House of Blood

The sky above Bergis had ceased to exist.

It had been replaced entirely by the colossal, rock-encrusted underside of a mountain-sized limb.

Thousands of tons of ancient granite descended through the clouds, displacing the air with such violent pressure that stone towers along the outer wall collapsed under the atmospheric shock before the foot even made contact.

CRACK!

Entire sections of the battlements split beneath the pressure.

Soldiers fell to their knees, clutching their ears as their eardrums ruptured. Some vomited blood. Others simply stared upward, frozen beneath the impossible shadow descending upon them.

Saintess Seraphina collapsed against the parapet, her sacred scriptures slipping from her bloodied fingers as her radiant domain shattered into golden fragments.

Inquisitor Charles threw his gauntleted arms over his head, shielding the Saintess with his broken body.

Down in the courtyard, Castor and Pollux leaned against one another, their shadow-blades flickering weakly before finally extinguishing.

For once, neither twin was laughing.

Wren planted her boots firmly into the stone.

Her twin dragon-skin daggers burned with the final embers of her dragon flame. Her vision blurred with red and gold as she stared at the descending mountain.

There was nowhere to run.

Nowhere to hide.

No attack she could launch that would matter.

Her throat tightened.

”Valerian...”

BOOOOOOOOOOM!

The world did not end in rock and bone.

It exploded.

A blinding pillar of absolute, pitch-black spatial force erupted from the earth directly beneath the falling mountain-limb.

The air buckled.

Space screamed.

A sound like a thousand thunderclaps detonating simultaneously echoed across the province as the descending mountain-foot was violently halted thirty feet above the city ramparts.

An ocean of writhing, ink-black darkness had appeared beneath it.

The massive limb trembled.

Then stopped.

A hurricane of grey dust and pulverized rock swept across the walls, swallowing the battlefield in a choking veil.

For several seconds, nobody could see anything.

Then a voice emerged from the darkness.

Deep.

Ancient.

Amused.

”That was cutting it close, little dragon.”

Nox’Aethel.

The massive wall of shadow beneath the mountain began to expand.

It twisted.

Coiled.

Rose hundreds of feet into the storm-choked sky.

The shadowy mantle surrounding the ancient entity unraveled, revealing his true primordial form.

A colossal, multi-eyed Shadow-Abyss Titan stood between Bergis and the descending mountain.

His body was forged from fluid darkness and ancient void-iron, four enormous obsidian-scaled arms extending from his monstrous frame.

Each movement distorted the air.

Nox raised all four arms.

Then slammed his palms against the underside of the Granite World-Eater’s foot.

ROAAAAAAAAAR!

His primordial war cry shook the tectonic plates beneath the province.

The earth fractured.

Mountains groaned.

With terrifying, raw strength, Nox physically shoved the continent-sized limb upward.

The Granite World-Eater staggered backward.

One step.

Then another.

The impact sent an earthquake tearing through the northern valley, throwing boulders the size of houses from the surrounding peaks.

The mountain-beast was forced back nearly three miles.

For the first time since its awakening, the titan seemed to hesitate.

Then the dust began to settle.

The screaming stopped.

The clashing of steel ceased.

Even the mutated beasts froze.

Every living creature on the battlefield turned toward the stone ledge above the grand gate.

A figure stepped through the swirling haze.

Valerian.

He stood atop the highest crenellation.

His dark silk coat was torn in several places and soaked in ancient blood. His silver-laced dark hair was disheveled, and countless wounds marked his pale skin.

Yet he stood upright.

Unbowed.

Unbroken.

His blindfold was gone.

His Crimson Abyssal Dragon Gaze burned beneath the grey sky, crimson pupils narrowed into lethal slits.

In his hand, his obsidian staff rested quietly against the stone.

The weapon pulsed.

Once.

Twice.

Like a second heartbeat.

For several seconds, the entire battlefield descended into an unnatural silence.

The wind died.

The war horns fell quiet.

Even the flames along the ruined walls seemed to shrink.

Then—

Plip.

A single drop of blood fell from Valerian’s fingertips.

It struck the stone.

Every soldier heard it.

Valerian slowly lowered his gaze toward the battlefield.

He didn’t shout.

He didn’t need to.

”Answer my blood...”

THUUUUUMP!

The earth beneath Bergis didn’t merely shake.

It bled.

From cracks in the stone.

From trenches.

From the battlefield.

From thousands of corpses scattered across the frozen ground.

Blood began moving.

Not forward.

Backward.

Rivers of thick crimson liquid crawled across the battlefield against gravity, rising from corpses and pooling trenches before lifting into the air.

The blood spiraled upward.

Around Valerian.

Around his boots.

Around his body.

Then the crimson rivers collided with the pitch-black shadows pouring from the rift behind him.

Blood and shadow merged.

The entire battlefield seemed to hold its breath.

Valerian extended one hand.

His voice deepened.

The sound no longer belonged entirely to a fifteen-year-old boy.

