Part 1 –

A low-pitched rumble roared within the blanket of clouds above the Capital. To the untrained ears one would believe it was nothing more than thunder – an ill omen to the war that was so come in the following days.

Yet not a single drop of rain fell from the clouded skies. Neither were the streaks of light that naturally preluded thunder. Additionally, the nature of this rumble was too deep to be thunder.

It reverberated within the bones differently. While the citizens and adventurers of the Capital looked up into the clouds with eyes of wonder and bemusement, the Dwarves – and those that had frequented the Institute of Magic – wore proud faces.

As a race with complex knowledge of machinery, it was no wonder that they were able to recognise the sound in the sky with hardly any trouble.

Indeed. The true nature of this rumble was none other than the curated airship of Truebirth – one of the pillars that would lead them to victory against the Undead menace in Palvel.

Suddenly, the mechanical groans were smothered by the sound of a grand war horn. The clouds enshrouding the airship instantly dispersed as if it were caused by the shockwave of an explosion, revealing not one, but three majestic airships cruising through the skies.

Sunlight instantly cascaded through the disrupted clouds, shining its warmth over the castle the airships steadily approached.

As spectacular as the sight was, all eyes were drawn to the centremost airship of the three. It was coated in a pale metal similar to the esteemed armour of the Greater White Knights. But what truly set it apart from Pathfist’s flanking black ships was its smaller and overall thinner shape.

It bared a structural shape not to dissimilar to an arrowhead as opposed to ‘floating’ ships. Otherworlders who were aware of Earth’s aeroplanes instantly recognised it as the source of inspiration, although, to call it an aeroplane was quite a stretch.

Rather than two wings, it possessed 4 on each diagonal axis and came equipped with 4 limeite engines used to propel the airship exclusively forward. This was perhaps the most radical difference between the airships present, as contemporary airships utilised upward thrust to keep themselves in the air, mostly through [Wind] Magic and their limeite cores.

In this case, the airship professor Stan Prostranstvo designed abandoned this process of levitation in favour of a more ‘modern’ design. Yes, it was smaller mostly due to the fact that they would need magic of the [Seventh Tier] or even [Eighth Tier] to keep them afloat. Not to mention how quickly it would drain the mana out of limeite.

But this was the extent of the downsides. Where it lacked in size, it made for in speed. Where it lacked in defence, it prevailed in manoeuvrability.

After mere seconds of being revealed the pale airship was already far ahead of the others, and in a stunt to rally the morale of the citizens, it circled the castle’s summit with speed and precision unseen in a machine of its grand size.

Although it was among the smallest of most Airships, it was still over a hundred metres in length: easily larger than any of Earth’s conventional aircraft.

To put it into perspective; the average sized Airship in Eastern Six Point was around 150 meters, whilst largest ones tended to reach up to 200 meters. The largest known Airship were the Behemoths belonging to the Skathow Region which reached an absurd size of 350 meters.

These were essentially floating fortresses that smeared the skies like looming storm clouds. They could not be driven even remotely effectively due to their sheer size and required nearly every ounce of available magic from hundreds of limeite crystals just to keep them afloat.

The Behemoths were a testament of human ingenuity and Dwarven craftsmanship. Only a few dozens were known to exist outside of the Skathow Region. Enthile was among the few to possess a fair handful of their own. How many more remained deep within the heart of the region of Skathow was perhaps far more than any Demon would be willing to admit.

Where a Demon matched the strength of tens to even hundreds of humans – the Behemoths matched the Demonic ranks in a similar vein. The sheer magnitude of metal, manpower and magic could not be understated and the devastation these mechanical wonders possessed were known to surpass the [Seventh Tier].

Although, that was only true against the cannon fodder of the Demon race. Against the likes of Uru – who was among the most powerful of the Demon ranks in her prime a thousand years go – it would be a different story entirely.

But as Demons have come to realise the hard way – what makes humanity so powerful wasn’t just their weapons. It was their numbers. Their ingenuity when rallied against a common foe. This was cemented deeply into the hearts of the Demons countless hundreds of thousands of years ago when their invasion of Skathow fell short at the Great Divide, just west of the Skathow Region.

As history told the event – the march of a million Demons ended abruptly at humanity’s final frontier called the Great Divide, created by the human Gods. Billions of humans armed with their weapons and benevolent Heroes forever etched their might into history. A holy war that ended with no victors, but with only survivors to echo the events through countless generations.

In any case –

– The war horn roared again and with it came the abrupt cheer of many thousands.

The Airship proved to be a beacon of hope. Many recognised the beauty of such a capable machine and praised it aloud. Heads peered through open windows as they stared up in utter captivation.

With only a few days before the planned attack, some believed that they had already won at the mere sight of the Airship.

However, despite seeing the warm reception down below through a spyglass; the limeite-donned figure retained their serous demeanour. The similar eruption of cheers and celebratory explosions surrounding her in the deck of the airship also failed to tug at her heartstrings.

“The battle hasn’t yet begun. Why are they celebrating now?”

Anoma already knew the answer to this question yet still asked anyway. The hope of the entire Kingdom was a grand sight to behold, and she knew exactly its weight in gold. The morale generated reminded the solders and adventurers that they were destined to partake in Truebirth’s first battle in centuries. A crucial battle that dictated the future of their home.

Yet her demeanour still did not change.

A part of her adored the scenery and the cheers that dominated her every senses. It was almost surreal. Dreamlike in a way. As their Queen there was no other sight that could make her happier.

But before she was the Queen of Truebirth, and likewise a devour follower of the Children of Balance – she was a warrior that represented warriors and adventurers across all Colight; a Guildmaster.

To see tens of thousands already deciding on the outcome of their battle grated against her judgement. As much as she too wished to believe that victory was all but certain – she could not help but to remain level-headed.

“My, that’s an awful face you’re wearing, your majesty.” The voice of Talia caused her to finally blink and turn to the source beside her. “It’d be heartbreaking if the soldiers saw you looking like that.”

