The story begins high above the demon kingdom, where a dark and ominous aura swiftly consumes the northern city of Mürrenvale. Commander Thal watches his soldiers closely, particularly the sorcerers, now powerless in the face of this threat. Staring up at the sky, cloaked in demonic magic, he mutters to himself, "Yoranios’s spell... I’ve only heard rumours, but how could he possibly cover the entire kingdom like this? Is it due to intense training, or is it raw talent? I doubt it’s the latter, and I can’t believe this spell comes without consequences."

Meanwhile, in the southern city of Clovendell, Yoranios’s dark influence is also felt. Aurelius, realizing he too has lost his magic, calmly observes, "Perhaps losing my magic is a blessing in disguise." As he watches a horde of monsters advancing toward the barrier, he rallies his troops with a command: "KNIGHTS, TO ARMS! SORCERERS, FALL BACK!"

But the sorcerers' commander, gripping his bow, steps forward. "Sir, we can still fight! My men and I will stand by you, Lord Aurelius."

Aurelius nods with a grin, quipping, "Turns out sorcerers can do more than just wave their wands, after all." His remark draws laughter from the soldiers, lightening the mood as he shouts, "PREPARE FOR BATTLE!"

Back in the capital, citizens were in awe as the same black aura descended upon their city. Despite the grim atmosphere, many still held hope, chanting, "Queen Jane, save us and our kingdom!"

Watching from within the capital’s protective barrier, Lilithra glanced at Taffer and Sina, both staring up at the Yoranios's spell in the sky. Suddenly, Huf, the second son of Monroe, burst into the room and joyfully embraced Lilithra. "Auntie Lilithra! I missed you!"

Smiling warmly, she hugged him back, teasing, "You little rascal! I missed you too! Come on, let's go play with your sister." As they walked off, Taffer remained deep in thought. Sensing his concern, Sina asked, "What’s on your mind? Do you think we can win this fight?"

Taffer, his face lined with worry, replied, "We’ll win this one, but the next? I’m not so sure. Who are we even up against? Are they the same foes or new enemies with more knowledge, endless resources, and deeper connections than before?"

In the eastern city of Biboria, also within the reach of Yoranios's spell, Kunvy and Commander Aurola felt the oppressive power sweep over them. Aurola, visibly alarmed, said, "Lady Kunvy, I can’t feel it! My magic… it’s gone!"

Kunvy, remaining composed, warned, "Don’t try to use it. Yoranios’s spell can suppress even the most powerful sorcerers, but it’ll take a toll on him. If that’s the only price he pays, we’re lucky."

Spotting the undead army advancing, Aurola’s eyes narrowed. "They’ll breach the barrier. Get ready, Lady Kunvy."

Kunvy, gripping a massive sword, spoke calmly but with a weary edge, "Knights, prepare yourselves. This won’t be an easy fight."

In the western city of Turin, Reyanna and Jane were shocked as Yoranios’s spell cut off their powers. Jane muttered in disbelief, *I thought his spell only affected those weaker than him. Why is it affecting me? I’m the strongest demon here!*

Meanwhile, the sorcerers, along with Mahin, Nearf, General Gij, and a visibly drained Yoranios, armed themselves as the undead army, having broken through the barrier, began their attack.

Nearf and Mahin, faster than anyone, dashed toward the enemy, cutting down the undead with swift, devastating strikes, leaving chaos in their wake.

Reyanna, gazing down at her powerless hands, sighed with a tinge of disappointment. "I never imagined Yoranios would sacrifice his people for anything. Perhaps I was wrong about him."

She glanced at Jane, a smile creeping across her face. "Now neither of us has magic. How about we settle this like dignified women of high rank?"

But Jane, without a word, picked up a blood-stained sword, her expression deadly serious as she marched toward Reyanna. Unfazed, Reyanna stepped back and unsheathed her dagger, smirking. "Good thing I got my hand back, or this would’ve been quite the annoyance."

Jane unleashed a ferocious strike at Reyanna’s face, but Reyanna deftly blocked it, quickly countering with a second dagger hidden in her other hand. Jane reacted swiftly, grabbing Reyanna’s left arm and unexpectedly headbutting her in the face, shattering her nose.

