--A Few Minutes Before the Attack--
“When do you think those old-timers will finally give up their powers?” asked one of the young soldiers as he spoke to another while lighting the beacon torches.
They had been ordered to light all the beacons because there was no moon to illuminate the darkness. Artificial lighting was too expensive and impractical to produce on a large scale.
“I don’t know, but things have gotten worse since Commander Elin was killed,” the older soldier sighed, his tone heavy with knowledge of the commander’s fate.
“They know who they’re fighting and still go through with it? I don’t get it. So many of us have been blackmailed. Thankfully, because of my position, they haven’t targeted me yet—but who knows when they will,” said the young soldier, his voice edged with unease.
“Don’t worry. Justice always wins in the end.” The older soldier patted the younger one on the shoulder, but as he did, something moved in the darkness, catching his eye.
He squinted, trying to make out the shape of the figure approaching the wall. But there was nothing—just shadows.
“SOUND THE HORNS! ENEMY ATTACK!” the older soldier suddenly yelled, readying himself as he saw kelp and vines being thrown over the wall, hooks tied to their ends.
Moments later, fishmen began scaling the walls.
“The fishmen are here! Cut their ropes! Don’t let any of them reach the top!” A voice rang out—a soldier covered in medals, resembling a political general. But unlike those who earned their accolades through bureaucracy or self-serving deeds, this man had earned him through genuine honor and valor.
The soldiers hurried to sever the ropes, but their efforts were in vain. More ropes appeared, and the fishmen kept coming.
“Sir, there are too many of them!” a panicked soldier cried as the fishmen climbed closer and closer to the top of the wall.
“Damn it! Sound the horn already, or I’ll kill you myself!” the general barked as he cut another rope and turned, yelling at the young soldier whose task it was to blow the horn.
The young soldier shook in fear, unable to act.
“What are you doing?! Do you want us all to die?!” The general roared, fury flashing in his eyes as he charged toward the young soldier, intent on grabbing the horn himself.
But another soldier stepped forward, blocking the general’s path.
“Are you all going crazy?” The general was flabbergasted. Someone not only dared to defy his authority but was putting the city in danger with their actions.
“We’re sorry, General. We have to do this,” one of the soldiers said, blocking the general’s path.
“Killing everyone in the city?” Shock registered on the general’s face, but before he could respond, a Fishman hurled a spear at him from more than forty meters away.
“You all…” The general tried to speak his final words, but blood gushed from his mouth as he fell to the ground.
“Sorry, General, but our families were on the line,” one of the soldiers said, grief in his voice as he closed his eyes. A spear then flew towards him, piercing his head and pinning him to the ground.
One of the soldiers, witnessing the scene and realizing it was only a matter of time before the fishmen breached the walls, abandoned his position and ran toward the horns.
The young soldier tried to stop the older soldier from making his way toward the horns, but he was shoved aside and fell on his butt.
With all his strength, the soldier sounded the horn.
“BWOOOON!”
Soon, the horn echoed through the city, one after another, and the entire city was mobilized. But dark figures began to move in the shadows.
“Let’s move and get rid of the old generals so we can take over this city and deal with them later,” said one of the figures, cloaked in dark clothing.
“Strange. Why did the fishmen attack us now? They shouldn’t be ready to wage a siege, and why wasn’t there any news from the outpost?” one figure wondered, surprised by the sudden development.
The other dark-clothed figure merely shrugged, starting to run toward his target position. Not getting an answer, he followed.
Soon chaos ensued in the city as generals were assassinated left and right. This fueled the remaining leaders to gather their troops from the old powers around them, moving toward the walls to reinforce them.
They swore they would stage a coup once this Fishman invasion was over.
But they were too slow. The fishmen had already reached the top of the wall.
Another general, seeing the dire situation, commanded his unit to control the magic cannons and aim at the fishmen on the wall. With no choice, it was a military command. He could only mourn the soldiers who fought on the wall, knowing they would be blasted away along with the fishmen. Part of the wall was also blown away from the sheer force, and now they had to wait for the cannons to cool down. If fired constantly, they would be permanently damaged.
With no other choice, the general had to send all his troops and himself into the fray against the fishmen climbing the wall.
“Don’t give up, soldiers! Reinforcements are on their way!” the general called, his voice strained as he looked at the soldiers emerging from the barracks and making their way toward the wall. But they moved too slowly at this rate, the fishmen would seize the entire wall.
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Sadly, the general had no time to dwell on this, as more and more fishmen scaled the wall. It was already hard for two people to fight against one Fishman, but now the numbers were against them—everywhere humans were being pushed back. Every minute, a soldier died.
“Why didn’t anyone sound the alarm? Whoever did this, I’ll put them on a military court!” the general roared, fighting even more desperately against the fishmen. But it was only a temporary boost to his strength before a Fishman stabbed him in the stomach.
Soon, the city wall fell into the hands of the fishmen.
The soldiers who made their way to the city wall were blocked by the city guard thugs, who wanted to rid themselves of the commanders. Greed had blinded them—seeing their end would not be far if they started a fight themselves—but greed is the eternal sin of man.
Soon, fights broke out in the city for power as the organizations betrayed the new city lord. They wanted all the power for themselves. It became a three-way fight—or could be said, a four-way—as the fishmen attacked everyone.
Chaos reigned as everyone fought against everyone. The first to lose were the old powers, as their ranks were assassinated and a few remaining made their way toward the wall, only to be stopped by both the city lord and the organizations and suppressed and killed.
Next was the city lord, as his backers were the organizations and most of his men were not loyal to him. This resulted in a bloodbath as he was killed with disbelief on his face.
