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Content Warning: Heavy Violence/Gore

“WELCOME HEROES!” A booming, obtrusive voice erupted across the hall, echoing through the rafters like an unwelcome gust of wind. Michael jumped in place, freezing as it rattled through his ears with the force of a cannon. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see others doing the same, their attention collectively locking in to the source of their fright.

A giant of a man, clad in royal purple and red, sat before them. Pillars adorned his presence like priests worshipping their god, pointing to the marvelous throne that sat before them. His throne was pristine, made of a rock even purer than waxed marble, its cushions stretching far above what any man could hope to reach. The man himself wore a luxurious robe of scarlet red, and upon his head sat a crown of pure gold, sitting sharply along the top of the man’s auburn hair. Even his eyes shined with an almost holy luster.

The man sat upright, his face sprouting a brilliant smile as he threw his hands apart. “Heroes! We have summoned you from your realm to save our kingdom from sure destruction. You few heroes, who’ve answered our call and emerg-“

“Wait” He paused, his grand figure suddenly falling away. “Why are there…” he paused for a moment.

“Thirty-one, Sir.” A man standing behind the throne whispered into his ear, his heavily decorated armor loudly signaling his action.

“Thirty-one of you?” The King finished, stroking his stubble of a beard. He quickly stood up and glanced around the room, turning to a man dressed in a purple silk robe. “Alrune, what happened? I was told the ritual would be flawless!” He raised his voice slightly, clearly distressed at the sight of the thirty-one people that now stood before him.

The man, who Michael now knew as Alrune, stepped forward with a curt bow, adjusting his collar before answering; “I believe I know what happened, my lord. While the summoning ceremony is highly mysterious and unknown to us, we’ve had evidence that the summoning takes place in an area around the summonee, leading to one or two cases throughout known history where more than one hero is summoned. I’m afraid I have no explanation as to why there are thirty one of them.” He spoke with a mixture of shame and excitement, almost bouncing as he addressed the King.

“How… peculiar.” The King said half-heartedly. His previous position of exaggerated bravado and confidence was now gone, replaced with a calculating and more mysterious aura. He took a deep breath, cupping his hands passively. “Where are my manners? Allow me to introduce myself. I am Salus Artorius, lord of the Kingdom of Aldemar, first of my name. I ask of thee, heroes from another realm, to aid us in our time of desperation.” He bowed his head as he spoke, as if apologizing to everyone in the room, an apology that also demanded cooperation and compliance. “Our Kingdom is surrounded on all sides, our enemies preparing for war, all while a new Demon King has united the demons in the Ashlands under a single banner. War is inevitable, destined to come for our shores in a time where we can scarcely afford to defend it. That is why we have undertaken the summoning ritual to call upon heroes such as yourselves, to aid our state and lead us to victory!” His voice grew louder with every word, as if reciting a speech to rouse loyal followers.

The students stood agape, bewildered and stunned at the King’s words. The room was quiet as a mouse, filling the room with an unsettling, lingering tension. It remained so for several seconds, until a pair of quiet yet profound footsteps stepped forward with a noticeable Clack! Michael’s eyes swept to the front of the room as none other than Mrs. Hill stood before the throne, her hands angrily placed on her hips.

“Hold on, let me get this straight. So what you’re telling me is that you’ve basically kidnapped us from our homes, our lives, our futures, in order to help your dying country from an overwhelming military threat?!” Her voice rang out, echoing through the hall, cracking as she watched the King nod his head.

“Correct my dear. I would perhaps change some choice words, kidnapping is harsh, but the essence of what you’re saying is correct.” He bobbed his head up and down, as if giving her a small nod of approval as he spoke, which was not met in kind.