Though blood streamed down her face, Reyanna remained composed. Without magic, every wound lingered—more than just a nuisance for the untrained but manageable for her.

In retaliation, Reyanna landed a powerful kick to Jane’s leg, snapping her knee with a sickening crack. Jane, undeterred by the pain, gripped Reyanna’s left hand and crushed her fingers with a brutal crunch.

Freeing her right hand, Reyanna drove her dagger into Jane’s left cheek. Jane, unwavering, struck back by plunging her sword into Reyanna’s shoulder.

Both combatants stepped back, putting distance between themselves. Reyanna glanced at her injured hand, noticing a faint glow. With a serious expression, she declared, "Gyovani’s spell can’t bind the Mother of Witches forever!"

Meanwhile, on the battlefield, Yoranios, exhausted and gasping for breath, sought cover behind Nearf and Mahin as they held back the advancing undead. General Gij, tense with urgency, urged, "Yoranios, you must rise! We can’t hold them off much longer, and we can’t protect you forever!"

Yoranios, signalling for a brief reprieve, leaned against a boulder, trying to recover. Nearf, slashing through another undead foe, suddenly pointed skyward and shouted, "YORANIOS! THE DRAGON!"

Yoranios turned to see an undead dragon looming above, preparing to unleash a devastating breath of fire. Summoning his remaining strength, he rose and shouted, "LIGHT MAGIC!"

A radiant sword of light materialized, slicing through the dragon’s chest. The beast fell, crashing onto the horde of undead beneath it, crushing scores of monsters. General Gij, witnessing the spectacle, remarked, "It’s a blessing you're still able to wield magic, Sir."

Panting, Yoranios struggled to his feet. "Let’s... move!" he commanded wearily.

On the frontlines, Mahin joyfully tore through the undead, crushing a wolf’s skull with ease. Nearby, a dragon, riddled with arrows from demon archers, collapsed beside him, still clinging to life.

The undead dragon, bloodied and struggling, turned to Mahin, locking eyes with him. Mahin smiled and taunted, "Take your final breath, you abomination." As the dragon prepared to strike back, Nearf intervened, swiftly decapitating it. He hurled the dragon’s head toward a bear creeping up behind Mahin. The bear staggered from the impact, and before it could recover, Mahin whirled around and cleanly severed its head from its body.

In frustration, Nearf snapped, "What the hell are you doing? Stop playing around and kill the monsters!"

Mahin shrugged, unfazed. "You always ruin the fun, Nearf. What's the point of a battle if there's no challenge? I enjoy it when they fight back—it’s more satisfying when you finally take them down."

Nearf, clearly annoyed, fired back, "People are dying! Kill one and move on before another life is lost. The quicker we deal with them, the safer everyone is. Stop fooling around and get to work!"

With an indifferent expression, Mahin nodded and headed toward the frontline where the monsters were closing in. As he moved, he muttered to himself, "Their numbers are thinning... This is getting boring. Let’s make the most of it while it lasts."

Not far from the western castle, hero Rina stood vigilant, attempting to summon her light magic, but to no avail. Reflecting on the situation, she mused, "Yoranios’s spell really does block magical abilities. I can't sense or summon any of my power. Fascinating..."

She then turned her gaze toward the battered walls of the western castle, worry crossing her features. "Rolf... what’s your next move?" she wondered aloud.

Within the courtyard of the western castle, Reyanna glanced up at the sky, her expression hardening. "Rolf, you betrayed me! The reinforcements you promised never arrived. You've sealed your fate, my old friend."

In a hidden location, a female elf clad in golden armour observed Rolf, who sat trembling in a chair, his breathing ragged. She spoke calmly, "Are you facing death?"

Rolf shook his head, unable to speak. Instead, a subtle smile played on his lips.

Back at the castle, Reyanna turned to Jane and declared, "I am Reyanna, the Mother of Witches! I hold the knowledge of all magic, and no spell can escape me. YORANIOS, YOUR MAGIC IS BUT A CHILD'S TRICK IN MY REALM!"

