After Kho’s banishment, Kai and Yholm found themselves assuming roles they had never anticipated. Both promoted to generals, each now carried the weight of their own responsibilities, following different paths but with the same overarching goal: to protect Oosa and its people.
Kai remained in Genom, guarding against any possible return of Raizzen. The demons’ threat was still present, and the world around them had become more dangerous than ever. Even with Kho’s absence, Kai’s commitment to their shared vision remained strong. Her new role as a general only deepened her resolve to protect the future Kho had dreamed of for the Demi Giants. But, in the quiet moments, she could still feel his absence, and doubts began to surface as to whether Oosa would ever truly accept the Demi Giants as they deserved.
Meanwhile, Yholm's orders were clear: he was to lead his forces to Bara, where the demon Alrune had once again begun to wreak havoc. But Yholm’s journey was not without complications. Goan, despite being assigned to accompany him, chose to remain behind with the bulk of his forces. Goan, ever focused on his personal ambitions, had bigger plans. He would save his army for his ultimate goal: overthrowing the emperor himself. He saw little value in intervening in the Eastern lands, especially when Oosa’s own struggles were at stake. So, he left Yholm to handle Alrune, a task that he saw as expendable compared to his own schemes.
Yholm did not falter, though. He had always been a warrior at heart, and he was determined to put an end to Alrune’s destructive rampage. The journey to Bara was long, and the destruction there was far worse than he had anticipated. Alrune’s dark magic had corrupted the land, and her influence was felt in every ruined building and scorched earth. The region was in chaos, and Yholm knew that he had to act swiftly.
But as he prepared his forces, something far more fearsome appeared on the horizon—a dragon. Drasko, the mighty white dragon of the Draconic Empire, descended from the sky, his immense wings casting shadows over the battlefield. His roar shook the earth, and his very presence sent a ripple of fear through the demons who were still hiding in the area. Yholm’s heart sank. There was no comparison between his army and this fearsome creature.
In a split second, Yholm realized the danger of staying in the path of Drasko’s wrath. With a shout of “Retreat!” he ordered his soldiers to fall back. They had no place in a battle between a true dragon and a demon. But Drasko was not one to be deterred. With a single bound, he charged at Alrune, and the fight that ensued was a one-sided massacre.
Alrune, though powerful in her own right, made the fatal mistake of refusing to flee. Despite the overwhelming presence of Drasko, she stood her ground, using her demonic powers to freeze the dragon in place with a blast of ice from her cursed blue eye. But it was no use—the ice shattered in mere moments, unable to contain the overwhelming force of the dragon. Drasko retaliated with a powerful barrage of white energy orbs, each one causing immense damage to Alrune’s form. The demon fought back, but it was clear that she was outmatched.
In a final, cataclysmic move, Drasko released a beam of pure white energy from his maw. The laser tore through the air and obliterated Alrune in an instant. The demon was destroyed, and the remnants of her dark influence were burnt away by the white flames that followed. Drasko’s fury did not end there, as he continued to cleanse the land of the lesser demons that had hidden in the aftermath of Alrune’s destruction. Nothing could survive the wrath of a true dragon.
Yholm, watching the battle unfold, understood that his forces were nothing in comparison to the raw power of Drasko. He had been right to retreat. The true dragons of the Draconic Empire were an unstoppable force, and there was no shame in standing down before them.
But as Drasko disappeared into the sky, leaving Bara smoldering in his wake, Yholm turned to his army. His resolve was steeled. This was only one battle in a much larger war, and Oosa’s struggle was far from over. The demons were not gone—Alrune was only one among many that still threatened the world.
Durr, who had stayed behind in Genom with Kai to continue watching over the region, had relayed to Yholm that even though the demons had been pushed back, the threat was still very real. Kai, now fully entrenched in her role as a general, remained focused on defending Oosa’s borders. And Yholm’s mission was still far from complete. He had come to Bara to fight Alrune, but the battle had turned into a reminder of just how small their forces were compared to the true power of the world’s ancient beings.
Yholm vowed to return to Oosa with the news of Drasko’s victory, knowing that even in the face of such overwhelming power, the war was not over. Oosa had to continue fighting. But now, more than ever, Yholm knew that the key to victory lay not only in defeating the demons but in navigating the larger struggles between empires, dragons, and the factions of Oosa itself.
