The night lay over the land like thick ink, casting a somber and tense atmosphere. Within the sacred halls of the Light Church, Paladin Adam stood alone before a towering stained glass window, gazing into the darkness outside. Clad in silver armor inscribed with intricate runes, the faint golden light reflected in the moon’s glow symbolized divine protection. Yet, even in this sacred armor, Adam could not shake the unease settling in his heart.
For years, Adam and the warriors of the Paladin Church had battled against the dark agents of the Dreadbane. The influence of the Dreadbane had crept into every corner of society, even infiltrating the Mage Association. His followers held high-ranking positions within the association, using their influence to sway decisions, eliminate those loyal to the Church, and expand the power of darkness. Multiple attempts to uproot these hidden forces had been thwarted, each foiled at a critical moment by agents of the Dreadbane lurking within their own ranks.
However, a massive purge led by the Light Church finally offered a brief respite. Under the guidance of the Great Sage, a young Seer, blessed with visions of the Divine Father, was sent to root out traitors within the church. This Seer, a figure of formidable wisdom and devotion, became a radiant beacon of hope, cleansing the church of corruption and uniting the three major sects under a single banner. He quickly gained the reverence of followers, breathing new life into the congregation.
This unity brought renewed hope to the church and its believers. People poured into the streets, praying fervently for the warriors to return triumphant, cleansed of darkness. Adam, as the Paladin leader, was keenly aware of the stakes, knowing this was a battle not just of arms but of faith. Dreadbane’s power, shadowy and vast, seemed unbreakable, yet Adam held firm, meticulously planning each attack, knowing that failure would mean darkness forever enshrouding the land.
On the eve of the holy war, Adam summoned his knights and warriors to the grand sanctuary. Standing in the center, his voice echoed in the silent hall as he proclaimed the church’s mission. This was to be a battle of life and death, the ultimate struggle between light and darkness. His gaze swept over the faces of his soldiers, seeing the strength in their eyes, though each understood the terrible fight that awaited. With unwavering resolve, they departed the sanctuary as dawn approached, setting off to wage the holy war.
The drums of war thundered through the dawn, echoing through thick clouds that choked out the morning light. At the edge of the battlefield, the vast army of the Light Church, led by Adam, stood in perfect formation, their silver armor reflecting dim rays of dawn, faces hardened with a fervent determination to vanquish the darkness. Opposing them, a dreadful horde of the Dreadbane’s army stretched across the horizon, a tide of shadows threatening to engulf the land.
Adam raised his sword high, his voice cutting through the murmur of fear among his soldiers. “For the Light!” he bellowed, his words filled with fierce conviction. The knights answered in unison, a tidal wave of voices pledging loyalty to the light. And with that, the silver-armored soldiers surged forward, their shining swords glinting as they clashed against the tide of shadowy soldiers.
Dreadbane stood at a distance, watching with cold calculation. Cloaked in robes shrouded in malevolent green energy, he exuded an aura of dark authority. With a single motion, his undead forces launched their attack, creatures and shadows slashing toward Adam’s army like living darkness. These soldiers, once alive, now bore hollow eyes and relentless loyalty to the Dreadbane, fearlessly clashing with the paladins.
Adam fought at the forefront, every swing of his blade bringing down a darkened creature. Yet, no matter how many fell, new waves took their place, as if the battlefield itself churned with boundless malice. The knights faltered, watching fallen comrades rise again as Dreadbane’s minions, turned against them by dark magic.
Realization dawned upon Adam as he saw the endless surge of enemies: he was battling not just physical threats, but a sorcery capable of draining the very essence of his soldiers’ spirits. Dreadbane’s laughter echoed in his mind, mocking him with each swing of his sword. This battle was not merely a test of strength but a challenge to his faith, a terrifying reminder that failure here would spell the end of the Light Church’s era.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
Beyond the battlefield, whispers of defeat grew into a tide of dread among the common people. At first, they had faith in the Light Church, believing the paladins would return victorious. Yet as news of defeat after defeat trickled back, once-steadfast believers began to doubt. In streets, taverns, and markets, people muttered about the name of Dreadbane, as though uttering it might summon calamity itself.
