookers.
"They're not charging," one recruit murmured. "Why aren't they charging?"
"They're testing the barrier," Garrick rumbled, his tone grim.
The lead orc stepped closer to the shimmering edge of the mana barrier. Its clawed hand extended, grazing the invisible wall. Sparks erupted at the contact, forcing the creature back with a guttural hiss. But instead of retreating, it turned to its companions, letting out a low, guttural growl. The others mirrored its movements, their glowing yellow eyes fixed on the camp.
Location: Armond camp, Central formations
Near the central formation glyphs, Magda stood alongside Edran, the senior mage. Her crimson eyes narrowed as she studied the orcs' movements.
"They're organized," she said softly. "This isn't random aggression."
Edran nodded, his expression shadowed with concern. "It's as if they're looking for weak points."
Without hesitation, Magda extended her hand over the central glyph. Mana flowed from her fingertips, illuminating the runes with a brighter glow. The barrier pulsed, its hum growing stronger.
"We'll encrypt the formations," she said. "Shift the rune patterns every ten minutes. It'll make the barrier harder to study."
Edran hesitated. "That'll increase mana usage significantly."
Magda's gaze didn't waver. "Then we use more mana stones. It's better to drain the reserves than risk a breach."
Edran frowned but didn't argue. He gestured to an aide nearby. "Bring additional stones from the reserves. Quickly."
As the soldiers watched, the glyphs began to shift, rearranging themselves into unpredictable sequences. The barrier's hum grew deeper, a tangible reminder of the mana coursing through it.
The soldiers murmured uneasily as the orcs continued their probing.
"Why aren't they attacking outright?" one soldier asked, his grip tightening on his spear.
"They're waiting for something," another replied. "And that's what worries me."
Micheal, now stationed near the barricades, overheard the conversation. Breeze whined softly at his feet, its oversized ears twitching.
"Stay focused," Micheal said to his fellow recruit, or rather to himself, his voice firm despite the nervous knot in his stomach. "If they find a weakness, it won't be because we weren't paying attention."
The recruits nodded, their postures straightening as they refocused on the treeline.
From the command tent, Duke Louis von Shelb watched the scene unfold with a practiced calm. His sharp blue eyes followed Magda as she worked alongside Edran, her movements precise and commanding.
"She's taken to leadership like it's in her blood," Louis murmured, almost to himself.
Count Drifter, standing beside him, glanced over. "It is," he said simply.
Louis's lips curved into a faint smile, though his gaze remained somber. "She carries more of the Emperor than even she realizes."
Drifter nodded. "Let's hope it's enough. These orcs aren't just testing the barrier—they're buying time for something else."
Louis's expression darkened. "And we don't have the luxury of waiting to find out what."
As the glyphs pulsed brighter, the green orcs began to retreat, their movements as calculated as their approach. They disappeared into the shadows of the forest, their glowing eyes the last to fade.
Magda exhaled softly, her hand resting on the central glyph. She turned to Edran, her voice calm but resolute. "They'll be back. This was only the beginning."
Edran nodded grimly. "We'll be ready."
But as Magda stepped away, her mind lingered on the warning signs. Something far more dangerous was lurking beyond the treeline—she could feel it.
Location: Armond camp, Gate
The camp buzzed with renewed energy as the Shelb reinforcements arrived, their polished formations and gleaming mana-based weaponry standing in stark contrast to the rugged defenses of Armond. Soldiers from every barrack paused in their tasks to watch. The human aura users from the north barracks murmured about the sophisticated mana tech, while the strength-based full-beastmen from the southern barracks exchanged quiet, appraising glances.
At the Rowdy Barracks, the half-beastmen soldiers leaned forward, their sharp senses taking in the precision of the Shelb formations. Claude's sharp hazel eyes narrowed as the golden wyvern at the head of the beast rider formation landed gracefully, its scales gleaming in the blood-red light of the sky.
"Golden wyvern," Claude muttered, awe in his voice. "You don't see one of those every day."
Garrick folded his massive arms, his bear-like features set in grudging admiration. "Ethan von Shelb. The Empire's hero himself," he rumbled. "Harold's grandson."
The Rowdy Battalion, notorious for their irreverent camaraderie, fell into an unusual hush as the Shelb battalion entered the camp. Their disciplined movements and the imposing aura of the riders left even the most seasoned soldiers in awe.
At the front of the formation rode Ethan von Shelb, his commanding presence undeniable. His golden blonde hair was cut short, its sharp edges framing his chiseled features. Dressed in immaculate military attire, his polished armor bore the insignia of House Shelb, and a faint sparkles of aura flickered around him, a testament to his prowess.
Ethan dismounted fluidly, his golden wyvern lowering its head respectfully as he stepped forward. Soldiers around the camp whispered excitedly, their admiration for the Empire's hero evident.
Count Drifter approached with a rare smile, his imposing figure a stark contrast to Ethan's crisp refinement.
"Commander von Shelb," Drifter greeted, his voice carrying the weight of respect. "Your reinforcements are a sight for sore eyes."
