The midday sun beat down over the Gal-Auro plains, casting long, shifting shadows as the earth trembled under the advancing horde. JD stood beside Arlan, his blades already drawn, a rare edge of seriousness in his voice. “First time we’re facing these things together, huh?” His eyes tracked the shifting mass in the distance, tension rippling through his frame. “Dark Fiends… Didn’t think they’d look this savage.”

Niren, still composed, replied. “Don’t let their barbaric appearances deceive you. They’re capable of tactics.”

“Alright If we let the clusters grow any larger, heading into the Iron Grotto will be suicide. We need to subjugate this wave before they gather more strength.” Arlan’s voice carried the calm of experience, but there was an underlying urgency to his words.

Arlan gave a silent nod, already scanning the horizon as he measured the incoming threat. The Dark Fiends surged forward, their numbers swelling with each passing second. He could feel the familiar pulse of the Monarch’s Regalia thrumming within his core, preparing him for battle. His eyes flickered over the three distinct groups moving toward them, each more menacing than the last.

“Imps,” Sophia’s voice interrupted his thoughts, her tone as cold and precise as ever. “Small, fast, and relentless. Their hound-like forms are built for speed, and their claws tear through the ground, but they’re weak individually.” From the distance, the Imps indeed looked like a shadowy flood, low to the ground as they charged.

“Reapers,” Sophia continued, guiding his attention to the larger figures following behind. The hulking humanoids moved with berserk fury, their wild swings cutting through the air even from afar. “Stronger, berserker instincts. Don’t let them swarm.”

Arlan’s eyes then locked onto the towering figures lumbering behind the Reapers, massive and slow, yet commanding the battlefield like dark titans. “Baphomets. Slow, but their tusk-like scythes will cleave through anything in their path.” The light caught on their gleaming weapons, reflecting an ominous glint that promised devastation.

Arlan stood firm at the head of his group, his expression calm, even as the chaos closed in. The weight of battle was nothing new. His Monarch’s Regalia, a power unseen but felt in every breath he took, pulsed through his core, fortifying his essence. His grip on Starshadow tightened, the mithril greatsword humming with a silent energy. The five runes etched into its surface flickered faintly—waiting.

“Keep the line tight,” Arlan said, his voice low but clear. “Let’s see what we can do when we work as one.”

JD flashed him a grin, his dual mithril longswords already drawn. “Piece of cake,” he said, rolling his shoulders as if warming up for a sparring match. His eyes locked on the approaching Imps, and the excitement in his voice was palpable. “These things won’t know what hit them.”

To his right, Niren nodded, his shield raised. A quiet incantation fell from his lips, and the familiar shimmer of his black magic resistance buff spread out, enveloping them all. “I’ve got the curses handled,” he said. “Just don’t let them get past us.”

“They won’t,” Arlan assured him, stepping forward as the first of the Imps lunged.

With a fluid motion, Arlan swung Starshadow—the weightless rune made the greatsword move like it was part of his own body, slicing through the air in a deadly arc. The blade cut cleanly through the first Imp, its red core shattering with a burst of dark essence.

Arlan barely registered the fiend’s death as the second rune, the siphoning rune, glowed briefly, absorbing the fallen Imp’s remaining energy and feeding it back into his core. The next Imp never made it to him—an arrow from Yanie’s longbow pierced its chest, the holy enchantment searing through its body before it dissolved into ash.

JD darted forward, his twin blades flashing as he took out two Imps in quick succession. His strikes were fast and precise, the first blade disemboweling an Imp while the second finished it off with a clean cut to its throat. “These little ones are barely worth the effort,” JD muttered, spinning out of the way as another fiend lunged at him, its claws slicing through empty air.

“They’re not supposed to be difficult unless they come in overwhelming numbers,” Niren replied, stepping in to block a Reaper’s wild swing. The heavy claws scraped against the shield, sending sparks flying, but the Reaper’s attack couldn’t break through the Paladin’s defenses.

With a quick thrust of his sword, Niren pierced the Reaper’s side, the blade sinking deep. The fiend let out a guttural growl before collapsing to the ground. “But we can’t get sloppy.”