The organizations emerged as the victors of the three-way fight, but one enemy remained the fishmen. Too many people died in the struggle for control, leading to a mass evacuation toward the portal, as everyone sought to return to Earth and abandon the city.
As for the cannons on the wall? The fishmen claimed them. They broke through the gate, dismantled the cannons, and carried them out of the city.
The fight ended with the fishmen winning it all. They burned the city to the ground and captured the cannons, which the organizations had paid a heavy price to acquire, only for the fishmen to seize them. The portal was also destroyed by the fishmen, severing the connection to Earth.
In a high-rise building that reached into the sky, the view was blocked by dark clouds and heavy smog in the air. After years of war, Earth’s atmosphere had become heavily polluted, making the Realms the only place where fresh air could be breathed. Many chose to live in the Realms where the air was fresh and calming to the mind.
In recent years, however, a new invention was introduced—one that could purify the air and was widely distributed, leading to improved air quality in the city itself. Outside the city, though, it was a different story—death awaited due to mutated creatures and new viruses, including the zombie virus, which had eradicated half of the total population. No one knew how it evolved or who might have created it.
Back at the high-rise building, in the highest office, an old man stood looking out the window. Behind him, four men shivered—three remained alive, the fourth having already been killed by the old man.
“So, why did you fail?” the old man asked in a calm voice, still gazing out the window. From his reflection, it was clear he was focused on the man on the ground, trembling.
“We—we were too rash, Sir,” one of them stammered, but his trembling ended abruptly as the old man punched him. The sheer force of his punch killed the man instantly.
The remaining two could only shut up, hoping they wouldn’t be killed or tortured.
“I didn’t hear the answer I wanted,” the old man said, as if his actions meant nothing.
“Sir, we’ll take back the city at all costs,” one of the remaining men replied, his brain racing to find the right words to please his boss.
Boom!
With another punch, the man died too, his answer falling short.
“The city is already lost, so how do you plan to capture it?” the old man asked, turning around to look at the last remaining man on the floor, trembling.
“Recently, the Golden Gate had a falling out with the Mayor of Zinith City. We can get closer to him and take over the city once he leaves,” the man replied, trembling, hoping his answer would satisfy his boss.
“Not bad. You live. But no more errors.” With that, the old man delivered another punch, crippling the man’s legs. “Now scram.” The man could only hold back his scream and agony as he crawled out of the room.
Knock! Knock!
Two knocks on the door.
“Come in,” the old man said, facing the door.
Soon, a butler entered. “Sir, the young master wants to see you,” the butler said, stepping aside to reveal a young man who entered.
He looked like the old man, only much younger—golden short hair instead of the old man’s long white hair. He had no beard like his grandfather, his sharp eyes darting around the room, collecting all the information he could. His face was youthful, and his body muscular from years of training. Honest in appearance, he would not stand out much from the crowd.
“Grandpa, killing people isn’t good. You made the carpet bloody again, and last time we spent a lot of money on buying it,” the young man said, paying no attention to the bodies on the ground, but rather to the blood staining the carpet.
Hearing this, the old man was caught off guard. He looked at the carpet and then back at his grandson.
“Don’t worry, we can buy another one. But we must punish those who harm the company,” the old man replied after collecting himself. His personality changed instantly once his grandson entered the room.
“But what about the city, and more importantly, the magic cannons?” the young master asked his grandfather.
“Oh, Hades, you don’t have to worry about that. Those things were only useful in the first realm, and we already have captured the old city lord and asked him nicely how to make those magic cannons. Even though we’re so nice to him, he won’t say anything, so we had to invite some specialists to help us out.” The old man spoke so casually, but if a normal person heard him, they would think he was a psychopath.
He even smiled while saying the old city lord was at fault for not cooperating with him. “If you say so, Grandpa, but will you watch my performance in the cup?” Hearing his answer, the youth was not taken aback as he had done something similar already.
But he was asking a question that made him uncertain—this question was more important than people’s lives his grandfather’s attention. He wanted to perform well in the cup to gain his grandfather's recognition, as he had two other siblings fighting for the company chairman position of the Dark Hawk. His father’s generation was classified by his grandfather as useless and not seen as having the potential to lead the company. He paid more attention to his grandchildren as multiple ones had the potential to lead the company.
“Of course, I’ll watch your big brother and sister participating in the cup, so why shouldn’t I watch yours?” the old man said, laughing at the end. He was extremely cruel to everyone except his lone daughter, whose child was Hades. His favorite child, of course, he paid special attention to. Hades had the highest potential with a whopping 104 gene cap, whereas his daughter had 94, and his other children had a mediocre range between 70 and 90.
He had taken numerous wives to ensure he had a worthy descendant to take over his legacy. He used his other two siblings as a grindstone for him. His big brother thought he would be the one inheriting the company, as he had a gene cap of 92, and his sister had a gene cap of 89 but was smarter than everyone else and only second to him. Sometimes he couldn’t guess what was happening in his granddaughter's mind, making him cautious about her. He had already decided that Hades would be his next heir but didn’t disclose it so his siblings could fight against each other, allowing Hades to mature earlier.
But this strategy also brought him trouble—he spoiled not only his daughter but his grandson too, whom both vied for his attention. Still, he soon became happy about it.
With his confirmation, Hades left with the butler.
Few knew the butler had a gene cap of 98. He could be a high-ranking executive, but he would rather look after the next heir. He knew why the next heir was much easier to brainwash and lead, gaining many more benefits. But he didn’t care that was something Hades would have to solve himself.
With these troubling tasks taken care of, he turned to look outside the window, his mind lost in thought—though no one could guess what it was.