“If they lose morale over a face then they can take a step right off the Airship. The Gods won’t help them when they finally see an Undead for the first time.” Anoma sighed as the Priestesses softly laughed at her frustration.

“The textbooks are very tame in comparison, no? But there’s no helping it. The Undead were non-existent here in Colight so it comes to no one’s surprise. It does help that our documentation is excellent. The previous incursions were wiped out centuries ago and we have all the knowledge to succeed.”

Precisely. There was not a single detail left spared in the recordings of the last Undead uprising. From the tactics soldiers used to weaponry and even formations were written in ancient diaries and testaments to a frightening degree.

Many of their preparations were based solely on these marvellous findings. The soldiers aboard the Airship were donned with equipment that were to be used in the battle the following days. Every blade was imbued with either low tiered [Light] magic or some sort of [Fire] magic – the attributes that the Undead were extremely vulnerable to.

Those that could not imbue their weapons or simply chose not to due to conflicting attributes had them wrapped in cloth and primed to be dipped into oil. They were to be ignited at the forefronts of the battlefield. On average these were far more effective than the magic-imbued weapons but extinguished too quickly and easily.

Against an Undead hoard longevity was of utmost priority. These people mostly consisted of Adventurers who did not possess a standardised set of equipment like the soldiers of Truebirth and Pathfist did. What these individuals were given were bottles of oil, a flint fire-starter, and some cloth.

Or as an Otherworlder would call it – a Molotov.

Adventurers capable of performing [Fire] magic were also recruited with utmost priority and made up for a significant majority of the Adventurer population within the army. Those that could not use [Fire] magic were rationed cloth-wrapped arrows to circumvent this weakness.

Basically – every weapon the army possessed were tuned to burn down the Undead. Crushing them was also an effective method but aside from that – everything else was either too difficult or simply futile.

Severing the head of an Undead did not mean death.

It would only double the number of enemies.

What made the Undead so terrifying wasn’t merely their ability to assimilate the living in manners that would strip the sanity of anyone unfortunate enough to witness it.

Rather – it was the ability for their bodies to function independently from one once severed. Slicing the Undead into quarters would only work to disable them but given enough time and devoured mana; all four parts would inevitably become a creature of its own.

They would have to be cut into ribbons to be declared dead. But even then, the most tenacious ones – particularly those of higher ranks – have been known to survive with merely a single finger.

Fortunately, this was only true in mana-less lands; ones so completely deprived of mana that even the skies turn to a shade of black and red, and the sun’s light so deformed that it appeared like malevolent eclipse.

– Or the ‘Maw of the Uboros’ as some would call it.

Anoma made a soft-sounding grunt and sighed.

“That’s our backbone – aside from out ‘fated’ victory.”

“My, are you doubting the words of our Gods?”

“No. I’m being rational. I have no doubt we’ll win. But there is no such thing as an easy path to victory.” Anoma clarified, her eyes sharply narrowing. “What about you? Do you really think the Gods would give us such an easy pass against the Undead?”

“… Do you realise what you’re asking me?”

Talia motherly smile wavered slightly. She moved closer to Anoma’s side and continued after a gentle nod.

“It’s all in the will of the Gods. My life’s always been dedicated to their word, and I won’t stop even in the face of such adversity. I believe fate is on our side.”

“Hm.”

“But – I’m like you as well your majesty. Where there is hope, there is despair. If victory is our hope – then prepare for the worst. If history has taught us anything then prepare to lose some good people.” Talia’s voice trailed off, her smile finally disappearing.

“At what cost will we win. That’s what I want to know. I already have a vague idea of how the events will play out.”

“… You’re right. I’m afraid that’s not something I can tell you. It’s something we must all find out. But you must not forget the wonderful people we have on our side. Our leaders, their Majesties – even you. I believe we’ll pull through with the same cheers as below~”

Talia summoned a large pale orb in her palms as she reached out over the side of the Airship. The gushing air dispelled her magic, fragmenting it into millions of gentle particles which descended onto the many thousands beneath. It healed the most minor wounds of the cheering civilians and even managed to energize them.

This was one of Talia’s most powerful magic as a healer – despite how little it appeared to do. Whilst it was a [Fifth Tier] magic, it could not heal any significant wounds. Even a light gash would fair too difficult for it. However, where it made up for this deficit was its area of effect.

It spanned nearly one tenth of the entire city and affected many thousands. A pale magical circle was erected entirely beneath the airship while the two had conversed. Once Anoma realised this a fond smile found itself on her face.

“Maybe. You always were an optimist. What a relief. Keep our men alive will you.”

“My, isn’t that my job in the first place? Please leave it to me and the Adventurers.”

“I thought your job was to communicate with our Gods. Well – it’s not like that will matter there.” Anoma spoke as her eyes fell onto the blue beyond. “No God has ever descended to the pleas of their followers. Never in this era. And neither for as long as our world can remember.”

“All that can guide us – and has ever guided us – is their words. It’s never been their hands.”

“Yet we still have some sort of extension of that ‘hand’. Except that bastard’s run off with Pathfist’s Commanders and the Frostbitten to Gods knows where.”

Anoma’s frustration was met with silence from the Priestess. Her voice was drowned by the gushing air and the resounding sound of clunking metal and chatter across the deck. Yet it seemed to resonate deeply with Talia.

A complicated look befell the Priestess. On one hand she knew that Exrite was not the type of person to abandon their friends so easily. The countless years she had seen passing men and women of all kinds at the Chapel of Balance had honed her ability to read the deepest parts of people at a single glance.

However – that was not counting the fact that he was both the Exrenity and the Maiden of Time. Comparing the importance of his task to the measly sake of the Capital was impossible.

It saddened her knowing that the Exrenity would not lend a helping hand in such a vital war.

“In all fairness – I don’t think it’s unreasonable to believe they are not aware of our situation.” Talia added.

