In a world far, far distant from us, where kingdoms thrived under radiant suns and shadows stretched across untamed lands, there stood a barrier like no other—a testament to human ingenuity and resolve.
The Great Wall of Zorion loomed across the horizon, a colossal masterpiece of stone and steel that seemed to stretch on forever. Its sheer size defied comprehension, disappearing into the hazy distance where the curvature of the earth met the sky. No one standing atop the wall could see its end, for it extended so far that its towers and battlements faded into a shimmering mirage. Built as both a fortification and a declaration of strength, the wall had guarded the southern border of the Kingdom of Zorion for centuries, its presence unyielding and eternal.
The wall’s surface, constructed from dark, ancient stone, bore the faint scars of battles long past. Intricate carvings and runic etchings adorned its towering facade, said to imbue it with protective enchantments. Every few hundred meters, massive watchtowers rose, crowned with deep blue, curved roofs that glinted in the sunlight. These towers were fitted with beacons, ready to light up the wall in a fiery warning should danger approach. Crimson banners bearing Zorion’s emblem—a radiant golden sunburst encircled by elegant geometric patterns—fluttered proudly in the wind, a symbol of unity and vigilance.
Behind the wall lay the Kingdom of Zorion, a land of peace and prosperity. Unlike its war-driven neighbors, Zorion was known for its stability and wealth, earned not through conquest but through its fertile agriculture and thriving banking system. Its people lived in harmony, secure in the knowledge that their kingdom sought not to expand, but to perfect the art of living. At its heart stood Zion, a city as serene as it was beautiful, where cobblestone streets wove between elegant homes, bustling marketplaces, and stately halls of governance. Zorion’s influence came not from its size but from its reputation as a beacon of diplomacy and trust.
To the south of the wall, however, the world was untamed. The Open Lands stretched endlessly, a vast expanse of rolling grasslands, jagged cliffs, and shadowy forests. Wild beasts roamed freely, their cries echoing in the vast emptiness, and danger lurked in every shadow. It was a land that tested the brave and consumed the unprepared, a stark reminder of the chaos that Zorion’s wall held at bay.
On the wall, a group of knights sprinted along the stone pathway, their urgency palpable. Their polished steel armor reflected the midday sun, each piece adorned with engravings of intricate patterns that spoke to Zorion’s masterful craftsmanship. Crimson sashes crossed their torsos, adding a regal touch to their otherwise practical attire. Their helmets, crowned with plumes of red and gold feathers, gleamed in the light as they moved. Long capes fluttered behind them, and the rhythmic clatter of their boots echoed against the stone, a sound that carried their haste.
“Sir Luis Amador!” one of them shouted, his voice rising above the wind. The group came to a halt before a lone figure standing at the edge of the southeastern tower.
Luis Amador turned at the sound of his name. Standing tall at 6’2, he was a young man in his early twenties, his athletic frame and composed demeanor giving him a presence that demanded attention. His sharp features—a strong jawline, high cheekbones, and piercing blue eyes—were framed by unruly black hair that fell beneath the brim of his wide-brimmed hat. His expression, though calm, carried a spark of readiness, as if he were always prepared for what lay ahead.
Luis’s attire blended elegance with practicality. A high-collared white coat, trimmed with intricate gold embroidery, hugged his frame, its hem flaring slightly as he moved. A crimson sash was tied at his waist, and a plume of the same deep red adorned his hat, completing the striking ensemble. His trousers, slim and neatly tailored, were tucked into polished brown boots that reached just below his knees. Across his back, he carried a longbow of impeccable craftsmanship, its carved details both beautiful and deadly. A quiver filled with silver-tipped arrows hung at his side, a quiet promise of his precision and skill.
“What is it?” Luis asked, his smooth voice carrying both authority and composure.
“Something is coming!” one of the knights said, his tone urgent. “From the southeast—it’s moving fast. Faster than anything we’ve seen!”
Luis’s relaxed demeanor shifted instantly. His piercing blue eyes narrowed, and his posture straightened, the change in his presence undeniable. “Take me there,” he ordered, his voice sharp and commanding.
Without hesitation, he began to move. His long strides carried him forward with incredible speed, his coat billowing behind him as he passed the knights who struggled to match his pace. The air around him seemed to hum with purpose, his every step precise and unwavering.
It was clear to all who saw him that the Kingdom of Zorion’s Arknight was ready to meet whatever approached head-on.
Luis Amador raced across the Great Wall with the grace and speed of a seasoned warrior. His long coat flared behind him as he closed the distance to the southeastern section, where smoke and chaos filled the air. The closer he got, the more the reality of the breach became clear. A gaping hole marred the once impenetrable wall, its stone shattered and torn apart as if by some monstrous force. Scorch marks and deep gouges lined the edges of the break, and debris was scattered across the ground.
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The scene beyond the breach was a nightmare. Bodies of knights and workers lay in grotesque heaps, their armor twisted and flesh mangled as though something had torn into them with ravenous fury. Blood soaked the earth, pooling in the cracks between the stones, and torn banners fluttered limply in the wind. Limbs and viscera littered the ground, the aftermath of a savage attack that left none alive. It was as if whatever had breached the wall had devoured the life out of the place, leaving only gore and silence.