Ethan extended his hand, which Drifter clasped firmly. "We're here to assist," Ethan replied, his gaze sweeping across the camp. "Where do you need us?"
Drifter gestured toward the Rowdy Barracks. "Your beast riders and long-range fighters are best positioned near the Rowdy Battalion. My troops are vanguards—they'll take the brunt of the initial tide. Your men will cover us with ranged support."
Ethan nodded sharply. "Understood. My battalion is at your command."
As the Shelb troops settled into their assigned area, Duke Louis approached Ethan, his commanding presence drawing immediate salutes from nearby soldiers.
"Father," Ethan greeted, his tone respectful but tinged with curiosity. "I didn't expect to see you here in Armond's camp."
Louis's expression remained unreadable. "Diplomatic oversight," he said with a wave of his hand, as though that explained everything.
Ethan raised an eyebrow. "Diplomatic oversight? At a beast tide?"
"It's complicated," Louis replied, his tone nonchalant.
Ethan's sharp gaze didn't waver. "Complicated, huh? Well, it must be very complicated if it made you leave the estate and brought you all the way here."
Louis offered no further explanation, his lips twitching into a faint smirk that only deepened Ethan's suspicion.
Their conversation was interrupted by a group of recruits returning from their afternoon drills. Among them was Micheal, his platinum blonde hair tied into a messy manbun, loose strands sticking out haphazardly. His sweat-drenched shirt clung to him as he carried his new spear awkwardly, fatigue evident in his gait.
Claude and Garrick, walking beside Micheal, froze as their eyes landed on Ethan. The aura of command he exuded, combined with his reputation as the Empire's hero, left them momentarily speechless.
"The hero of the Empire!" Claude whispered to Micheal, his voice filled with awe.
Micheal glanced at Ethan and shrugged. "Yeah, that's Ethan."
Claude's jaw dropped. "The Ethan von Shelb? The guy who never loses?"
Before Micheal could respond, Ethan's sharp blue eyes landed on him. A grin spread across Ethan's face as he took in his youngest brother's appearance.
"Micheal," Ethan said, his voice tinged with disbelief. "Is that really you? Or did someone swap you for a vagabond?"
Micheal frowned, brushing stray hair from his face. "What's that supposed to mean?," then turned to Louis and respectfully said, "Father." Louis nodded at him.
Claude, unable to contain himself, leaned closer to Micheal and whispered, "You didn't mention your family was this… intimidating."
Micheal chuckled under his breath. "You never asked."
Garrick, his arms crossed, let out a low chuckle. "Well, Merchant Prince, it seems you're full of surprises."
Ethan gestured at Micheal, still grinning. "The manbun, for one. And this rugged look? From the boy who wouldn't wear a wrinkled shirt or leave the estate without his hair in a neat half ponytail?"
Louis, standing beside Ethan, interjected smoothly, "He's building character."
Ethan froze, his grin faltering. "You're using my line now?"
"It fits," Louis said with a faint smirk.
Micheal joined his father and brother in their walk across the camp.
Ethan crossed his arms, glancing between his father and Micheal with growing amusement. "Building character, huh? So that's the excuse now? What's next—are you going to say Magda's here to build character too?"
As if on cue, the trio turned a corner and found Magda kneeling beside a rune formation. Her wavy black hair was tied back loosely, and her crimson eyes flicked between the glowing glyphs as she adjusted their patterns with precise movements.
Magda looked up, startled to see them. For a moment, her expression betrayed her surprise, but she quickly composed herself. Rising to her feet, she nodded respectfully. "Your Grace. Lord Ethan."
Ethan blinked. "Magda? What are you doing here?"
Magda's tone was calm and collected. "Assisting with the formations."
Louis, his voice laced with approval, added, "She's been invaluable to the camp's defenses."
Ethan stared after her as she walked away, his mind racing. "So let me get this straight," he said slowly, turning to his father. "You brought your youngest son and your daughter-in-law to Armond's camp during a beast tide… to build character?"
Louis nodded without hesitation. "It's a valuable experience."
Ethan threw his hands up in exasperation. "You're unbelievable."
As they continued their tour of the camp, Ethan muttered under his breath, "First Micheal, now Magda. Who's next? Are you going to bring Adrian here to negotiate with the orcs and mother to teach floral arrangements to the soldiers?"
Louis raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained. "Not a bad idea. Adrian has a knack for morale boosting. As for your mother, I would prefer to leave her out of military matters."
Ethan groaned, but the faint smirk on his face betrayed his amusement. "I should've known you'd twist everything I said against me."
Louis chuckled softly. "It's character building, my son."
The camp had settled into a restless quiet after the arrival of Ethan and his battalion, yet the unease of the red sky and the faint crimson glow of the glyphs lingered like an unspoken warning. Soldiers patrolled diligently, their eyes scanning the edges of the barrier for any sign of danger.