Mrs. Hill clenched her fists, saying through gritted teeth; “These are students. Not fighters, not warlords, not soldiers, but students. They’re no better off than children! Now you’re going to send us off to war for a country we don’t know and expect us not to be upset? You’re sending children to die! Trying to force them to kill! Send us back!” She practically growled the words at the King, stepping closer to the throne as she shouted demands. The small crowd of people that stood behind the King flew into a flurry of whispers, and the man that corrected the King before stepped forward, his hand on the hilt of what Michael could only assume was a sword.

The King, seeing the explosion of movement from the corner of his eye, held his hand in front of the heavily armored man, stopping him from stepping forwards. He turned, meeting the eyes of the man, before shaking his head. The man stepped back, his head bowed low, his hand still not leaving his scabbard. The King let out a big sigh before standing up from the throne, towering high above the smaller woman who stood below him, still standing defiantly in the wake of such a massive force.

“I am afraid that I cannot send you back, fair lady. The summoning ritual was created by an ancient civilization, and the spell is so complex that we cannot understand it, much less reverse it. The truth is, you cannot go back. In return for our blunder, we will assist you in accessing your magical cores, we will teach you magic, we will teach you to fight, we will teach you everything you wish to learn. If you do not wish to fight or find that you do not have the capacity to fight, you will assist us elsewhere. This is the price of giving you as many resources as possible.” He narrowed his eyes at Mrs. Hill, before sweeping his gaze along the rest of the students. “You are children, unused to combat, monsters, magic, and the many unfamiliar things that govern this world. We will educate you to be at the highest point of society, all we ask is that you help us in return. If you choose not to accept, you will be free to fend for yourself as a citizen, but you will receive no aid from us.” His tone was angry but firm and understanding. “You have but three days to make your choice. If you have any questions, you may ask my advisors” he opened his palm, motioning to the crowd behind him.

Mrs. Hill, still angry, walked back to the crowd of students, biting her lip. Quietly, she whispered just loud enough for the students to hear; “I know you’re probably just as shocked as I am, and I won’t expect you to understand what’s going on right now.” Many heads nodded in response, and she swept her hand through her hair. “They’re giving us three days. I’m not going to advise you on any of your choices, and I’ll back up any choice you make. I don’t want you guys to be forced into war. You don’t have to learn to kill, or whatever it is they want us to do.” She shook her head in disappointment.

“What about the whole magic thing?” asked Ken, his tall figure poking over the back of the crowd. “That seems very interesting, and I’m sure there’s a lot we can do with it, if it’s something straight out of fantasy, of course.” He received several stares, both inquisitive and judging. “What?” he said, shrugging. “I think it sounds kind of cool!”

“I don’t want to hurt anyone…” said a meek voice on Michael’s right. The voice came from a small, quiet boy named Zach, who shied away from the eyes that rose to meet him. Michael hadn’t interacted with him much, but he was known to be rather shy, and was always kind to his friends. Michael patted his shoulder, giving him a nod as their eyes met, and Zach continued, brushing his stark black hair from his face. “Why do we have to fight? Or kill people, or monsters, whatever that even means,” he said, extracting another round of enthusiastic nods from the group.

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“I think tha-“ Michael started, before the same booming voice interrupted his train of thought once again.

“Heroes! I’m sorry to interrupt your discussion, but I have decided to grant you a gift, an act of good faith for the wrongs we have done against you.” King Artorius stood once more at the base of his throne, bowing his head. “I have agreed to grant you access to your cores, unlocking your potential for magic. This will allow for you to properly grasp our offer, after which, we will leave you be. The ceremony will occur tomorrow at noon, and we will be recording the results so we can measure the resources we need to give you. If you choose to stay, each of you will be given a tutor, the best of the best!” His eyes were fixated on the floor, and his usual extravagant smile was instead morphed into a stark frown. Something was clearly troubling him.

“For now, you will be escorted to your rooms. We have given you access to the Western Bell Tower, which overlooks the city of Aldenne, capital city of our Kingdom. The guards and stewards that accompany you will assist you in finding your way. You have complete access to the public sections of our library, and any questions you may ask will be answered. There are a few issues we must discuss later, however that is not something you need to worry about for now.” He motioned for his advisors, who began giving instructions on how to reach the tower, before leaving through the massive door that lay behind him.