It carried the layered resonance of something ancient.

Something sovereign.

Something that demanded obedience.

”Your Liege calls.”

CRACK-CRACK-CRACK!

Space split open.

A massive spatial rift tore across the sky behind Valerian, revealing the endless obsidian darkness of the Sovereignty of the Shadow-Blood Trial.

Something stepped through.

Heavy.

Armored.

Silent.

Golden-crimson plate armor emerged from the darkness.

Invictus.

The Unconquered Commander.

His massive broadsword rested casually across one shoulder, while golden-crimson energy pulsed beneath the ancient armor.

His presence alone made the surrounding shadows recoil.

He stepped beside Valerian.

Then five hundred figures emerged behind him.

Three hundred heavy Blood Shadow vanguards marched onto the battlements in perfect formation, their jagged black-and-crimson armor gleaming beneath the crimson light.

Each carried a petrified monster-bone tower shield and a heavy blood-iron spear.

Behind them floated two hundred Blood Shadow mages.

Dark cowls concealed their faces.

Crimson arcana burned around their hands.

Five hundred warriors.

Five hundred weapons.

Five hundred souls bound to one sovereign.

Invictus raised his broadsword.

His voice exploded across the battlefield.

”FOR THE LIEGE!”

The Blood Shadow Legion answered as one.

”RAAAAAAAAH!”

They descended.

The heavy vanguards leapt from the fifty-foot wall simultaneously.

BOOM!

Their shields struck the ground like falling meteors, crushing mutated direwolves beneath several tons of enchanted bone and steel.

The formation didn’t break.

It advanced.

Step by step.

Shield by shield.

Spear by spear.

The vanguards drove into the mutated beast tide like an iron wedge, their spears punching through hardened hides with mechanical precision.

Above them, the blood mages raised their hands.

Two hundred crimson spell circles appeared across the sky.

Invictus lowered his blade.

”Execute.”

The sky turned red.

Hundreds of blood-iron spears descended like a meteor storm.

They pierced the mutated beasts from above, detonating inside their bodies and ripping apart their mana cores.

The horde that had nearly annihilated Bergis only minutes earlier began collapsing in waves.

Invictus entered the battlefield.

He moved like a crimson comet.

His broadsword swept outward.

SHIIIIING!

A seventy-foot arc of compressed spatial mana tore across the battlefield.

Five mutated razor-crabs were severed simultaneously.

Their massive bodies collapsed into the blood-soaked earth.

Invictus continued forward.

Another swing.

Three stone-hide boars fell.

Another.

A dozen direwolves were reduced to pieces.

Where the army of Bergis had spent hours bleeding and dying merely to hold an inch of ground, the Blood Shadow Legion dismantled the beast tide in minutes.

It wasn’t a battle.

It was an execution.

Castor stared from the courtyard, his broken arm hanging uselessly at his side.

His mouth slowly opened.

”Brother...”

Pollux blinked.

”Yeah?”

”They’re...”

He watched an entire squad of Blood Shadow vanguards march through a pack of mutated beasts without breaking formation.

”...completely butcher-grade.”

Pollux’s grin returned.

”Oh, I like them.”

Nearby, Inquisitor Charles stood frozen.

His broken sword hung loosely from his hand.

He stared at the five hundred shadow warriors.

Then at Valerian.

His expression slowly changed from disbelief to something far deeper.

Fear.

”He didn’t just undergo training...” Charles whispered.

His voice trembled.

”He came back with an army.”

Seraphina slowly pushed herself upright against the damaged battlement.

The flashing crimson arcana illuminated her pale face.

Her sapphire eyes remained fixed upon Valerian.

She remembered their conversation in the tea room.

I dislike leaving unsettled matters behind me.

A faint, incredulous smile touched her lips.

”Apparently,” she whispered, ”you meant that literally.”

Below, Wren finally exhaled.

She wiped the blood from her forehead with the back of her arm.

For the first time since the titan awakened, her shoulders relaxed.

Then her usual wicked grin returned.

”Took you long enough, kid.”

Valerian turned his head toward her.

Their eyes met.

For the briefest moment, the coldness in Valerian’s expression softened.

The corner of his mouth lifted by the smallest fraction.

Then his gaze shifted north.

The smile disappeared.

Far beyond the battlefield, Nox’Aethel and the Granite World-Eater collided again.

BOOOOOOM!

The impact sent a shockwave through the valley.

The World-Eater’s mountain-sized fist crashed against Nox’s armored chest, while the Shadow-Abyss Titan answered with all four of his arms, driving the ancient beast backward.

Mountains cracked.

Stone rained from the sky.

The battle between primordial monsters had only begun.

Valerian tightened his grip around his obsidian weapon.

Behind him stood five hundred Blood Shadow warriors.

Below him, Bergis still burned.

And beyond the northern mountains, an ancient titan had awakened.

The beast tide was finished.

The real battle had only just begun.