“The Undead? Sure. No one could have predicted this. But the war?” Anoma pinched between her eyes. “… whatever. The Commanders were too sporadic to be relied on. Tch. And besides –”

Anoma raised a hand to signify their landing upon the castle’s dock. A series of mechanisms began within the underbelly of the Airship as the men and women aboard braced themselves.

“It’s not like he would’ve made a difference anyway. That’s one less liability to worry about.”

A metal bouquet of anchors dropped from the rear end of the Airship as giant parachutes were thrown up into the sky to slow down its acceleration. Its underside smoothly skidded across the castle deck as the anchors found themselves caught on various handles, further decelerating it until it arrived at a complete stop.

A few of the soldiers were thrown like rags onto the ground, some sustaining injuries while others just barely struggled to hold their ground. It went without saying that aside from the perfections of the Airship itself – the landing procedures were certainly subpar at best.

Taking flight was also considerably difficult.

For starters – it required a runway to take off. This meant that landing on the field would render it completely stranded.

These two phases were the Airship’s fatal flaws. In the initial design the wheels were supposed to be used to help alleviate this flaw, however, the Airship’s sheer weight made it impossible to rely on these.

The underside was therefore purely crafted with smooth steel to allow movement equivalent to how penguins slide on their stomach.

“Was the landing too harsh for you, Talia?” Anoma asked, albeit rhetorically.

Somehow Talia did not budge the slightest. Where men of great strength and posture fell, the motherly Priestess was miraculously able to remain on her feet.

“I’m fine. My, it wasn’t as bad as the professor made it out to be.”

“Shall we leave then?”

Talia nodded, and with a single gesture of Anoma’s hand – the soldiers instantly began maintenance on the Airship. The fallen parachutes were repacked, and the anchors were manually towed by dozens of men. There was not a single person who stood still, aside from those inspecting damages and the healers who tended to the injured.

The two departed through an embedded stairwell alongside the edge of the Airship. Following a brief exchange with a few stationary guards above the dock, they finally made their way into the castle’s marvellous gilded halls.

“Is it fine for you to leave the soldiers on their own?”

“A soldier that cannot do the bare necessities has no right to wear our Kingdom’s crest. Let alone call themselves a follower of the Children of Balance. Don’t forget the crew aboard are all specially trained by Cardinal. Knowing that old man – I’d be surprised if they manage to overlook anything.”

“My, that’s high praise coming from you, your majesty~”

“It’s expectations. They’ll receive my formal praise when we get through this. I can only pray for them to persevere.”

“So can I. But only so few have ever encountered an Undead. I have no doubt that our men possess the mental fortitude to fight the Undead, but I’m worried for the Adventurers.”

Indeed. The Undead were an extremely rare enemy outside of the Boric Region – a region that was already far too devoid of Adventurers. The Boric Region had their own dedicated ranking system of Adventurers solely to combat the Undead, whilst the other regions followed a more universal system just like in Colight.

Only a handful of Adventurers had ever ventured into the Boric Region, let alone encountered an Undead. Even less lived to tell the tale. In fact – it was common knowledge for Adventurers to avoid the Boric Region for this reason.

While humans would easily gain the upper hand against an Undead, only the most seasoned Adventurers would be able to withstand the insidious fear that the Undead naturally inflicted onto the living.

Suffice to say – many of the Adventures that would partake in the battle had no idea what to expect, other than the warnings that were hammered into their minds by veterans and Anoma herself.

“The fear will never settle in so long as our soldiers are alive. All it takes is one act of bravery to inspire the rest.” Anoma spoke confidently, assuring this was the case.

“Oh certainly. Hm… My, you know that reminds me of something. Didn’t the Katho Region face something similar?”

“For a little while it did. There was an Undead anomaly a few months back while I was… ahem persecuted. Enthile ended up offering a ridiculous amount of wealth for whoever could bring it back. Dead or alive. It really makes you think about why they’d want it for so much.”

“… your majesty, are you somehow correlating this with the recent news?”

“Depending on what you mean by recent. That news has only just reached our city after circulating around the Katho Region for months.”

“Of the missing Prince of Enthile?”

Anoma didn’t say a word until they entered the vertic-port. After the brief flash of light subsided, she spoke.

“Perhaps. But I remembered it as the kidnapped Prince of Enthile. The news was out by the time the monster had already slaughtered hundreds. It’s most likely why we saw Enthile’s trading ship at our dock much earlier than normal a few months ago. We still haven’t heard from them again.”

Enthile’s trading Airship usually arrived at Truebirth once every 2 months. For whatever reason they had yet to return, and Anoma was certain that it had something to do with the Prince of Enthile – and the monster of the Katho Region.

The trading ship was also likely here to gather intelligence. Whether Enthile were satisfied with whatever information they gathered was unknown, and quite frankly none of her concern.

– To a certain extent.

Rather – a part of her was actually thankful for Enthile’s involvement, as well as the monster’s rampage. It was the sole reason why the figureheads running the Katho Region abandoned all pursuit of her.

And for what reason did they wish to eliminate her? Politics. The politics of the Adventurer’s Guild, and the damning ideologies of the Katho Region. Where nearly all Adventurer’s Guilds were built around honing Adventurers and facilitating teamwork to complete various tasks, the Adventurer’s Guilds of the Katho Region were designed around dubious bounties and mercenary work.

Betrayals, murder and even bounties for the heads of fellow Adventurers were not an uncommon occurrence. This was normal.

It was unfortunate that the people in power there could not understand Anoma’s perspective without resorting to bloodshed. At that point forward she realised that there was no hope left for the Adventurers of the Katho Region, and even advised against setting foot there.

However, that was only a fraction of the entire picture.

In any case – it was not like the Katho Region was on good terms with Colight in the first place.

Aside from Pathfist’s role of protecting Colight from Di-Lock – they also fought skirmishes alongside the North-eastern border of Colight and Katho against unruly mercenaries, violent gangs and pillagers parading themselves as Adventurers.