Her mind flashed back to Zephoria’s words: "What if Yoranios uses his spell—the one that blocks magic from others? For those of us who rely on magic, his enchantment poses a grave threat."

Reyanna nodded, resolute, and asserted, "I understand, but I will outlast it. His magic may overwhelm those weaker than him, but I’ll force him to stretch its power across the entire kingdom. The strain will weaken his spell’s durability, and in doing so, weaken him and cripple most of his forces, who rely on that magic."

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Lysandra then voiced her concern, "But it will hinder us too, Mother. What should we do when that happens?"

Reyanna replied calmly, "By then, you will have already summoned the undead. March toward the capital—everything else is already in motion."

Back in the present, Reyanna flashed a wicked grin at Jane, who stood in shock as magic began to flow once more through Reyanna’s hand. "The Mother of Witches can dispel any enchantment," Reyanna declared. "Queen Jane Gray Gyovani—the dead Queen."

A powerful surge of dark magic surged through Reyanna as she reflected, *That wasn’t easy. I focused on building a shield of ancient magic—a small but effective defence against Yoranios’s dark aura. With this, I can restore my magic, and they can’t break his spell without giving my witches the time to summon more undead. Yoranios may be the only magic user left, but he’s weak. Victory is mine.*

Reyanna then looked toward the sky, her expression cold and determined. "Now that my magic is back, it’s time to deal with you, Rolf."

Raising her hand, she intoned, "Dead spell: *aktivləşdirin.*"

Miles away, seated in his chair, Rolf’s body convulsed as he let out a scream of agony. The female elf beside him, terrified, asked, "Sir! Can you fight it?"

Gripping his chest, Rolf’s voice strained as he shouted, "Teleportation magic!" A brilliant light enveloped him, and in an instant, he vanished, leaving the elf behind, trembling. She stared at the empty space where he had been, left to wonder whether Rolf could survive Reyanna’s merciless spell.

As Reyanna lifted her hand, preparing to cast a deadly spell on Jane, who was hiding among the ruined castle walls, she muttered to herself, "I must end her, end the Gyovani bloodline once and for all. They're too resilient. I also need to buy time for the witches to complete the magic circle in the capital, so I can teleport there. Killing Yoranios is the key to restoring magic to every witch."

Suddenly, Reyanna’s gaze shot upward, her voice trembling with urgency. "My daughters! I can’t feel them! NO, NO, NO, NO!" Her voice broke as she realized the crushing truth—only Zephoria remained. A single tear slipped down her cheek, grief overtaking her as the weight of her loss set in.

Meanwhile, Jane spotted the body of a fallen knight, his sword and shield still intact despite the scorch marks. She equipped herself and stood, resolved to face Reyanna. But before she could advance, a shadowy figure appeared before her. Startled, she looked up at the figure and muttered, "I didn’t expect *you* to show up."

Reyanna, her sorrow turning into quiet determination, began chanting, her voice laced with pain as tears streamed down her face. She waved her hands and invoked her magic, "Ancient magic: *qalxan*. Teleportation magic: *cadugərlər torpağı*."

At the witches’ concealed refuge, where Zephoria and the remaining witches had been hiding, a sudden light engulfed one of the witches. Panic set in as the glowing witch cried out, "Sister Zephoria!"

Zephoria turned just in time to see the witch disappear before her eyes. Moments later, all the witches began glowing, including Zephoria herself. "Mother, what are you doing?" Zephoria whispered, her voice filled with dread.

In an instant, all the witches vanished. When they reopened their eyes, Zephoria and her sisters found themselves standing in the witches' land castle. A witch cleaning nearby gasped, startled by their sudden arrival. "Sister Zephoria?" she asked in confusion.

Zephoria stood there, sorrow weighing heavily on her, struggling to process what had just transpired. Moments later, Cixilia entered the chamber with three other witches. She stopped short at the sight of Zephoria and rushed forward to embrace her, sensing something was terribly wrong.

Zephoria, still in shock, asked with a trembling voice, "Where are my sisters? Lysandra? Azravene? Evangra?" Her words were filled with deep concern and fear.