Another Reaper rushed toward them, its eyes wild with rage, but before it could get close, Arlan flicked his wrist, and Starshadow flew from his hand. The greatsword spun through the air, its retrieval rune glowing faintly, before burying itself in the Reaper’s chest with a sickening crunch. Arlan summoned the sword back to his hand, the motion smooth and effortless as the dead fiend crumpled to the ground.

“You make that look easy,” JD called over his shoulder, grinning as he sidestepped another Reaper’s heavy claw swipe.

“It is,” Arlan replied with a smirk, swinging Starshadow in a wide arc to decapitate the nearest Imp. “Focus, JD.”

Yanie, stationed further back, fired another arrow. Her shots were steady and deliberate, each one hitting its mark with deadly precision. “Reapers are getting too close,” she muttered, nocking another arrow and firing at an approaching Reaper. The holy-infused projectile hit the fiend between the eyes, and it dropped instantly. “Let’s thin them out.”

From the side, Chrysta, Marie, and Yuna were locked in their own rhythm, working seamlessly against the towering Baphomets. Marie, wings of dark flame flaring from her back, grinned as she conjured a green-hued fireball in her hand. “Bet you can’t keep up with me, Chrysta,” she teased, launching the fireball at a Baphomet’s leg. The creature roared in pain as the flames seared through its thick hide.

Chrysta’s eyes narrowed, her voice cold. “You’ll regret saying that.” With a flick of her hand, she summoned a [Nixstorm], the icy needles pierced and freezed the ground beneath the Baphomet. Its massive hooves slipped on the frost, slowing its movements as the cold bit into its skin.

Yuna weaved between them, her staff crackling with lightning as she swung it into the Baphomet’s side, the electrical charge coursing through the creature’s body. “Stop showing off,” she said, laughing as the Baphomet stumbled from the combined assault. “We’ve got more work to do.”

Marie shot her a grin, summoning another flame to her hand. “I’m just getting started.”

As the last of the Reapers fell, their red cores shattered beneath the weight of Arlan’s group, the field began to quiet. The Imps had been wiped out in moments, the Reapers struggling to get close before being cut down, and now the Baphomets were the only fiends left standing.

Arlan stepped forward, wiping the blood from Starshadow with a quick motion. “We’re improving,” he said, his eyes scanning the battlefield. “Our cohesion is getting better. Let’s finish this.”

JD nodded, flipping his blades in his hands. “Let’s make it quick then. I don’t like leaving a job half done.”

Niren smirked, raising his shield again as the final Baphomet roared, preparing for a last, desperate charge. “This won’t take long.”

With renewed focus, the group moved as one, their coordination sharp, every strike landing with lethal precision. As the last Baphomet fell, its tusks shattered beneath the weight of Starshadow, the field fell silent once more.

“We’re getting better,” JD said, sheathing his swords with a satisfied sigh. “Not that it was much of a challenge.”

Arlan smiled faintly, lowering his blade. “No, but it’s not about the challenge. It’s about learning to fight alongside each other, especially with Niren around.”

As the last of the Dark Fiends crumbled into dust, Arlan felt the battlefield settle into an eerie calm. His breath evened out, but Starshadow remained in his hand, its dark surface still gleaming with faint, lingering energy. He exchanged glances with JD and Niren, both of them alert despite the lack of immediate threat.

Suddenly, a familiar voice echoed in his mind, "Master Arlan!”

It was Sophia. Her tone carried a weight that made his senses sharpen. He glanced to the east, instinctively trusting her warnings. "There’s a boy—a teenager. He’s being hunted by orcs. They're closing in, and fast."

Arlan’s expression hardened. “How far?”

"About 726 meters. You have minutes, if that."

“Orcs,” Arlan muttered under his breath, the urgency settling in his chest like a stone. He turned to his companions, eyes flashing with intent. “There’s a boy in danger nearby, chased by orcs. We move—now.”

JD’s grin faded, replaced by a serious nod. “Lead the way.”

“Shit-Shit-Shit!” cursed the boy under his breath as he was fleeing from a gang of orcs. “How the hell did I get myself into this?!”

The boy’s legs burned as he ran, lungs heaving with every desperate breath. The thundering steps of the orcs grew closer, their guttural voices grunting in excitement as they closed in. His heart pounded in his chest.

