One evening, as he once again contemplated his empire from his citadel, Nestia approached.
"Master," she said in a low voice, almost a whisper. "The northern mountains are in turmoil. The bandits have formed a coalition. They seem to be planning to invade our lands."
Linfer showed no surprise and simply nodded. "So this is when you show up, Leviathan?" he murmured to himself, knowing that this unrest could not be a coincidence.
"Prepare our troops," he ordered without hesitation, his gaze still fixed on the horizon, as if he already perceived the outcome of this imminent battle. "Tomorrow, we shall march towards the northern mountains."
He stood up, a smirk slowly forming on his lips. "We shall strike first," he said calmly, a cruel gleam shining in his eyes.
...
Linfer, a figure draped in a black cloak, stood atop a hill, overseeing an army of Wendigos. These creatures, with their glowing eyes, awaited their master's commands, ready to sow terror.
Before Linfer, three Wendigos stood proudly, their muscles bulging in contrast to the others. Beside them, three humans stood upright, their eyes lowered in respect and fear. These human generals were not slaves like the Wendigos, but they had grown up in Linfer's shadow, learning to fear him. Among the generals was Nestia, a young woman with black hair and piercing eyes, whose loyalty to Linfer was unwavering. At her side, two men, Armand and Felix, stood silently, their faces marked by fear.
Linfer raised his hand, and a deathly silence fell upon the assembly. "My faithful... slaves," he began, his voice resonating with a hint of amusement, "we march towards the northern mountains, the domain of the bandits. There, we shall annihilate our enemies."
Nestia stepped forward, her gaze fixed on Linfer. "Master, we are ready to follow you to the ends of the earth."
Armand nodded, his face grave: "We fear neither the cold nor death. We have you on our side."
Linfer smiled, a cold and calculating smile. It always amused him to see people who hated him so much submit without a hint of rebellion due to fear.
"Then, forward!"
And so, the army began its march. The Wendigos, with their heavy and steady steps, led the way, while Linfer and his generals flew above, overseeing their progress. The march seemed endless, thousands of kilometers covered under an unforgiving sun, through torrential rains, and finally, in the thick snow of the mountains.
The Wendigos showed no signs of fatigue, their steps resonating like a war drum.
Finally, after weeks of relentless marching, they reached the foot of the central mountain. The ground trembled beneath their feet, and the temperature dropped abruptly. The snow began to fall harder, a storm rising around them. Linfer, floating above his troops, raised his arms and cried out in a voice that pierced the noise of the storm: "Prepare yourselves!"
"For our master!"
The Wendigos howled in response, their cries mingling with the howling wind.
"This is where it all comes down," Linfer murmured, the veins in his hands moist and his claws more sharpened.
Linfer was a bit nervous, he knew his brother would likely be involved, but he was aware of his strength. The bandits were at most five hundred, but he had an army. Leviathan had already lost, it was just a matter of time.
"Mother, wherever you are, I hope you will see this battle, I will prove my worth by killing the best of the Vamp."
And so, under the roaring storm, Linfer's army prepared to face the enemies waiting for them in the snowy mountains.
...
Leviathan, seated on his throne of ice, glowed in the dimness of the cave. His black armor barely reflected the faint glow of the snowstorm outside, his metal-gloved fingers tightly wrapped around his face in a posture of silent contemplation. The sound of the howling wind was only interrupted by the faint murmurs from the back of the cave. When one of the bandits approached, his voice pierced the calm:
"Chief, the one they call the Devil of the East is at our gates."
Leviathan did not react immediately. Slowly, he turned his head, revealing a piercing gaze through the gaps in his helmet. He nodded with a slight, almost imperceptible gesture. Then, with slowness, he rose from his throne, grasping his massive halberd, forged from black metals and adorned with runes.
Unlike Linfer, who had transformed his subjects into slaves, or Alderbaran, who had presented herself as a goddess, Leviathan had used the law of the strongest. He had presented himself as an outlaw more powerful than anyone, and thus, he had easily become their leader.
"I know," he replied in a deep and cavernous voice, each word resonating against the walls of the cave. "Linfer Vamp... years have passed, and it seems you've forgotten who is the youngest of this family."
Just like his twin sister Alderbaran, Leviathan saw their little brother as an immature young man who liked to cause trouble. But unlike her, who would never attack a family member, it didn't bother Leviathan to give his arrogant little brother a lesson.
With a powerful gesture, he adjusted his weapon, his eyes fixed on the exit of the cave where the storm raged. He turned to face his men, sturdy warriors, their muscles sculpted by years of combat and pillaging, and women whose imposing presence rivaled that of their companions. He scanned the crowd, observing them with cold intensity.
"Look closely," he said, his voice filled with a chilling coldness, "and see who your leader is."
As he advanced towards the entrance of the cave, something supernatural seemed to emanate from his figure. The cold intensified with each step he took, his body exuding an aura of frost that even the outer storm seemed to respect. The bandits, stunned, silently stepped outside to watch him from afar.
Leviathan stopped at the edge of the cliff, dominating the mountain. The wind whipped violently against his armor, but he remained impassive. He first removed his helmet. Suddenly, two vast bat wings, as black as the night itself, unfurled with a loud crack, stretching into the darkness. Two deep black horns emerged from his forehead, like a devilish crown, completing his transformation into Tenshi mode.
The bandits, frozen by the spectacle, could only observe Leviathan's imposing figure. He seemed to embody an ancient terror, his presence enveloped in an inexplicable cold that penetrated to the bone. Without another word, Leviathan leaped into the air, cleaving the skies, his wings beating powerfully against the storm.
He rushed towards the mountain's base, like a black flash in the swirling snow, his imposing and terrifying silhouette disappearing into the blizzard.