On the eastern side of Blacksand City, the battle still raged with thunderous intensity. Magnoli and Damerius's forces held their ground, repelling the unrelenting assault of the Balevad army, led by two seasoned generals: Kommer and Jakuol.
"Brother, I don't think we can fully defeat them," Damerius muttered, his sharp gaze cutting through the smoky night sky lit with embers.
Magnoli let out a deep breath, his left hand still gripping his sword hilt tightly.
"We must hold the line, brother. We can't afford to lose," he replied firmly. "My troops are strong, yes... but these Balevad soldiers—they've been through countless wars. They're big, brutal, and... disciplined."
But then came news that shook Magnoli to his core.
"My lord... Duke Alderon has fallen. Killed by the enemy," a soldier reported.
"What?? How is that possible?" Magnoli couldn't believe it.
Without hesitation, he rushed off.
"Duke…!" Magnoli's scream tore through the chaos of the evening war.
Although The Hollow Creed was known for its stealth and swift maneuvering, they were ill-prepared for open warfare. In the shadows and unseen skirmishes, they thrived. Guerilla tactics were their strength. But this battlefield... was too exposed. Too ferocious. They were overwhelmed—and defeated.
The Balevad troops were clearly more prepared. Kommer and Jakuol pressed the front line with calculated precision. They knew where to strike, when to pierce, and how to unravel the enemy's morale.
In truth, The Hollow Creed nearly collapsed at the war's onset. But thanks to reinforcements from Damerius's forces and scout units from the Nori tribe led by Valtros Gorn, they managed to hold the line... though they had yet to push back.
In the heart of the battlefield, tragedy struck: Duke Alderon—Magnoli's loyal companion and close friend—was slain by Jakuol. That night, sorrow engulfed the Whiteheaven camp.
But war waits for no mourning heart.
"Hold this line!" Damerius shouted, his voice rising above the clash of steel. "Don't let them breach the barbed wire! We can't afford to lose half the city!"
"My lord," gasped Arkael, drenched in sweat, "we… we need help from the emperor!"
"No, Arkael," Damerius shook his head firmly. "Let them focus on the western front. We must hold here. No matter what."
Night deepened. The Balevad forces came in waves—small, relentless, deadly. They didn't stop.
Suddenly, Valtros Gorn burst through the lines, panting heavily, his face grim.
"My lord, urgent news!" he called.
"What is it?" asked Damerius.
"There's no war at Garmund's Rest."
Damerius narrowed his eyes. "What did you say?"
"The Larfex army… they haven't attacked. They're not fighting."
"You saw it yourself?" Damerius asked quickly.
"I did, my lord. I investigated personally. There's no sign of conflict. In fact... it seems there's room for diplomacy."
"Diplomacy?" Damerius's face shifted. Shocked. Disbelieving. "Impossible..."
"Does the emperor know?" he asked next.
"I don't think so," Valtros replied. "That's why I came straight to you."
"Then... find Lord Magnoli. Tell him everything."
"And you, my lord?"
"I'm staying here. I must protect our defense. Go!"
Valtros left at once. Moments later, he stood before Magnoli.
"There's no war at Garmund's Rest," he said firmly.
Magnoli had just finished burning incense in Alderon's memory when he rose sharply.
"What?"
"The Larfex are negotiating," Valtros repeated.
Magnoli froze. His expression shifted. "...Saddle my horse. We must see Rogg. Now!"
Without another word, he mounted and galloped into the night with his guards.
Upon reaching the city center, Magnoli stormed past the guards.
"Where's the Emperor?" he demanded.
"In his chambers, sir. Resting," answered a soldier.
Without waiting for permission, Magnoli entered and shook the sleeping Rogg.
"Rogg! Trouble. There's no war at Garmund's Rest!"
Rogg opened his eyes slowly, stifling a yawn.
"Magnoli?" he murmured. "What are you talking about?"
"The Larfex are negotiating!" Valtros confirmed.
Rogg sat up. His eyes stared blankly at the ceiling.
"So it's true..." he whispered.
Magnoli stared at him. "You... you suspected this?"
"I didn't hope for it... but I did consider the possibility."
"Rogg, don't tell me you believe Prince Neroxius is a traitor?"
Rogg met his eyes. "I don't want to believe it. But I won't close my eyes either. We all know... the Larfex are not a predictable people."
Magnoli clenched his fist. "You know I'm loyal to you. But if my kin are truly exploiting this situation... we'll be fighting more than one war."
"You're right, Magnoli," Rogg said calmly. "But one thing you must understand—we can't let them dictate this war. If they succeed, it's over for all of us."
Silence fell. Heavy. Ominous. In that stillness, they both knew... a civil war might be inevitable.
"We could all choose to stop this war, just to spare lives on both sides," Rogg said, his voice heavy. "But one thing is certain… if Balevad succeeds in turning Whiteheaven's armies against each other—then we've already lost, long before this war ends."
The silence grew thicker. The tension, suffocating. The air between Rogg and Magnoli felt charged.
They both knew... this was no longer just a war against outsiders. This was veering into civil war.
"So... what now?" Magnoli asked quietly, locking eyes with Rogg. "What do we do?"
Rogg took a long breath. "There's only one option left—we take full control of Blacksand. The entire city must be ours... before it's too late."