“I'm not going to make it!” He stumbled on a root, tumbling to the ground as an orc, larger than the others, loomed over him with its axe raised high.

At that moment, time seemed to slow. The boy squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the strike that would end his life.

A sickening crunch followed, but the pain never came. Instead, the orc’s massive body collapsed to the side, its head rolling across the ground. Standing where the orc had been was a woman—a beautiful yet terrifying woman with pale skin, crimson eyes, and jet-black hair. Her hands had transformed into clawed weapons, dripping with blood.

The boy’s breath caught in his throat as the woman turned toward the remaining orcs. Without a word, she launched into them like a force of nature, her claws rending through flesh as if the orcs were made of paper. Blood splattered across the ground in thick sprays. She moved with a grace that was both elegant and brutal, the violence almost poetic in its efficiency.

One orc tried to flee, but the woman raised her hand, and with a crack, the earth beneath the orc erupted, a sharp bone spike impaling it. The orc’s scream was cut short as its essence and mana were drained, leaving only a hollow shell.

The boy watched in silent horror, his body frozen, too terrified to move or even scream. He had never seen such brutal efficiency in a fight. Every orc fell in seconds, their bodies broken and drained of life.

The woman turned to him, her crimson eyes narrowing slightly. He found his voice, though shaky and weak. “Who... who are you?”

She regarded him for a moment, her expression unreadable. Then, as if deciding he was not a threat, she turned to leave. But just before disappearing into the shadows of the forest, she glanced back over her shoulder and spoke.

“Akasha Renferal.”

And with that, she was gone.

Arlan and his party arrived shortly after, the ground littered with the mangled corpses of orcs. Blood stained the grass, and the air was thick with the scent of death. Arlan’s eyes scanned the scene before resting on the boy, sitting in a daze near the remains.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

“Tebald?” Arlan called, recognizing his former roommate from Lancel High Academy.

The boy’s head snapped up at the familiar voice. “A-Arlan?” he stammered, his body still trembling.

Arlan sheathed his greatsword, while walking over to the boy. “Are you alright? What happened here?”

Tebald swallowed hard, trying to gather his thoughts. “I... I was running from the orcs. They almost killed me, but then... she came. This woman—Akasha Renferal—she... she killed them all.”

“Akasha Renferal?” Arlan repeated, confused. He had detected the orcs dying on his [Heraldic Vision], but no one else had appeared in the vicinity. “I’ve never heard that name before.”

Sophia, Arlan’s spirit guide, chimed in, her voice echoing in his mind. “There was a mention of someone like her in the adventurer’s guild back in Auron. A woman with no core—someone who can’t be detected by conventional means.”

Arlan’s brow furrowed. “No core?”

Sophia’s tone was thoughtful. “That’s why you couldn’t sense her. If she has no core, she wouldn’t show up on any magical detection. But her strength... she must be at least the equivalent of a sixth-tier white core.”

Marie stepped forward, curiosity flickering in her eyes. “What were you doing out here, Tebald? I thought you were studying in Oreta.”

Tebald took a shaky breath. “I was... but I found something. A discovery about a potential artifact—something like the Intaritas Cannon used by House Kaiser at the Battle of Eisanyr.”

That caught Arlan’s attention. His eyes darkened, remembering the devastation that cannon had caused. “An artifact weapon similar to the Intaritas Cannon?”

Tebald nodded, still shaken. “Yes... I don’t have all the details yet, but if it’s true—this could change everything. I need to see Lady Dafni!”

The revelation sent a ripple of unease through Arlan’s group. Chrysta stepped forward, her gaze sharp. “We should discuss this back in Auron. It’s getting dark, and this area isn’t safe anymore, especially with the Iron Grotto’s unstable rift nearby.”

Arlan nodded, his expression hardening. “Agreed. We’ll escort you back to Auron, Tebald. This isn’t the place to be talking about dangerous artifacts.”

As the sun began to set, they gathered their things and prepared to make their way back to Auron. But in the back of Arlan’s mind, the name Akasha Renferal lingered like a shadow. Who was this mysterious woman? And why was she so interested in hunting orcs near the Iron Grotto?