That aside –

A silent sigh slipped Anoma’s lips for what seemed like the first time in front of Talia. Although the pressure of the situation did not penetrate Anoma’s battle-hardened fortitude, her mind could still not shake off the fact that the battle was destined to see countless fall, and countless more lose their ability to serve and fight afterwards.

After all, the Undead were only second to the Demons in the hierarchy of Humanity’s greatest foes. Expecting everyone to survive was wishful thinking.

Tragedy was an inevitability.

A stiff silence followed. The only sounds within the grand halls were the clanks of Anoma’s metal heels, and the faint squeaks of Talia’s footwear. Yet these were unbearably quiet compared to the sounds of their beating hearts.

A complex expression befell the Priestess as she slowly began to unravel the story beyond the news.

No… Talia already knew the answer to this. As soon as the news reached her ears, she knew exactly who Enthile was after. It was no prince, nor a monster of any kind.

It was unquestionably Exrite.

“Your majesty – do you really think it was the prince that they were after?” Talia asked in dark tone unbefitting of her person.

Anoma slowly dragged her sights to the grand ceiling before they silently closed. She could sense a smouldering rage emit from those words.

On that one faithful night Talia was made aware of Exrite’s suffering in the hands of Enthile while she tended to him with her own.

To call Exrite’s captors and torturers ‘monsters’ would be a severe understatement.

To label it as a living hell would also be an insult.

In the decades that Talia had served as the main Priestess of Balance she had listened and comforted thousands of pained souls at the Chapel of Balance.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

None – even when combined – could compare to Exrite’s agony.

They could not allow Enthile to smear and corrupt his being once more. Not when he now possessed his Eye of Despair.

Anoma sensed this was the case and shook her head.

“If we hadn’t known about Exrite then I would have believed the news. He came from Enthile – so I’ve heard. It’s likely Enthile knew that he possessed some kind of link to the Maiden of Time.” She spoke with absolute certainty.

“Have you heard of the Shard of Time your majesty?”

“Vaguely. All I understand is that it is ultimately what caused Exrite to become the Maiden of Time.”

“… you’re correct in a sense. However, Exrite didn’t receive the Shard of Time until he reached our Chapel. What he possessed was the Heart of Time. The heart of the Maiden of Time herself. Enthile would have known about this.”

“Tch. Looking back – they certainly must had known about this. It would not make sense if they didn’t. Hah. I see now… The prince wouldn’t have been a priority anyway. They could have cared less for a kidnapping.”

Talia looked directly into Anoma’s emerald eyes, wondering what she meant. As if on cue – Anoma spoke again to clarify.

“Two years ago, I managed to secure an invitation their palace’s annual ball. Apparently one of the princesses were impressed with what we’re doing here in Truebirth with the Demi-humans in particular.” She began. “Talia – believe me when I say this: the prince of Enthile was openly ridiculed by the nobles there. Not even their most loyal servants showed that person a single thought of respect. He wasn’t someone capable from what I gathered. He lacked any merits to rule them and was bedridden for most of their life. Do you know what I’ve heard them call him, Talia? A Star Child.”

“My… how unsightly…”

For context – Star Children were beings birthed from miracles and served no purpose other than to die for another’s wish. They were said to be a part of the stars themselves and had fallen into the world for those who seek to reach out for the stars above.

They were but legends in today’s era. There had not been a Star Child in countless millennia. The said miracles were fabled to be a by-product of one’s failed desire, and therefore, would give birth to a chance of a successful wish.

A Star Child’s destiny was to be brought to Serzile, the Valley of Wishes where the Star Mother – or better known as the Maiden of Wishes – would relinquish their life in exchange for one’s true wish.

Basically, a Star Child served no purpose other than to benefit another’s grand desire. Aside from that, they had no place in this world and were far better off dead. It was a derogatory term of the highest degree; although, it was for only those who knew of their existence.

Although its meaning was not universal. In places such as Vevillen it was considered a compliment to be called a Star Child, for it meant open mindedness and child-like optimism.

Moving on –

“… this reminds me of how little we actually know about him.” Talia muttered.

“It is unfortunate, but somehow our Gods saw something inside of him. If our greatest Hero – Mildly Taniawort – could not be chosen to become the Exrenity, then how the fuck did he end up becoming one? It’s still baffling… and don’t get me started on the Maiden of Time.”

Anoma clutched her forehead tiredly.

“Of all things to make me question my faith, it has to be this.”

“My, do you realise who you’re speaking in the presence of your majesty?”

“I apologise.”

* * *

Anoma later returned to the guild with Talia by her side. After passing through its pristine rooms and halls they eventually reached the doors to Anoma’s office.

“Quite the presentation your majesty. We could hear the cheers from within the treasury. It was a splendid display.”

Calin – Anoma’s personal servant and consequently her right hand – deeply bowed in respect.

“Pray that they can still cheer when they get a glance of what manages to return.”

Calin shut her eyes, faintly nodding in agreement. It seemed as though Anoma was not alone in her cold sentiments. Rather – as warriors it was only natural to remain realistic of the situation at hand.

Regardless, this would still serve as a sizeable morale boost. To that Calin and the Greater Knights could wholeheartedly agree on. Regular Black and White knights shared a similar sentiment, but the same could not be said for the other soldiers and adventures.

The servant erected herself after a respectful bow and pushed apart the doors to the Guild Master’s office. At first glance it would appear as though a storm had wreaked havoc on the room or was at least ransacked while they were absent.

Needless to say, the state of Anoma’s office was a stark contrast to the well-maintained facilities of the Guild. Mounds of paper and fabric scrolls sprawled haphazardly across scarred desks and cabinets. A single [Fire Whip] which was usually used to incinerate unwanted documents would undoubtably set the room ablaze.

That aside –

“Bring me the report.”

“At once.”