Michael watches as the man left, brows burrowed as he struggled to comprehend what was happening. Through all the chaos and flurry of movement, information, and tension, he could only feel completely and utterly alone.

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Miles away, in an empty plain darkened with ash and blood, a bitter conflict brewed. Bodies littered the ground, covering what remains of life in a slick layer of blood. Screams accompanied the clashing of metal, and the severing of flesh.

A horde of humanoid creatures swarmed from the hills, their screeches echoing with glee. Distorted smiles littered their faces as they rushed ahead, their skin the color of blood. Their cackles rang into the ears of armored soldiers, numbering in the thousands as they shuddered, preparing to hold their last stand. Despite their fear, they stood valiantly, determined to be the stone wall that finally put an end to the horrors that befell their empire.

Tears flowed as they remembered the atrocities committed, the hundreds of thousands slaughtered. They screamed in silence as they saw their loved ones slain, impaled, and paraded on pikes, their bodies used as nothing but entertainment to the creatures that invaded their home. Their Emperor was already dead, his throat cut in his sleep, leaving nothing left for the soldiers to rely on but their hope and thirst for revenge. Each one had faced eternal hardship. Every one of them had lost everything, until nothing but their spirit remained.

They would fall this day.

With a rallying cry, they charged ahead, meeting the creatures with steel, their claws desperately flailing in an attempt to reach their armor. Blood dyed the walls red, one by one, as they carved their way through the unending swarm of barbarous creatures. The men’s war cries only drove them further, pushed them beyond the front line, turned them into machines of death. They knew nothing but the annihilation of their enemies, hell-bent on killing them down to the last soul.

As they continued to wade down the flood of corpses, killing everything in their wake, a stark shriek rang out as one of the monster’s claws dug into a gap in their armor, then ripping out their neck. He crumpled to the ground, barely registering the pain as several creatures jumped on his body, their teeth slicing through his flesh as they ate him alive, ripping him apart as he screamed. Seconds later, there was nothing left of him save for a pile of bones.

The man’s fate was not unique, as several more soldiers met the same grisly end. Still, the men continued on, their grieving hearts placated with fury. The battle continued for nearly an hour. For each monster slain, another ten took their place. The horde unending, the soldiers were doomed to fall. One by one, their numbers dwindled, their bodies mutilated, heads decapitated, bones used as clubs, until there was only a single man left.

His head adorned with brilliant gold hair, let loose without his helmet, which was lost days ago. He stood headfast as the army continued onwards, his sword adorned with a vibrant golden glow. Each swing of his sword killed dozens, if not a hundred demons as an arc of light tore through their ranks. Even with this, the man barely managed to remain unharmed, the enemies’ claws inching closer and closer between waves. This cycle of death carried on for another half-hour before the horde suddenly pulled back, their twisted smiles growing only deeper.

Their formation parted, as if the sea itself opened wide. The man fell to his knee, using his sword to balance himself as he recovered, his dwindling core desperately trying to recover a semblance of mana. The demons did nothing as the watched him sit, before suddenly a glorifying cheer echoed through the field, as a small shadow overtook the glow of the sun.

His eyes swept upwards, only to meet the eyes of a small creature with skin the color of ash, a mixture of molten rock and blood-red crystal melding together to create a crown, resting gently on the creature’s head. Their face wore a crooked smile, not unlike that of the legions the man had just fought, its serrated teeth sure to give children nightmares. Despite their skinny stature smaller height, the creature felt completely out of the man’s reach. He had lost all hope.

Despite knowing what was to come, the man pushed his way to his feet, reclaiming his sword as he took a deep breath, and bellowed, screaming to the skies; “I AM ALBERT THE GOLDEN, HAND OF THE EMPEROR, BRINGER OF HOPE AND APOSTLE OF LIGHT” His voice was steady, and he pointed his sword at the figure, breaking out into a resigned smile.