Magnoli frowned, stunned. "How? We haven't even won yet! Isn't the western side still under Balevad control?"
"No. We've reclaimed two-thirds of the city," Rogg replied steadily. "Only the east remains. Prepare yourself... we're going to support Damerius."
"Wait—what?" Magnoli exclaimed, shocked. "I thought... our forces on the west were the ones losing badly?"
Doubt tinged his words.
Vuuxi stepped forward. "The Balevad troops in the west moved out last night. They tried to send messengers to request reinforcements... but we eliminated them."
Magnoli turned to him, puzzled. "Then why would they retreat?"
Josia Aedrin stepped in, carrying a wooden box, and set it before Magnoli.
"This... is the reason," he said plainly, gesturing to the box.
Magnoli stared at it, then slowly opened the lid. He froze—his body stiffened. Inside lay the severed head of Bindor, one of Balevad's ruthless princes. His dead eyes stared wide open... as if death had come too fast.
"So... now you're playing with terror too?" Magnoli muttered. "Psychological warfare... fear tactics?"
Rogg's gaze sharpened. "Our enemies are no ordinary men, Magnoli. They're more dangerous than Lagosh. The only way to bring them down... is to instill fear."
Magnoli exhaled deeply. "Very well... and what about Uncle Eryndor?"
"He's already returned to the west," Rogg replied. "I've sent Nakhsa and Hans to monitor his every move. If he attempts betrayal…"
Rogg looked straight into Magnoli's eyes."…I won't hesitate to carry out the sentence. Will you hate me… if I end up having to kill your own uncle?"Magnoli fell silent. Her eyes darkened."…Yes, I'll be angry. But if he's truly a traitor…" She lowered her gaze, then lifted her face again with resolve. "Then that… would be the only right decision."Rogg gave a firm nod. "Good. I've asked for your thoughts… and your permission."
He turned to Josia."My cousin, we move east. Now."Josia bowed. "Yes, Your Majesty."
Without another word, the two stepped out of the hall.And that very morning—before sunlight had even touched the horizon—the imperial army, led by Rogg Robelix himself, surged toward the eastern side of Blacksand, launching the decisive strike that would determine the fate of the city.
The surprise attack, spearheaded by Emperor Rogg, threw Balevad's forces into utter chaos. They hadn't anticipated this—not this version of the army. It was faster, deadlier, and far more disciplined than anything they'd faced before.
Rogg had unleashed his finest warriors: the elite Doliex—a band of knights who had once carved their names into history at the battle for the Thalvion Gate. These were no ordinary soldiers. They were living legends.
At the forefront stood five of their most formidable commanders:Solvaris Veynor, swift as a sea storm.Thundrek Grosbald, the breaker of enemy lines.Dazareth Katoki, the disruptor of battle formations.Xarvos Faelin, a shadow on the battlefield.And Zendaris Faelin, the flame that burned enemy will.
Under their leadership, 50,000 elite Doliex cavalry clashed with 70,000 Balevad troops, unleashing an unrelenting fury. The center ranks of Balevad's formation were obliterated without mercy.
Elsewhere on the field, Vuuxi and Rogg fought with everything they had. There were no more compromises—only victory or ruin.
Vuuxi had entered her war state. Solvarya, the twin spinning discs, danced in her hands, joined by Cindrael, a lashing chainblade that slashed and tore through enemies in a radius no one could breach.
Meanwhile, Rogg stood like an immovable tower. With his massive bow, he loosed arrows of legend—each capable of piercing through five bodies in a single shot. These arrows were known as Taringga—monster-killer bolts. When they flew, corpses piled high.
The battlefield transformed into a slaughterhouse. The Balevad forces weren't just defeated—they were shattered.
On the eastern edge of the city, Damerius had fought relentlessly, but finally reinforcements arrived. He led his troops in a charge to break the enemy's rear lines. But it came at a heavy price.
Four of his most trusted commanders—Tikko, Moko, Giko, and Loko—fell one after another, cut down by Jakuol and Kommer, two of Balevad's most ruthless and seasoned generals.
At last, victory was theirs. The city of Blacksand fell completely into the hands of Whiteheaven.
Some of Balevad's soldiers were taken prisoner, per Rogg's command. But the triumph had come at great cost. The ground was strewn with bloodied bodies. And Damerius... could barely stand.
Rogg rushed to him and helped him stay upright. Damerius's face was pale, his breath ragged."You pushed yourself too hard," Rogg said gently. "You fought like a lion, Prince."Damerius gave a faint smile. "I was never as strong as you… and my troops never as fearsome as yours… but I fought for my people. I believed… you would come."
Rogg bowed his head, locking eyes with him. "Am I not your emperor? And you, Damerius… you are a hero. This city once made you a slave, but today, you stand as its leader. That… is greater than any throne."
Damerius chuckled softly, then groaned from the pain in his back. Blood had soaked through his armor."Seven years ago… I was nothing but a slave in this city. I dreamed of becoming emperor… to change the empire. But in the end… it was you who destiny chose. And me… I can only call you the god of war…" he whispered, just before Rogg gently laid him down.
The victory was bittersweet.Blacksand had indeed fallen. But the shadow of death and loss hung heavy over what should've been their moment of triumph.