Calin immediately slid a pile of sheets onto Anoma’s desk. An emblem of Pathfist’s insignia signified the importance of these documents. These were the reports from the forward scouts sent only days earlier to survey Palvel and its surroundings.

She flickered through the pages, memorising its contents at an inhuman pace before she suddenly paused on a peculiar page.

“Again with the silence. There weren’t any inhabitants to be found anywhere around the city?”

“No unfortunately. It’s the same as the reports from the other settlements overrun by Undead. No signs of life or the Undead.”

“No one ever returns to explain why.” Anoma’s eyes narrowed. “The airship didn’t find anything either. Are the Undead garrisoning themselves indoors?”

“We can only assume that’s the case. It’s likely we’re fighting against a high ranking Undead given the circumstance.”

“That’s already been established. Our main concern is finding out how intelligent this Undead is. Guarilia tactics aren’t something the Undead are known for. Overwhelming force is more of their strong suite as far as we’re concerned.”

“It appears as though they’re preparing to receive us if that’s the case.”

“For certain. If the airship wasn’t already a giveaway, then I’m not sure what else is.” Anoma released a long sigh, dropping the document. “It’s safe to assume that there’s no survivors in Palvel. Good. This makes things easier for us.”

Talia’s eyes furrowed at those words despite understanding the context of it. Still – her body reacted instinctively at this sinister notion of ‘good news’.

Although – it was not like they expected any citizens of Palvel to still be alive…

Anoma slid a hand into one of the many piles of documents and recovered a specific page. It was smeared with tiny markings of a certain brownish powder and carried a faint metallic scent.

Indeed. These were the traces of explosive powder.

“This was proposed by an – ahem – close acquaintance of Pathfist’s Commanders. Talia, ever heard of a ‘bombing run’?” She positioned the paper right beneath Talia, who stood on the other end of the desk with hands hovering by her stomach.

“My, I can’t say I have… It sounds like something an Otherworlder would say.”

“Because it is. The Commanders have been using explosive kegs to wipe out settlements along the Great Plains. They just throw it along as they fly by and – well, you can imagine the rest. They call this strategy a ‘bombing run’.”

“I see.” Talia’s voice shrunk. She had seen both explosive magic and the wrath of pure explosive powder. It was a night and day difference between the two, and this was comparing [Tier Four] [Explosive] Magic to a mere handful of explosive powder.

She could only imagine the devastation of a powdered keg; let alone dozens. Very few outside of Pathfist’s soldiers had actually witnessed the carnage the Commander’s had unleashed in the Great Plains.

Although, this method was not revolutionary. Neither was it new for that matter. This same tactic was proposed in the past and was actually utilised, albeit to an insignificant degree.

Why was this so? The risk.

Firstly – each airship was usually equipped with mages capable of casting [Fire] magic; whether to char ground forces or to set enemy ships ablaze.

Secondly – explosive powder on its own was extremely volatile. Merely crushing but a single dust was likely to result in an explosion. Considering the turbulence airships commonly experience, and not to mention mostly being at the forefront of battle and at the mercy of hostile magic – any significant quake could spell utter destruction.

And thirdly – Pathfit’s historical experience with explosive powder has been nothing but a disaster.

Out of the 10 times that this was implemented into the arsenal of a Pathfist airship, only 1 had returned with its hull and crew intact. The other 9? They joined the blazing heap of whatever Di-Lock fort was bombed.

How? Exposure and vulnerability.

The compartments needed to hold the explosive powder were always far too exposed and vulnerable to attacks. They were usually located on the underside or rear of the airship. The first few simply had crewmembers throw them overboard, but this proved to be far more inferior as the first target of an airship would naturally be the deck – or any compartment with the highest concentration of personnel.

It was far more beneficial to capture and airship than to raze one, given the resources required to construct them in the first place. Additionally, if an airship had lost its ability to maintain flight – it would still possess the ability to return fire at maximum capacity.

After all – an airship’s main firepower came from its crew.

The only known exceptions of machines capable of harnessing mana-less weaponry were the Commanders, the Behemoths, and the Dellinger – an armoured train which travelled through the mountains of Plunnerdell.

Ultimately – explosive powder was far too much of a risk to introduce into this war.

However –

“It’s not a bad proposal if you think about it. Our problem is how we’re supposed to implement it. A so called ‘bombing run’ will do us no good. This person didn’t have a name to give us unfortunately, aside from being the Commander’s direct supplier. By the time we received this letter they had already disappeared from their storefront. A shame. I would’ve personally loved to execute her myself.”

Anoma tapped the desk with metal fingers, gaining the attention of Talia and Calin.

“The foolishness of storing kegs of explosive powder, within our walls no less, is only punishable by death. However – that’s where the interesting part comes in.”

Calin nodded and ventured a hand deep into a peculiar looking bag. It sat in the most vacant corner of the room atop a small shelf, baring insignias, and magical symbols.

This belonged to a certain board of magical and structural researchers within the Institute of Magic. Where any strange contraption or otherworldly concepts, or object arrived they would be the first to investigate.

Of course – this board was made up of mages, Dwarves and Otherworlders; beings that were knowledgeable in these sorts of affairs.

After a few moments Calin returned with a pristine-looking document and presented it with a respectful bow.

“Take a good look Talia. The explosive powder wasn’t stored inside of any regular keg.”

“My. What a mysterious design. Of Otherworlder origin?”

A metal egg was the first thought that came to Talia’s mind. The flat base possessed a long coil of what was illustrated as wiring, reaching up to a staggering 50 meters in length. At the end was a rudimentary wind-up object.

Its purpose was yet to be explained.

“Likely. The Otherworlders believe it to be a wire-activated bomb. Not too far from their world’s, considering it doesn’t require magic. My guess is that the Commanders had a hand in this far, far long before this war even began.”

The bombs were essentially metallic containers filled with nothing but explosive powder. What was drawn on the document were sketches, diagrams and speculated cross sections of the explosive devices.