Luis came to a halt, his sharp eyes scanning the carnage with a cold, calculating gaze. He unslung his bow with practiced ease, the weapon gleaming faintly in the dimming sunlight. Reaching into his quiver, he drew a single arrow, its tip reflecting the light like a blade honed to perfection. Without a word, he nocked the arrow and stepped to the edge of the broken wall.
Beyond the breach, the forests of Zorion stretched into chaos. The trees swayed unnaturally, their branches creaking and snapping as something large moved beneath their canopy. Then, Luis saw it—a massive shadow darting between the trunks, its speed and size unnaturally terrifying. It scurried with a primal hunger, its form indistinct yet menacing, and every instinct in Luis’s body screamed that it was far from human.
His hands were steady as he pulled the bowstring back, his movements deliberate and precise. His piercing blue eyes shifted, the irises flaring with colors that seemed alive—orange and black, swirling and sparking like flint igniting an inferno. The air around him grew heavy as an otherworldly energy coursed through him, channeling into the arrow. The shaft began to pulse with orange-white energy, the light rippling along its length like liquid fire. A deep, resonant hum filled the air, as if the arrow itself was consuming the surrounding sound, holding it within as it grew impossibly dense and heavy in Luis’s hands.
The tip of the arrow began to glow, a blinding white-hot light that seemed to vibrate with barely-contained power. The pressure was immense, the energy radiating from it distorting the air around the arrow, as though reality itself bent under its force. The knights behind Luis instinctively stepped back, their faces pale as the air grew thick and oppressive.
Luis exhaled sharply and released the arrow.
It shot through the air like a meteor, trailing a brilliant streak of orange and white that illuminated the darkened forest. The sound of its release was deafening, a thunderous roar that echoed across the breach as the arrow tore through the trees. It moved faster than the eye could follow, an unstoppable force that seemed to carve a path through the very air.
The arrow struck its target, vanishing into the shadow beneath the trees. For a brief moment, there was silence—a stillness so profound it was as if the world held its breath.
Then came the explosion.
The impact erupted in a blinding burst of light and fire, an inferno that consumed everything in its radius. Trees were obliterated, their trunks splintered into shards that flew in every direction. The ground buckled and cracked, a shockwave rippling outward with such force that even the knights on the wall staggered, bracing themselves against the vibrations. A deafening roar filled the air as the explosion expanded, its heat and brilliance visible for miles. The sheer destructive force left a massive crater where the shadow had been, the surrounding forest reduced to ash and smoldering ruins.
Luis stood motionless, his bow still raised as the aftermath of the explosion settled. His face was cold, his expression unreadable, as if the destruction he had wrought was nothing more than a routine exercise. The swirling colors in his eyes faded, leaving only his piercing blue gaze fixed on the smoldering devastation.
Behind him, the knights exchanged nervous glances. One of them, barely above a whisper, leaned toward his companion. “That’s why they call him the Explosion Arknight.”
The knights whispered behind him, but Luis raised a hand, his voice calm but sharp. “Be quiet,” he ordered, his eyes fixed on the smoldering remains of his strike. The forest before him was a scene of utter devastation—trees obliterated, the ground cracked and scorched. Yet, despite the destruction, he couldn’t see any signs of movement or life where the creature had been.
For a long moment, Luis stared into the wreckage, his sharp blue eyes scanning for even the faintest shadow. The swirling colors in his eyes had faded, but the tension in his jaw remained. Whatever it was, it didn’t seem to have survived. Still, doubt lingered in his chest like a persistent ember.
After a moment, he straightened, turning his back to the devastation and facing the knights. His voice carried the same unshakable authority as before, cutting through the tense silence. “Go. Send an alert to the king immediately. Tell him the wall has been breached by an unknown entity. I want reinforcements dispatched here as soon as possible.”
The knights nodded quickly, their boots echoing against the stone as they turned to carry out his orders. Before they could leave, Luis added, “And bring builders. This section of the wall needs to be repaired immediately. Have some soldiers reassigned here to change the guard. We can’t leave this breach undefended.”
He glanced back at the bodies scattered across the blood-soaked ground, the sight grim and sobering. His voice softened, but his tone was no less resolute. “Find out the names of the men who died here. Their families will need to know what happened. They deserve that much.”
The knights hesitated for only a moment, then bowed their heads and hurried off, their armor clanking as they disappeared down the wall. Luis watched them leave, the sounds of their movement fading into the distance, leaving him alone amidst the eerie quiet of the broken wall.
He looked out at the forest again, his fingers instinctively brushing the edge of his bow. The question lingered in his mind, refusing to let go: What was that thing?
The unease gnawed at him, but there was no answer. The shadow was gone, and the forest was silent.
But what Luis didn’t know was that the creature had survived. Deep in the shadows of the forest, it scurried onward, its massive, unnatural form moving swiftly beneath the cover of the trees. Its movements were quieter now, more calculated, as if it had learned to avoid detection. The devastation Luis had unleashed was nothing short of extraordinary, but it wasn’t enough to destroy the thing that had breached the wall.
Whatever it was, it was still alive. And it was still moving.