An elderly woman, shaken and hollow-eyed, recounted tales of Dreadbane’s army, “I saw them with my own eyes. Empty eyes, no soul…” The children huddled close, eyes wide with fear, their mothers holding them close, trying in vain to comfort them. Men exchanged uneasy glances, unable to voice their own fears aloud, though each began to wonder if the Light Church truly held the strength to overcome such darkness.
The rumors multiplied, each growing darker than the last. “Dreadbane cannot be defeated,” some whispered, recounting tales of his untouched form sweeping through the battlefield, untouched by mortal hands. “He’s invincible,” murmured a young man, his words seeping into the crowd like poison, eroding any lingering belief in the church’s victory.
As their belief wavered, so too did their loyalty. In secluded gatherings, desperate individuals began whispering prayers to Dreadbane, hoping to secure his favor in exchange for safety. Public prayers dwindled, offerings vanished, and sermons fell on deaf ears. The Light Church’s influence crumbled as people, lost to fear, abandoned their once unshakable faith.
The catastrophic defeat weighed heavily on the Light Church, sending shockwaves through its foundation. Within the solemn hall, senior clerics gathered, casting weary glances as silence filled the room. Each bore the hollowed expressions of those who had seen their deepest beliefs uprooted. The archbishop, who had once championed the crusade, now stood at the center, authority slipping from his grasp.
The quiet shattered as a young priest rose, eyes blazing with anger. “Why should we bear this burden for those who turned away?” he demanded, his voice echoing through the hall. “They abandoned the Light! Why should we continue to protect those who turn to darkness?”
The archbishop’s response was solemn but firm, “We must guard the Light, even if others falter.” But this only deepened the rift among the church’s ranks, fracturing unity once built upon shared purpose. Faith in the archbishop’s leadership, and indeed in the Light itself, wavered as doubt crept into their hearts.
Meanwhile, Adam sat alone in the infirmary, staring at the clouded sky. His right hand bore the mark of Dreadbane’s power, a wound that defied every healing attempt. Memories of fallen comrades haunted him, a relentless reminder of his own failure. He, once the champion of light, now felt his own faith faltering as he questioned if the Light was truly powerful enough to overcome such darkness.
This growing uncertainty spread through the younger knights, who once looked to Adam as their hero. Now, seeing him consumed by his own doubts, they too found themselves questioning the strength of the Light. Where once hope and courage had flourished, now only silence and uncertainty remained.
The Light Church, now fractured and bereft of unity, sank into an unshakable gloom. In the grand hall, clerics and priests cast hollow gazes at one another, each a shadow of the faith they once held. The archbishop, weary and silent, felt his authority crumbling along with the church’s standing, but he could do nothing to reverse it.
A voice broke the silence, “Have we been wrong all along?” An elder’s question resonated through the hall, revealing the sorrow and doubt that plagued them all. Younger clerics, filled with resentment and betrayal, spoke out, demanding retribution for those who had abandoned them.
Adam sat alone in the infirmary, lost in despair. His once-bright gaze was now empty, bearing the shadow of Dreadbane’s wounds. His every breath was heavy, haunted by memories of the battle, the screams, the endless waves of undead soldiers. Dreadbane’s words echoed, “Light will be devoured by darkness.” The battlefield, now distant yet vivid in his mind, replayed his every failing, tormenting him with unyielding bitterness.
As word spread of Adam’s despair, the younger knights, who had once idolized him, felt their own resolve crumble. The Light Church, once a bastion of unity and faith, now trembled on the brink of collapse, each soul infected with doubt as darkness crept into their minds. The Light Church was all but doomed, its foundation rocked by the dark tides of fear and failure, and as shadows thickened around them, the end of an era seemed inevitable.
"Nightmare is coming....."