These were speculated to be rudimentary in design and functioned solely on two primary conditions. The first was the activator, which was connected to a copper wire and a device which needed to be winded up in order to generate an electric signal.

The second and more obvious condition was the presence of severe thermal disturbance.

Or in other words – the explosion of a neighbouring barrel, or a direct hit by some form of [Fire] magic.

No one was foolish enough to research the internals of these devices, less they wished for their very existence to be erased in an instant. They were instead field tested along the Minor Plains. 2 out of exactly 12 were tested and its destructive might witnessed by many observers, their reactions split between awe, mesmerisation, and terror.

Needless to say, no one dared to fathom the destruction all 12 could unleash at once.

Calin watched their faces contort with intrigue. Beneath her unmoving demeanour churned a hidden enthusiasm. The mere thought of the aftermath of such an explosion caused her heart to flutter.

It was not the death of thousands, nor the act of destroying the Capital which made her feel this way. Rather – it was but the mere and simple enjoyment of witnessing such raw, destructive power. A primitive sensation that only a pyromaniac like herself possessed within the deepest depths of her heart.

Anoma pinched between her eyes before speaking.

“So – as for why I brought you here Talia. After hearing all of this, tell me, do you trust in us fully utilising these in Palvel?”

“My, I’m sure my opinion is far superseded by yours. Why would you ask me this? Unless you believe I have some kind of judgement you might not have, I’m far from the right person to ask.”

“No. Your input matters the most. Listen carefully Talia. As heartless as I may sound the reality of using such weapons eludes to a greater casualty count. That is if things go awry. I’ve already formulated a plan for these, albeit it carries its own set of risks. But the risks are negligible.”

“… go on. Explain.”

“Calin.”

“Of course. The Undead currently don’t possess any higher-level thinking as far as we’re concerned, apart from their leader. We’ll have 10 separate groups each armed with a bomb for taking out key structures as they arrive. If all else – they’ll be used as weapons to wipe out legions of Undead. That is of course if all other means have been extinguished.” Calin announced in a grandiose manner, already revelling in its destructive promise.

Talia did not look convinced, however. It was one thing keeping such powerful bombs aboard an airship but keeping it within proximity of a main force was the most foolish thing she had ever heard in decades of serving the Chapel.

This was what Calin and Anoma gathered from the movement of her face. It came to no one’s surprise that Talia would react instinctively towards a suggestion this dangerous.

Despite this – Talia’s eyes settled and moved back down to the documents moments before she spoke again.

“We are not in a position to harbour any more risks. The moment our main force falls we also lose our Capital. Who else do we have left to defend our city when we have no one left to help? Pathfist? By the time our messengers reach their boarders the Undead would have already overrun our city, and we are their next target without a shadow of doubt… I’m sorry your majesty. Our peaceful Kingdom can only produce so many soldiers. Only so many adventurers are willing to risk their lives for our city.”

Talia spoke highly critically as she casted one final glance down upon the papers. The intricate design of the container and the fuse was not too dissimilar to a timed bomb-like weapon the Commanders had once presented to her at the Chapel months ago. Though the design was distinctively different, they held a particularly crude, mechanical charm that matched that of them.

“… however, I partly know a fair bit of the nature of Pathfist’s Commanders. I don’t believe these weapons were stored without purpose. Given the events that were spelling an inevitable war with Di-Lock – I want to believe that these were made in advanced to aid us in the war they could not attend. The dangers it presents can’t be ignored, but when we ourselves don’t know the true might of the enemy we’re up against then I am willing to accept that we don’t have much of a choice.”

Anoma reached forward and gently tapped the hand of the troubled priestess. Despite the coldness of her limeite and leather gloves; Talia could still feel the warmth of a human deep beneath.

“My. But we still must not forget that our victory has already been willed by our Gods.” Talia cupped Anoma’s hand with the other as she matched gaze with earnest eyes. “I trust you. Our men and the adventurers fighting under our banner trust you even more.”

Anoma lowered her head in a deep nod, cherishing those words that spoke directly to her heart. A mutual understanding of what must be done was reached, albeit they too understood the potential tragedy that loomed over such destructive devices.

In light of this, these were still considered a ‘last resort’ and were far from the main means of crushing their Undead foes. If war hammers and maces could not crush them; if magic and the inferno proposed to consume the Undead could not halter them; and if the unified will of their soldiers could not best the terror of the Undead –

– Then these weapons would no longer be needed. They would be required at all costs.

Anoma placed a final hand atop the Priestess’, the look in her eye unyielding to whatever dared to defy their inevitable victory –

– Even without the help of their so called Exrenity.

“Calin. Please leave us for a moment.”

“Understood. Shall some tea do in the meantime?”

“Please.” Anoma tapped on the desk once.

Calin deeply bowed before she took her leave. Once the heavy doors sealed them alone in silence, Anoma’s hands crept underneath the table. As tension stirred thickly in the air, Anoma slowly spoke.

“These plans only exist to inspire confidence in the war. From there, it is all in the hands of our Gods. Talia. I’m sure you realise what that means, and what remains at Palvel.”

Her words were sincere but were also hideously unapologetic. Talia was by no means a war tactician, and despite this she was able to see many faults in Anoma’s approach.

None were her fault, however. For the sake of securing victory, they needed to follow the will of their Gods… no matter the cost.

* * *

Lightning flashed.

The young girl tumbled beneath pale sheets, deeply disturbed by the roars outside. A painful grimace ruined the beautiful image of her face as she clawed at the blanket; twisting and turning to the nightmare that unfolded deep behind her closed eyes.

“… you are expected to survive.”

“They are not underused.”

“Don’t fight in the front lines with us. You’ll be the scouts. Don’t worry, you’re in the good hands of Khalis and Calin.”

The voices of many echoed in the darkness.

“Do you know how many people look up to you?”

“It’s deserved, isn’t it? Being a Hero means to be the greatest!”

She groaned as if struck with pain, wincing to these words that gnawed at her mind. The nightmare strangled her with its cold claws as her restless tumbling grew frantic.