The warm, familiar walls of the Reeve Manor offered a stark contrast to the eerie silence of the battlefield they had just left behind. The group had gathered in the grand hall, where Lady Dafni sat at the head of the long oak table, her expression calm but sharp as she listened.

Across from her stood Archmage Jin, his robes brushing the floor as he silently observed the proceedings. Arlan and his companions were seated around the table, with Tebald at the center of attention.

Tebald shifted nervously in his chair, still shaken from his encounter with Akasha and the orcs, but there was a determined gleam in his eyes. He took a deep breath before speaking. “While I was studying at the Grand Archives in Oreta, I came across a scripture. It was brought in recently—pre-Cataclysm.”

That caught everyone's attention. Even Lady Dafni leaned forward slightly, her eyes narrowing. “Pre-Cataclysm? Go on.”

Tebald nodded, his voice gaining strength as he continued. “The scripture connects several artifacts that have been mentioned throughout history. It references the Intaritas Cannon used by House Kaiser at the Battle of Eisanyr, but that’s not all. It goes on to describe that the Intaritas Cannon wasn’t just a standalone weapon.”

Marie, who had been casually leaning back in her chair, sat up at the mention of the cannon. “We already know that the monster of a weapon wreaked havoc at Eisanyr. What’s new about it?”

“The Intaritas Cannon was the prototype,” Tebald said, his words deliberate. “According to the scripture, a newer, more advanced version was created. One that was far smaller, more portable—something that could be wielded by a single person.”

Silence fell over the room as the weight of his revelation sank in. Arlan’s eyes darkened with concern. “A handheld version of the Intaritas Cannon?”

“Yes.” Tebald nodded. “It was never widely used—at least, not as far as I could find. But the fact that a weapon like that exists... or could exist... changes everything.”

Lady Dafni, however, was still unconvinced. She folded her hands on the table, her gaze skeptical. “Even if such a thing were true, Tebald, what does it matter if the artifacts remain lost? The Intaritas Cannon and anything related to it are relics of a forgotten time. As long as they’re out of reach, they’re nothing more than myths.”

Tebald hesitated, his gaze flickering between Arlan and the others. “I thought the same thing,” he admitted. “Until I overheard something while in Oreta. Some adventurers were talking about a recent discovery made in the Free Cities of Yura.”

At the mention of Yura, JD’s eyes narrowed. “The dwarves?”

Tebald nodded again, his excitement returning. “Yes. The dwarves in Yura found an ancient artifact in one of the old ruins—one that matches the exact description of the handheld Intaritas weapon.”

Archmage Jin, who had been quietly listening until now, raised a thin eyebrow. “The dwarves are not known for exaggeration, and their understanding of ancient mechanisms is unmatched,” he mused. “If they have indeed discovered such a weapon, it could pose a significant threat. To whom, however, remains to be seen.”

Arlan leaned forward, his expression thoughtful. “If the dwarves found this artifact, they might not even know what they’re sitting on. But if we know about it, then it’s likely that others do as well.”

Sophia’s voice echoed in his mind, cold and sharp. The Firane Elves.

Arlan’s jaw clenched. “The Firane Elves must be after it too. If they’re looking for a way to shift the balance of power, an artifact like that would be exactly what they need.”

Lady Dafni exhaled slowly, finally beginning to see the weight of the situation. “So we have a potential handheld version of one of the most destructive weapons ever created... and it's possibly in the hands of the dwarves.” Her sharp gaze landed on Tebald. “Tell me there’s more.”

“There is,” Tebald said, his voice growing quieter but more intense. “The dwarves can’t fire the weapon. Not yet. The scripture I found mentioned that the Intaritas weapons required a special component to activate. And...”

He hesitated, as if afraid to voice the next part.

Arlan’s voice was firm. “And what?”

“And,” Tebald continued, “I believe that component is called the Disk of Absolution.”

The name sent a ripple through the room, a weight that seemed to settle heavily on everyone's shoulders. Lady Dafni’s eyes widened slightly, a rare crack in her normally composed demeanor. She leaned forward, her voice steady but with an edge of something deeper. “The Disk of Absolution… I know where it is.”