For months, the Dwarfs of Memoheim had fought a desperate and losing battle against the demonic invasion. The disappearance of magic among their kind had left them defenseless, unable to utilize their most powerful weapons or enchantments. Their grand capital had been reduced to rubble, the council of elders obliterated, and their once-formidable army of 700,000 warriors reduced to fewer than 50,000 scattered survivors.
The Demon King Stolas himself had claimed Memoheim as his throne, ruling over the ruins while his forces terrorized what remained of the Dwarf Kingdom. The Dwarfs clung to the belief that slaying Stolas might sever the demonic connection to Arche, yet they lacked the strength to face him directly.
Adding to their despair, rogue dragons occasionally attacked Memoheim, striking surviving groups of Dwarfs indiscriminately. While the Dwarfs still hoped for help from the Draconic Empire, they knew such aid might come too late.
Among the demons wreaking havoc in Memoheim, Malphas, Stolas’ loyal right hand, led relentless assaults to ensure the Dwarfs had no chance to regroup. Meanwhile, Remnon, the demon doctor, stayed close to Stolas, maintaining the Demon King’s strength and tending to the needs of the demonic forces.
When Kho and his army of 1,000 Demi-Giants finally arrived, it was a faint glimmer of hope for the Dwarfs. For months, they had waited for Oosa’s help, believing their plight had been ignored. When the signal came that reinforcements had arrived, they anticipated a grand army. What they found instead was a small, ragtag force led by a disgraced general.
Leading the Dwarven resistance was Memo Rakioho, the last surviving Magister of Memoheim, a title once held by the most elite commanders in their military. Though disheartened by the small number of reinforcements, Rakioho still greeted Kho and his troops with respect.
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“You’ve come at last,” Rakioho said grimly, bowing his head. “Memoheim has suffered greatly, but your arrival may turn the tide.”
Kho saluted the Dwarven leader. “We are few, but we are strong. Show us the battlefield, and we will fight beside you.”
Rakioho’s face darkened. “The battlefield is everywhere, and nowhere is safe. Follow me—we must move underground before the demons spot us.”
The Dwarfs led Kho and his army to a hidden trench, revealing an intricate underground passage. For the Demi-Giants, this was an entirely new experience. Giants never hid; their kind thrived on open confrontation, fighting with raw strength and towering presence. Yet Kho ordered his troops to comply, understanding the Dwarfs’ strategy of survival.
The underground refuge was a network of tunnels and chambers, hastily constructed yet robust. The Dwarfs had created makeshift forges, medic stations, and command posts in these hidden spaces, a testament to their resilience.
Rakioho wasted no time briefing Kho. “The demons patrol the surface endlessly. Stolas commands them from our former capital, and Malphas leads the attacks. If we are to have any hope of defeating them, we must kill Stolas. But even getting close to him is a death sentence. The few of us left can barely hold out as it is.”
Kho studied the maps Rakioho provided, his mind already planning. “We’ll need a distraction—something to draw their forces away. What about the dragons? Have there been any sightings?”
Rakioho’s expression grew bitter. “Some dragons have attacked us, others are scattered. Only Drasko, their king, might intervene, but he hasn’t been seen in months.”
Kho’s jaw tightened. “Then we hold the line until he does. Malphas is your biggest threat right now. If we can take him down, it will buy us time to prepare for Stolas.”
The days that followed were a flurry of activity. Demi-Giants and Dwarfs worked together to fortify their hidden position, sharing what little resources they had. Kho divided his army, placing Niga and Niger in command of 250 soldiers each, while he led the remaining 500.
Scouts reported that Malphas was preparing for another large-scale attack. The demon’s forces had grown bold, spreading chaos across Memoheim while Stolas remained firmly entrenched in the ruins of the capital.
Kho stood with Rakioho, studying the crude maps of the surrounding area. “If Stolas is staying on his throne, he must believe himself untouchable,” Kho said. “But that arrogance might be his downfall. We’ll weaken his forces by taking out Malphas first, then plan our move against the Demon King.”
Rakioho nodded, though his expression remained grim. “If we lose this battle, there will be no Memoheim left to save. Our people are counting on you, General Kho.”
Kho turned to his troops, his voice steady and commanding. “Prepare yourselves. This will be unlike any battle we’ve fought before. Trust the Dwarfs and follow their lead. Together, we will hold this ground and remind the demons that Memoheim does not fall easily.”
The Demi-Giants saluted their leader, their resolve unshaken despite the daunting task ahead. Niga and Niger exchanged a glance, their usual camaraderie replaced with quiet determination.