Location: In the heart of the Red fog
Deep within the shadowed forest, the two-headed devil crouched on a throne of twisted roots, its crimson skin glistening faintly in the dim light. Both heads—eerily humanoid in form but grotesque in detail—had identical glowing crimson eyes that seemed to pierce the darkness. The devil's mixed heritage, born of a devil and a high-level beast, lent it a peculiar combination of cunning and brute strength.
The green orcs knelt before it, their guttural voices reporting on the human camp and the mage with the crimson eyes.
The left head tilted with amusement. "A crimson-eyed mage?" it hissed, its voice soft yet sharp. "How quaint."
"Curious," the right head rumbled, its deeper tone carrying an air of authority. "Perhaps she is kin."
The left head laughed, its voice cold and mocking. "Kin? Impossible. Just a girl. Devils value sons, not daughters."
The right head's lips curled into a sneer. "Still, her presence is an inconvenience. She meddles too much with their defenses."
The left head's grin stretched unnaturally wide. "Then let us test her resolve. A single breach should suffice to show them fear."
"And an assassin beast," the right head added, its tone dripping with disdain. "Let her taste despair."
With a dismissive wave, the devil sent its orcs back into the shadows. The two heads turned to face each other, their expressions mirrored in malevolent delight.
"The bloodline is weak," the left head mused.
"But it persists," the right head countered. "We shall see how long it endures."
Location: Armond Camp
Near midnight, the camp had grown quieter. Soldiers' patrols continued, but the weight of the day's labor and the oppressive atmosphere had taken its toll. At the center of it all, Magda stood near the formation glyphs, her crimson eyes focused as she made small adjustments to the runes. The formations were holding, but the increasing mana usage weighed on her mind. Her brow furrowed as she reinforced a particularly dim glyph, muttering incantations under her breath.
Unnoticed by the camp, a lone blue wolf slipped through the barrier at its weakest point. Its sleek form moved like liquid mana, its glowing eyes fixed on Magda. The beast was small, with mana-levels weak enough to not be noticed by the barrier formation, but its intent was clear—a silent, deadly predator targeting the mage who had disrupted its master's plans.
From across the camp, Micheal who was returning from his reinforcement rounds caught sight of the creature. His heart leapt into his throat as he realized its target. Dropping the tools he'd been carrying, he grabbed the nearest spear and sprinted toward Magda.
"Magda! Look out!" he shouted, his voice breaking the stillness of the night.
Magda turned sharply, her eyes narrowing as she spotted the wolf. Her body tensed, but she showed no fear. Before Micheal could reach her, she raised her hand, and her mana-infused blade materialized in a flash of crimson light. With a single, fluid motion, she struck down the wolf, its form dissolving into a puddle of mana-tainted water.
Micheal skidded to a halt, his spear clattering to the ground. His chest heaved as he stared at the remains of the beast, then at Magda, who stood calm and composed, her blade dissolving into the air.
"You… you killed it?" Micheal stammered, his voice tinged with disbelief.
Magda brushed a strand of hair from her face, her expression softening. "Yes," she replied simply.
"I thought you were in danger," Micheal admitted, scratching the back of his neck. His cheeks flushed with embarrassment as he added, "I just wanted to help."
Magda's lips curved into a faint smile. "I appreciate the thought," she said, her voice warm. "But I can handle myself."
Before Micheal could respond, Magda's gaze shifted past him, and her expression froze. She took an instinctive step back, her eyes locking onto Breeze as the pup bounded toward them, tail wagging.
"Get it away from me," she said sharply, her voice trembling.
Micheal acted immediately, scooping up Breeze and holding him to his side, away from Magda. "Sorry," he said quickly, his tone understanding. "I didn't realize he'd followed me. I'll keep him back."
Magda exhaled shakily, her shoulders relaxing. "Thank you," she said softly, though her wary eyes remained fixed on Breeze.
Micheal chuckled lightly, the tension easing. "You just took down a demonic beast without flinching, but you're scared of Breeze?"
Magda shot him a glare, her cheeks tinged with color. "It's not the same," she muttered.
As the moment passed, Magda regarded Micheal thoughtfully. "Do you remember anything from last night?" she asked suddenly, her voice careful.
Micheal blinked, caught off guard. "Last night?" he repeated. "I… not really. I was pretty drunk. Why? Did something happen?"
Magda hesitated, her crimson eyes searching his face before she shook her head. "No. Nothing important."
"Are you sure?" Micheal pressed, his brow furrowing. "I feel like I might be missing something."
"It's nothing," Magda replied firmly. She turned and began walking away, her mana blade dissolving into the night air. "Goodnight, Micheal."
Micheal watched her go, a nagging unease settling in his chest. "Nothing, huh?" he murmured to himself. Breeze nuzzled against his arm, and Micheal scratched the pup's ears absently. "Somehow, I don't believe that."
As he turned to leave, the faint echoes of laughter reached his ears—two voices, low and mocking, resonating from the forest's edge. Micheal stopped, his heart pounding as he glanced toward the tree line, but there was nothing there. Shaking his head, he hurried back to his tent, the uneasy feeling lingering long after the night had grown silent.