The group turned toward her, shocked. Even Archmage Jin’s usual calm shifted as his eyes flickered with curiosity.

“You know where it is?” Chrysta asked, incredulous.

Lady Dafni nodded, her gaze far away as if she were recalling a long-buried memory. “It’s a secret passed down through generations of House Lancel. Few outside my family even know of its existence. The Disk of Absolution is hidden deep within the Iron Grotto. We’ve known its location for centuries, but we never retrieved it because its purpose was... unclear. All we ever knew was that it could amplify mana to a degree we couldn’t comprehend. My ancestors feared what it could do if it fell into the wrong hands.”

Arlan’s expression hardened. “So it’s more than just a piece of the puzzle for the dwarves' weapon. It’s a power amplifier... and it’s sitting next to a Naraka Lord.”

Lady Dafni’s voice was laced with a grim undertone. “Yes. And if the Firane Elves or Yuran Dwarves get their hands on it, they could use it to tip the balance of power irreversibly.”

JD let out a low whistle, shaking his head. “We’ve got to get to it first.”

Marie leaned forward, her hands clasped tightly, her wings flexing slightly in agitation. “This means our goal at the Iron Grotto is clear. We secure the Disk of Absolution, and we stop Soketh. But how could there be a connection between the two?”

Arlan’s eyes were thoughtful, his mind racing. “Soketh must know what the Disk can do.”

Sophia’s voice echoed in Arlan’s mind. There’s no other reason Soketh would have grown to such a godly power without the Disk of Absolution.

A heavy silence settled over the room, tension thick in the air.

Suddenly, the doors to the grand hall burst open with a loud crash. Yozac stumbled into the room, sweat pouring down his face, his breathing heavy and labored. His face was pale, and the look in his eyes sent an immediate chill through everyone present.

“The rift at the Iron Grotto!” Yozac gasped, struggling to catch his breath. “A scouting party... they—they caught a glimpse of how many Dark Fiends are inside.”

JD was already on his feet, his eyes flashing dangerously. “Out with it, Yozac! How many?”

Yozac’s face twisted with fear and disbelief as he looked up at JD, his voice shaking. “A legion of over a hundred thousand Dark Fiends.”

The room fell into a stunned silence, as if the very air had been sucked out of the manor. Arlan’s hand gripped the edge of the table so hard his knuckles turned white. The others exchanged shocked glances, each of them knowing what this meant.

`Arlan's eyes locked onto Lady Dafni, tension coiled in his voice. “How long do we have until the rift collapses completely?”

Lady Dafni met his gaze, her tone grave, each word heavy with urgency. “Two weeks.”

The silence that followed was suffocating, the weight of her answer settling over the room like a death sentence.

Niren’s calm demeanor cracked for a moment, his shield resting beside him as he muttered, “A hundred thousand... that’s...”

“Impossible,” Chrysta whispered, her usually cold demeanor showing a rare flicker of vulnerability. Her purple eyes shifted to Arlan. “Even with the Banner of the Claw, we don’t have enough to withstand that kind of force.”

Marie, her eyes blazing, slammed her fist on the table, sparks of flame flickering around her fingertips. “That’s not a legion—that’s an army. What the hell is Soketh planning? I thought he just wanted to fight you, Arlan?”

Arlan stood, his posture commanding as he took control of the room. “Emmeline.”

The princess, who had been sitting quietly until now, met his eyes with a determined gaze.

“Get Dink Rorschach,” Arlan ordered, his voice firm and unwavering. “We need the Royal Army here immediately.”

Emmeline nodded without hesitation, rising to her feet. “I’ll get word to him at once.”

As she turned to leave, Arlan’s gaze fell on Yozac again. “Is Duke Frank aware?”

Yozac nodded quickly. “Yes, he’s already called for his bannermen. They’re mobilizing as we speak.”

Arlan’s eyes shifted to Jovann, who had already anticipated the command before Arlan could say it. “I’ll send for the Banner of the Claw immediately,” Jovann said with a curt nod, his tone resolute. “A messenger pigeon will reach them.”

The room buzzed with grim determination as Arlan’s closest companions, JD, Niren, Chrysta, Marie, Yuna, and Fiala, exchanged serious looks. They understood the gravity of the situation—there was no more time for hesitation.