Images of the faces of soldiers and those she knew the closest in this world flew past her eyes like the flickering pages of a burning picture book until everything collapsed into darkness. The unanimous voice of countless cried right before her senses returned all at once.

“You are the Heroes of Truebirth!”

Lightning struck outside of the giant window above again, its light smeared by the pelting rain. She instantly shot up in cold sweat, panting as the sheets fell to her lap.

“… Heroes…” Lizen managed to mutter. Her hands gripped at the rolls of the sheets as she remained seated up for a while, waiting for her composure to return.

When she seemed to calm down, a hand reached for her forehead to gauge her temperature, and another to wipe off the sweat from her face. The nightmare rattled her to the core and left her agonisingly awake.

She recalled the voices she heard and lurched forward, gritting her teeth.

“How can you all call us that… when we haven’t done anything to deserve it?” Lizen muttered, staring deeply into the folds of her sheets. The murmurs of her nightmare disappeared, and she was soon left alone with the rattles of her window and the roaring storm beyond.

The shrouded moonlight only faintly illuminated her figure in the dark room. She turned to the window with an exhausted expression and stared intently for what felt like minutes on end.

A loud exhale left her lips.

“I need some fresh air.”

Lizen threw her feet off the side of the bed. As she changed into something less revealing than her lavish undergarments, doubt began to settle into her mind.

With each piece of article she slid and clipped on, she wondered if her title of ‘Hero’ carried any real merit. To the grand world and the eyes of those around her; of course it did. It carried immense power in the eyes of her family, and as the daughter to one of the most esteemed nobles in Truebirth, they could not be more pleased.

The citizens of Truebirth looked up to her almost as much as the Greater Knights to the point where it sickened her. To become a Greater Knight required decades of immense training and battle experience.

The title itself reflected their gruelling journeys, countless battles, and immense wisdom they accumulated over the life they dedicated to their Kings.

Many would die for such a prestigious title.

… in fact, many already had. If they did not die trying, then they were given the ranks of White or Black Knights – a great title, nonetheless.

But a Hero was more than that.

It encapsulated everything that the Greater Knights possessed and beyond. From strength that only few humans could ever achieve to magic that breached into the [Seventh Tier] – it was easy to see why Heroes were highly regarded by all.

Aside from the obvious strengths, a Hero was the icon of the Kingdom. A face that that could sway thousands with a single word and bestow hope to those that despaired. They were individuals that sought a righteous path that was dictated by fate itself.

Therefore, depending on the Region, Heroes were considered the warriors of their corresponding Gods…

So why were they given such a grand title so easily when they knew themselves that they barely possessed these attributes?

Because they were merely chosen?

Because Haiyoto and Amy were summoned directly into the Capital’s castle on that fateful night?

Because she was also present on the night that the Otherworlders flooded through?

What redeeming quality did she have?

Lizen wanted to ask herself aloud in the mirror. She was only stopped by the grumbles of rolling thunder. She didn’t want to wake the others up. Especially not Amy.

That girl was particularly afraid of thunder.

She moved to the door with careful steps, wondering where her resolve had gone. While she strove to fit the image of a Hero, as did the others, they could not overcome their fatal flaw – fear.

This was what Lizen believed.

She could never forget the arrow that protruded from Exrite’s chest, or the bandits that were slaughtered so gruesomely on that night. The fear that paralysed them to their very soul could never be forgotten.

It rendered her utterly petrified and helpless. Even though they were more than capable of fighting, they could not bring themselves to lift a single finger. The feeling of her blood turning to ice as her body froze caused her brows to furrow; the only part of her face that expressed any notion of irritation.

A sudden sigh left her lips as she left her humble quarters. Upon her the first step into living room she immediately noticed a dim light hovering by the couches.

It was a miniature [Flare], and beneath its warm light were a pair of familiar faces. Surprised, Lizen squinted momentarily to see who these figures were despite already knowing who.

They roused tiredly from their woollen covers; Haiyoto revealing himself with a small nod as Amy hesitantly allowed the sheets to slip away from her face.

Lizen sensed wariness in the girl’s eyes, but that soon mellowed when they met with hers. Seeing the two still awake together in the living room roused a myriad of questions.

But she didn’t question them or arrive at an unreasonable conclusion. From the glimmers of unease in Amy’s subtle movements; she knew exactly why Haiyoto was by her side.

“I’m guessing you couldn’t get any sleep as well.” Haiyoto yawned, stretching slightly. “Is the storm also getting to you?”

“Partially.” Lizen softly answered as she approached the two with folded arms. “I have other things on my mind. I’m surprised to see you both awake at this time, though. I thought maybe you’d be sound asleep, especially you Amy.”

“Not in this storm. I’m everything but a sound sleeper.” Amy murmured, trying to smile through the fear that obviously clasped her heart. “Haiyoto’s here because I asked him to keep me company. I’m kinda glad you didn’t end up locking your door tonight. Hah… it’s like you already knew this would end up happening.”

“We’ve been together for a few months already, so course I’m going to know. Besides, I don’t think I’d be able to sleep knowing you were like this.” He softly spoke. “This is the least I can do to help. We have to be there for each other… Especially in times like these.”

There was a hint of self-ridicule in his voice. No one attempted to pry or ask further. All went silent as the sounds of the pelting rain and the reverberating grumbles engulfed their senses.

An awkwardness soon enveloped them as they silently sat there, wondering who was going to speak next.

Lizen took in a deep breath of the fresh air she so dearly needed and exhaled, shattering the silence.

“Can I ask you two something?”

“Go for it.” Haiyoto whispered.

“What does it mean to be a Hero?”

“… what’s this all of a sudden?” Amy asked, confused by the question that came from seemingly nowhere.

Haiyoto looked at her for a moment, his mouth silently parting. His voice betrayed him as he soundlessly spoke, trying to find something – anything to say.