“Oh good. I was hoping for something fun today.” A sly but confident voice replied, and Albert’s eyes widened in surprise. He had not expected the creature to know how to speak. He took a brief step back, before righting himself, coughing into his fist.

“Why? If you could speak, why would you do this? You slaughter our people without a care, you burn our cities, you leave nothing in your wake. Why?!” He demanded, clenching his fist, reminding himself of everything he’d lost.

The Demon King, unperturbed by the man’s demands, merely waved its hands in annoyance. “You humans took everything from my people. Our people once ruled these lands, and as the rightful owner, I will inflict as much pain as the humans gave us. Our slaughter is nothing compared to what your kind as done to us. I will take everything, slaughter all of your kind, and feast on your souls for eternity!” the being laughed as its hand drew a small triangle in the air, one Albert recognized as the symbol of demonic magic. “You are nothing but a stepping stone to victory. Face me, Albert the Golden, and watch from the heavens as your realm burns.”

Albert screamed in rage as he swung his sword at the creature’s head, an explosion of light arcing like a field of lightning as it ravaged the ground beyond it. Despite the display of force, the Demon King sat unmoved, its palm igniting with a brilliant red as it leapt towards the desperate survivor. “Goodbye, Hero.”

After a few short minutes of explosive light ravaged the horizon, the Demon King stood victorious, the body of the fallen general blackened with ash. At the raising of its hand, the horde continued, ready to burn whatever remnants remained of this pitiful empire. As it watched the lands become enveloped with hellfire, a small group of demons approached him.

“Sire, with this, the last of the Baelic people have fallen. There is nothing stopping us from claiming their lands. What would you have us do next, Oh Great One.” They bowed deeply, almost touching the ground, while some kneeled. The Demon King, satisfied, turned its head back towards the carnage-wrought plains.

“Patrol this Empire’s borders, but go no further. Use the vast lands to expand our infrastructure. Harvest the souls of their people, turn the survivors into cattle. Use their flesh to expand our legions further. Nothing shall stand in the way of our conquest. I will watch this world burn with hell-fire.” It chuckled a deep, unnerving laugh. “We will feast on their souls, grow in strength, and conquer the rest of the continent before they realize we’re a threat.” It spoke with utter glee as it imagined the slaughter.

“Sire, I apologize for the interruption, but our spies have urgent news from one of the neighboring kingdoms.” A small demon wearing long, red robes bowed low, its head nearly touching the ground as it spoke. A small frown appeared on the Demon King’s face, and the demon shuddered in terror. “I am sorry, oh Great One, for ruining your slaughter-lust, but the Kingdom of Aldemar has successfully performed a summoning ritual. The first in a century!” It practically screamed the words, its head digging even further towards the ground.

“A hero? Although the human heroes have always been a deterrent, a single hero cannot stop our conquest.” It said, brushing away the news without a thought.

“A-ah Sire, there’s something you need to know.” The quivering demon continued, stopping the King in its path apologetically. “There’s not just one, Great one, our spies say there are around thirty!” Fear drove the analytical demon, its legs quivering and shaking as it spoke.

The Demon King said nothing, standing still. Slowly, the creature began to turn to its advisors, its previous uncaring attitude now scoured with a scheming roguish disposition. “double the spies in Aldemar. I want to know exactly what they’re doing, war preparations, strategies, and anything else we can get our hands on.” Its crown twisted, as if alive, and its crystal shifted to a vibrant purple. The King’s mind connected with several others, dozens, if not hundreds of miles away. A web of minds interconnected, an infinitely growing army of minds growing ever stronger with each passing day.

Heroes have been summoned in the Kingdom of Aldemar, more than we’ve ever seen. We might have to act early. Prepare for an incursion into enemy territory. Your target will be the fortress that lies on the hill overlooking Aldenne. Kill as many heroes as you can.