One of Lysandra’s followers, recently teleported with the group, stepped forward, her voice filled with regret. "I’m afraid Sister Lysandra has fallen."

Zephoria clutched her chest in grief as another witch added with sorrow, "Evangra too. I joined the battle in the northern city… I heard that Yoranios killed Azravene."

Zephoria's legs weakened as the overwhelming loss of her sisters sank in, her heart heavy with grief.

With tears streaming down her face, Zephoria scanned the surroundings frantically, searching for someone, before turning urgently to Cixilia. "Sister, Mother teleported us! We have to go back!"

Cixilia, however, shook her head in quiet defiance. "No, Mother Reyanna brought you here for a reason. We have to leave her behind."

Zephoria’s frustration boiled over. "You fool!" she shouted, her voice breaking with emotion. "She’s our mother—yours, mine, *ours*! How can we abandon her when she needs us? Have you lost your DAMN MIND?!"

But when Zephoria met Cixilia’s gaze, she froze. Her sister’s face was twisted with an equal measure of pain, anger, and grief. Tears welled in Cixilia’s eyes as well, but her tone was calm, though exhausted. "As the Mother of all Witches, I command you to leave Reyanna behind. My heart urges me to fight with her until the very end, but as sisters, we must think of the future of our daughters—the witches. We have to choose wisely who we follow. As much as it hurts me, and I know it breaks you even more, we must sacrifice her."

Zephoria, stunned and broken, began to sob uncontrollably. Silent tears poured down her cheeks as memories of Reyanna and her fallen sisters flooded her mind. She recalled every precious moment with her mother—the woman who had given her life, taught her magic, and loved her unconditionally. Reyanna had always nurtured her daughters, forging an unbreakable bond within their magical family.

Zephoria’s cries intensified as the weight of loss settled in, the witches surrounding her, offering gentle comfort. Cixilia held her tightly, and the others stroked her back and hair—an ancient gesture of mourning, their collective sorrow palpable.

Meanwhile, back at the western castle, Reyanna stood alone, a bittersweet smile on her face as she whispered, *I must protect you all.* She paused, her voice trembling as she added, "Requiescat in Pace to those we've lost. Thank you… for everything."

After a long, silent moment, Reyanna looked down at her hand, now glowing with a dark aura. Her expression hardened, and she spat with venom in her voice, "Rolf, the spell has claimed your treacherous soul. BURN IN HELL, TRAITOR!"

Reyanna shifted her attention back to the chaos of battle and declared with resolve, "I’ll reach the demon pool soon, but first, I’ll summon more monsters and undead to flood this kingdom—enough to overwhelm the capital."

As she raised her hands to begin the incantation, a sharp pain pierced her back. She turned in shock to see Fenris Gyovani, his rogue armour splattered with blood, silently recounting the foes he'd slain to reach her. Without hesitation, he plunged a second dagger into her abdomen.

Reyanna grabbed Fenris's hand, stopping him from driving the blade further. In an instant, she chanted a lightning spell, fully expecting to fry him on the spot. But to her surprise, his armour absorbed the entire attack, leaving him unharmed.

Fenris, quick to react, reached for another dagger, but Reyanna, equally fast, muttered, "*təkan*." A burst of wind knocked Fenris aside, giving her a moment to clutch her wounds and focus on healing.

Suddenly, Jane appeared behind her, delivering a brutal slash to Reyanna’s left side, followed by a shield bash to her face. The force shattered Reyanna’s mouth, sending teeth flying. Blood poured from her mouth as she staggered back, but even in her weakened state, she muttered "*təkan*" once more, sending Jane hurtling away just long enough to catch her breath.

Knowing she needed to end the fight quickly, Reyanna began to chant with urgency, "*Summoning magic: Ölməyənlər.*"

In an instant, twenty undead beasts—bears, wolves, and ghouls—rose from the ground, their rotting forms radiating death as they charged toward Jane and Fenris. The siblings braced themselves, their weapons ready, but the sheer number of monsters threatened to overwhelm them.