The two noticed his hesitation and watched him as his gentle eyes fell to his lap. Lizen’s question struck something inside of him. Like Lizen, Haiyoto’s mind was filled with self-doubt.

But unlike Lizen, his self-doubt did not stem directly from his status of a Hero, but rather from within himself. If he could not fight for what was right despite his powers, then what was the point of possessing it in the first place?

“That’s… I don’t know. To be honest with you, I think the meaning of Hero has been watered down seeing that we’re considered Heroes. In your world a Hero is declared by fate – or the will of the Gods as you call it here.”

Haiyoto began, the words leaving his lips slowly as each carried the weight of an unknown emotion, but he did not allow it to drag him down completely into its mind-gnawing mud.

“I just wish we weren’t so indecisive. Or so scared. A Hero isn’t supposed to think if that makes sense. It sounds weird but think about it. In our world, a Hero moves before they think for what’s right. At least that’s how I remember it. Anyone who can save another’s life is a Hero in my eyes. That’s how a Hero should be defined.” He added.

“Right? Heroes aren’t supposed to have fears, but let’s face it – we all have things we’re all afraid of. Some things are reasonable, and some things are stupid than most.” Amy stifled a quiet laugh. “… I think what gives a Hero meaning is their ability to face their fears and push on for the sake of others. Unlike us who ended up getting demoted to scouts. But I’d be lying if I said that I wasn’t glad. Hah… it’s pathetic, isn’t it?”

“… it really is. But we’re all one in the same.” Lizen admitted, allowing Amy’s words to settle in her mind.

In truth, there was nothing more they wanted than to be able to conquer their fears. To be able to push through and use their strengths to help those in need. Their ideals of a Hero were strong, and they knew deep down that they were inherently capable of persevering considering their might.

However, their inability to kill another human or humanoid was their greatest foe. The fear of murder was heavily ingrained into their souls and went against the etched morals of their spirits.

After all, they all grew up in relative peace. Two came from a world where warfare was limited, and peace was abundant. Another was nourished by the comforts of her rich family behind the walls of the Capital, far away from the bloodshed beyond.

This was why adventurers vastly outnumbered soldiers in Truebirth. Many citizens here were hardly capable of killing a wild boar, let alone another person.

In fact, citizens took jobs that were aimed to sate these loyal adventurers, whether it be through merchanting, enchanting, smithing, eateries, or teaching valuable skills and magic.

The Capital of Truebirth was called the Adventurer’s Paradise for a reason, after all.

This placed a massive burden on the mentality of the Heroes as a result. They were Heroes by name and not by any noble or renowned doings. Simply knowing that their capabilities were not enough to match even a fragment of their status made it difficult to keep a straight face when spoken highly of.

“What can we do that the others can’t? If you two believe that Heroes are merely people that push on in the face of fear and death, then that can be anyone. And if we can’t even do that much, then how can we possibly call ourselves Heroes?” Lizen’s spoke with edge in her voice.

“That’s exactly why we’re only Heroes in name.” Amy spoke truthfully “… I want to help. But I’m scared. The past few days felt so slow and agonising… and now everything’s beginning to move so quickly now that we’re so close to the battle date.”

“You and I both.” Lizen nodded, slumping down lower beside Amy’s head. “Heroes in name. I hate it.”

“The least we can do is act as a scout for them.” Haiyoto sighed warmly. “Listen, we might be scouts but we’ll be the best damned scouts they could ever ask for.”

“… yeah. You’re right.” Amy stifled a genuine laugh, masking her mouth with the covers. “On the bright side we’ll be helpful in some way. I don’t want to disappoint or let anyone down even if this is the extent of what we can do.”

Lizen nodded again and revealed a faint smile. She adored the rays of positivity emanating from her dear friend, and as much as she wished to thank them, Lizen adamantly held off.

She instead showed her thanks by offering her shoulder to the frightened Amy as she embraced the warmth of their presence on this uneasy night. The red-haired girl looked up at her with a small smile before claiming Lizen’s shoulder for her own, and soon afterwards, the room fell into a cosy silence.

Somehow the sound of the unforgiving storm outside became comforting. The thunderous turmoil never subsided, but so long as Haiyoto and Lizen were snuggled up close by Amy’s side then she didn’t have much to be afraid of anymore.

Still though – it didn’t stop her from trembling. That was something she couldn’t help.

“And who knows – maybe our scouting will pay off in the end.” Haiyoto spoke.

“A scout singlehandedly changing the tide of war. That sounds impossible.” Lizen affirmed.

“But it wouldn’t be a bad story to hold on to. Maybe one day when were all dignified and strong enough to call ourselves Heroes we’ll look back at that story and laugh.” Amy whispered. “I hope everything goes smoothly. Khalis and Calin will be with us every step of the way. On the bright side – we’ll be safe. But again… it’s kind of hard to accept that we’re the real Heroes when we’re the ones being protected in the end.”

Lizen nodded for the nth time tonight.

“Exactly.” The faint whisper passed through Lizen’s clenched teeth as her eyes steadily closed. “Exactly.” She said again, her tone slightly more defeated and tired than before.

Lizen felt somewhat pleased despite this… Happy that she wasn’t the only one struggling with her title as a Hero.

Whether the Children of Balance bestowed such an acclaimed status on a whim or was by the work of fate was still up in the air, and quite frankly, impossible to tell. It was not like they could communicate with the Goddesses like the Priestesses of Balance.

It was also not like they haven’t tried communicating through Inkshard and Talia either. But of course – every question was only met with a deafening silence from the Priestesses. Neither of them knew what exactly the reason was for making them heroes, but nevertheless, it did not change the fact that they are the Heroes of Truebirth.

It just didn’t help that their strength was all they had as proof.

But what good would it do if they still could not stomach the sight of death, let alone the Undead?

With this thought looming at the forefronts of their mind like a parasitic disease – they could only hope for the best in the days to come.

For all they knew it could very well be their last.