As the underground stronghold prepared for battle, Kho’s small army became the symbol of resistance for the Dwarfs. Though vastly outnumbered, they stood ready to face the coming storm, knowing that victory here could turn the tide of the war against the demons.
Deep in the underground refuge of Memoheim, Kho and his Demi-Giant forces prepared for battle. The tunnels echoed with the clinking of tools and murmured voices, as Dwarfs and Demi-Giants worked side by side to fortify their defenses. But amid the preparations, Memo Rakioho, the last Magister of the Dwarfs, had something important to share with Kho.
“General,” Rakioho said, stepping forward. “Before we continue, I want to show you something… unique. Wait here.”
Kho nodded, curious but patient. Rakioho disappeared into the shadows of the tunnel, returning moments later with a small, unassuming object in his hand.
It was a ring, simple in design yet emanating an unmistakable energy. As Rakioho held it up, Kho felt something strange—a faint pulse, almost as if the ring were alive.
“This,” Rakioho said, “is what remains of one of my comrades.”
Kho raised an eyebrow. “Remains? What do you mean?”
Rakioho’s voice grew solemn. “A few months ago, during one of our many battles against the demons, one of my closest comrades fell in battle. His body, like so many others, was left to rest. But in the days that followed, it didn’t decay as expected. Instead, it simply… vanished, fading away. And in its place, this artifact appeared.”
Kho took the ring, studying it carefully. It was heavy for its size, and its surface shimmered faintly, as though imbued with magic.
Rakioho continued, “This ring isn’t just an object. It’s alive, in a way. When I put it on, it creates a barrier around me—one strong enough to deflect even the mightiest attacks. But it’s not without cost. Using it drains my own life energy. The more I rely on it, the weaker I become.”
Kho nodded slowly. “A weapon of immense power, but with a price. What do you call it?”
Rakioho’s face softened. “I call it a Magister, in honor of my fallen comrade. He was a commander, a protector of our people. This artifact, like his memory, continues to shield us even in his absence.”
The conversation shifted as Rakioho asked, “Has anything like this happened in Oosa? Have your people noticed the appearance of these… Magisters?”
Kho shook his head. “Not that I’ve seen. But then, Oosa has its own way of doing things. The Giants aren’t exactly observant when it comes to subtle changes. They wouldn’t notice unless it were large enough to crush them.”
Rakioho smirked at the remark, but his expression soon grew serious. “These Magisters appeared at the same time the demons arrived, and they’re not the only mystery. Our inability to use magic also began with the demons’ invasion. It cannot be coincidence.”
“You think the demons caused it?” Kho asked.
Rakioho hesitated. “Perhaps indirectly. But I suspect someone else is responsible. Someone with the knowledge and power to twist the laws of magic itself. The Dwarfs have long suspected Venadyl’s involvement, and we believe this to be the work of their greatest mage—Aigam.”
Kho frowned at the name, remembering the whispered tales of the Venadylians’ might and treachery. “Aigam… What would he gain from this?”
Rakioho shook his head. “That is what we do not know. Even the best minds of Memoheim could not unravel his motives or methods. But whoever—or whatever—is behind this, they’ve changed the very fabric of Arche.”
The conversation left Kho with much to ponder, but he couldn’t help but notice something else: the warmth of the Dwarfs. Despite their dire circumstances, they treated the Demi-Giants with respect and kindness, seeing them as allies and saviors. It was a stark contrast to Oosa, where Kho and his kin endured constant scorn and insults from the full-blooded Giants.
“These Dwarfs…” Kho thought to himself. “They value strength, but they value character even more. They don’t see us as lesser beings, like the Giants do. Perhaps there’s more to strength than size alone.”
As the Dwarfs continued to work, Rakioho placed a hand on Kho’s shoulder. “You and your people have come a long way to help us, General Kho. I see the resolve in your eyes, and I know you won’t fail us. Together, we’ll make Memoheim rise again.”
Kho nodded, his determination growing. “We will fight, Rakioho. For your people. For ours. And for Arche.”
As night fell in the tunnels, Kho sat alone, holding the Magister ring. Its faint pulse seemed to echo his thoughts. This was no ordinary artifact; it was a piece of the fallen, a testament to the resilience of the Dwarfs and their will to survive.
But it was also a warning. The demons were not the only threat. Somewhere in the shadows of Arche, a greater force was at work—one that had the power to reshape the world. And Kho knew he would need every ounce of strength, courage, and resolve to face it.
The battle for Memoheim was only the beginning.