Even as Reyanna bled heavily, her body wracked with pain, she pulled back from the battlefield. Blood streamed from her wounded side, her teeth broken, her bones shattered, yet her focus remained unshaken. Her mind stayed fixed on one goal—the survival and prosperity of her witches. No amount of suffering, no brutal injury could stand in the way of her vision for a peaceful future for her daughters.

As Reyanna began healing her wounds, she recalled a distant memory of a man chopping wood, his form strong and steady. Watching from a distance, she whispered his name, "Kaldrek," while she focused on mending her injuries.

Meanwhile, on the frontlines, Mahin swiftly dispatched another dragon, then turned to Nearf, who was catching his breath. "Tired already?" Mahin teased. "I expected more from you, short guy."

Without warning, Nearf flung his shield at Mahin, blocking a demonic beast that had crept up to strike. Mahin grinned. "Well done, short guy. A few more beasts like these, and we can call this a good day."

Nearf initially looked irritated at Mahin, but his expression quickly turned to concern when he noticed the extent of Mahin's injuries—his left leg damaged and missing flesh, and three of his fingers gone. "Can you still fight?" Nearf asked, his tone laced with worry.

Mahin, flashing a wicked grin, replied, "Why stop now? I haven't fought in over three centuries; my soul longs for battle and bloodshed. To stop now, because of a few injuries? What a joke."

Nearf, rolling his eyes in exasperation, shot back, "I can't say much for your wounds, but your brain's definitely been gone for a while. If fighting's all you're good for, then by all means, keep going."

Across the battlefield, Yoranios brought down a magical wolf while General Gij swiftly beheaded it. Panting, Yoranios muttered, "They’re relentless. We have to keep pushing."

General Gij nodded, wiping his blade. "We’ve taken moderate losses, but we’re forcing them back."

Suddenly, a demonic beast was cleaved in two! Yoranios looked up to see a squad of forty individuals in black armour swiftly cutting down the monsters. Most wielded swords or daggers, while six fought with nothing but their bare hands.

As Yoranios stood, he observed the men calmly walking through the chaos around them. One of them approached—slightly shorter than Aurelius, with black hair, deep-set eyes, and pale skin marked by a small scar on his chin. His face, though not flawless, was decent, especially in contrast to Yoranios. With his hands behind his back, he stepped forward.

Yoranios glanced at him, acknowledging with a nod. The man returned the gesture and said, "Brother Yoranios, I’m here for my Gyovani duty. We’ll finish this—rest easy now."

Yoranios, hearing these words, sat down on the ground to catch his breath. Looking at his brother, he remarked, "Took you long enough, Serathis."

Meanwhile, in a small village near the witches’ lands, an elderly man sat in quiet contemplation, staring toward the woods.

After buying a horse from a merchant, he rode toward the witches' lands. At the border, he was stopped by three witches. One stepped forward, asking, "What brings you here, sir? Show us your guild papers."

The elderly man replied, "I have none. I’m simply looking for my wife. I haven’t seen her in years, and I have a bad feeling."

The witch shook her head. "Without papers from the adventurers’ guild or the merchants’ guild, we can’t let you enter."

As they spoke, another sorceress approached, instructing, "Send for Cixilia—this is important."

The first witch hesitated. "Why bother Cixilia with this?"

"I’ve seen him with our Mother Reyanna before," the sorceress explained. "I don’t know their connection, but we need to send a message to the castle."

The elderly man spoke again, calm and direct. "Please, summon my wife. Her name is Reyanna."

In the witches' castle, Cixilia was in conversation with another witch when a messenger arrived. "Sister Cixilia, there’s an issue at the western border. Could you come?"

Cixilia nodded. "We’ll use teleportation magic. But be careful—Monroe is watching us."

Back at the border, the witch who had spoken to the elderly man said firmly, "You can’t be her husband. I can tell just by looking at you."

At that moment, Cixilia appeared with two witches by her side. She stopped when she saw the elderly man—a ghoul with weathered grey skin and a large white beard. Despite his advanced age, likely over 120 years, he stood tall and imposing, a trait enhanced by his ghoul lineage.

Their eyes met, and a soft smile appeared on the man’s face. Cixilia, visibly stunned, stared at him, her voice trembling with disbelief as she whispered, "...Father?"