Arlan paced, his mind racing with the enormity of what lay ahead. The rift was a ticking bomb, and if they moved too soon, the Dark Fiends inside would pour out and overrun them before they even had a chance to confront Soketh.

"We can’t enter the Abyss early," Arlan declared, his voice cutting through the tense silence. “If we do before the rift collapses, we’ll face a hundred thousand Dark Fiends head-on. They’ll swarm us long before we ever reach Soketh.”

JD stood, still tense but listening intently. Niren rested his hand on his sword hilt, his stoic demeanor cracking slightly as the weight of their task pressed down.

Arlan continued, his voice growing more certain with each word. “The only way we have a chance is if we let the dark fiends out and have them fight the combined forces of the Royal Army, Duke Frank’s Bannermen, my Banner of the Claw, and any adventurers we can rally. Then a strike team led by me will bypass and fight Soketh head on.”

Yozac, still catching his breath, nodded fervently. “I can get word out to the adventurers in the area. There are many in Auron—mercenaries, sellswords, and mages who would fight for the right price.”

Arlan replied. “Gather what you can, I’ll send a thousand gold from my own treasury. The Eastvale Trade Company will supply another thousand gold.” Then the Immortal General turned his gaze to Jovann.

But before Arlan could say anything, Jovann nodded. “I’ll send word to the Banner of the Claw at once. And have the gold delivered immediately” He stepped back, already directing an Umbra who was nearby.

Arlan’s thoughts whirled, the plan forming rapidly. “Soketh will be there, and so will the Disk of Absolution. He’s tied to it somehow—I can feel it. If we can kill him and secure the Disk, we’ll be able to return back outside and help destroy the Dark Fiend army.”

Marie stood, her fiery eyes blazing with determination. “Then it’s us against Soketh. We’ll need to be ready for anything. This is now bigger than just a dungeon dive, we’re looking at a full scale battle.”

Arlan nodded grimly. “Yes, and we need to be prepared.”

Yozac, his brow furrowed, suddenly spoke up. “There’s one more thing... I heard of a trio of adventurers who are at least fifth-tier cores themselves. They’re not affiliated with any guild, but their reputation is fierce. They might be willing to help.”

Arlan’s eyes lit up. “We’ll need every powerful individual we can get. Find them, Yozac and have them meet me.”

Yozac nodded firmly and left the room with purpose.

Arlan turned back to the group. “There’s one more person I want to track down.” He looked at Jovann, his eyes narrowing. “Have you ever heard of someone named Akasha Renferal?”

Jovann raised an eyebrow. “Akasha Renferal? I’ve heard rumors—a vampire with terrifying power that’s undetectable by magic. She’s like a ghost. I may have a lead.”

“Thin is better than nothing,” Arlan said, the name lingering like a shadow in his mind. “If you find anything, let me know immediately. We might need someone like her.”

Jovann inclined his head. “I’ll see what I can uncover.”

Arlan took a deep breath, the weight of the upcoming battle heavy on his shoulders. He looked around the room at his closest companions—JD, Niren, Chrysta, Marie, Yuna, Fiala, and the others—all of them hardened warriors who had stood by his side through every battle, every nightmare. He could see the grim resolve in their eyes. They knew what was at stake.

“We’ve fought impossible odds before,” Arlan began, his voice rising with conviction. “But this will be different. This will be the hardest fight of our lives. The Dark Fiends are beyond anything we’ve ever faced, and Soketh is no ordinary foe. But I trust each of you. I trust our army. And together, we will face whatever comes out of that rift.”

The room was silent, the weight of his words sinking in.

“We have two weeks,” Arlan said, his eyes blazing with determination. “Two weeks to prepare. We’ll train amongst ourselves. We’ll summon an army. And we’ll be waiting for when the Iron Grotto’s rift collapses. And when it does, we’ll be ready to meet this enemy head on.”

He met each of their gazes, one by one. “Everyone knows what they need to do. Let’s get to it.”

As Arlan finished, the air in the room crackled with tension and purpose. His companions nodded, already turning to leave and set their plans in motion. They had a mere thirteen days to prepare for the fight of their lives—and they would use every second of it.