The Valley of Warriors shook under the weight of three armies. The roar of the Bloodreavers was the first sound to split the world. Primus launched himself at Herald, and their clash triggered the full storm.
Below them, the Bloodreaver army surged forward like a living red tide. Their formations were wide and aggressive, warriors clad in crimson armor, weapons coated in blood-fire, that signature ability of their lineage.
Blood-fire didn’t behave like a normal flame. It clung. It crawled. It devoured whatever it touched and grew hotter the longer it burned. Entire squads of Bloodreaver masters rushed ahead, their swords and spears glowing molten red, each strike leaving streaks like burning comets.
Their voices shook the air.
At the front of this charge was Dorian, his massive sword burning so brightly it painted the air around him crimson. He hacked down a blue-flame barrier, causing the shield to rupture and scream as blood-fire devoured it from the edges inward. He plowed through three Del Rey masters in one swing, scattering bodies like broken toys.
Beside him, other Bloodreaver grandmasters carved paths of destruction, feeding their aura with rage and momentum. Unlike other families, Bloodreavers fought best in the frenzy. The more damage they received, the more their Essence burned, and the harder they struck back.
They were chaos incarnate.
The battlefield bent beneath their wrath.
But the Ronics were altogether different.
When their army charged from the west, it wasn’t loud or frenzied. It moved like a marching storm.
Their violet armor glowed faintly as runes lit up across their limbs. Unlike the raw aggression of the Bloodreavers, the Ronic flame, Violet Flame had a corrupting effect.
Where it touched blue flame, the blue flame dimmed. Where it touched blood-fire, it disrupted the burning pattern.
Ronic masters fought with sharp precision. Spears of violet energy punctured shields with surgical accuracy. Swords coated in corruptive runes left lingering afterimages.
Platius led them personally, hovering above his army, eyes full of cold fury, spear dripping with violet flame. He wasn’t as explosive as Dorian, but his control was terrifying. Every strike he made split the battlefield into clean lines of death.
Dozens of Del Rey masters tried to encircle him.
A simple sweep of his spear sent a rippling shockwave of violet corruption that reduced half their armor into dust. A twist of his wrist followed, and the purple flame imploded into itself crushing bones and Essence both.
Orobas... was different from both. He floated above the entire Bloodreaver army like a dark sun, ritual marks glowing beneath his skin.
And then, he raised a single hand.
Crimson fire burst outward.
This was the Ancestor Flame, the purest form of Bloodreaver power, refined through centuries of slaughter and Essence accumulation. It rolled across the battlefield like a storm, igniting the sky.
Entire battalions of Del Rey foot soldiers collapsed under the pressure alone, knees buckling, weapons shaking.
Grandmasters had to reinforce their bodies just to withstand the aura.
Orobas did nothing but float, yet his presence alone crushed the rhythm of the Del Rey defense. His aura pressed from above while the Bloodreavers attacked from the front and the Ronics from the side.
The Del Reys were caught on all fronts.
But they didn’t crumble.
Instead, they formed tight defensive formations, layers of blue-flame barriers interlocked like a crystalline wall. The Del Rey family’s blue flame was not for destruction. It was for the soul.
Blue flame hit the spirit directly.
A single touch could numb the mind, disrupt internal Essence flow, or weaken one’s will. It was the perfect defensive flame. And stalling was exactly their goal.
They knew reinforcements from Dragos were coming.
Their generals shouted orders sharply:
"Hold the line!"
"Defense formation: Blue Shell!"
"Rotate barriers! Do not let the Bloodreavers break through!"
A massive blue dome began to form behind them. Dozens of grandmasters poured their power into it simultaneously.
From above, it looked like a giant ocean bubble rising from the earth. Every time Dorian’s men smashed into it, their blood-fire scarred the outer layers but the barrier healed instantly as soul-flame rushed to repair the damage.
Every time violet corruption ate into it, another wave of soul-flame neutralized it. It was a fortress made of will.
Herald, meanwhile, fought Primus in the sky.
Their fists collided again and again, blue flame and red flame clashing like storms of opposite seasons.
Primus shouted, "Your daughter sold my world to Dragos!"
Herald roared back, "You know nothing of my daughter!"
They crashed into each other, sending shockwaves across the entire battlefield. Herald unleashed a wave of soul-flame that spiraled like a blue hurricane. Primus countered with a column of blood-fire that split the air.
The sky tore open between them.
Below them, soldiers on all sides struggled not to be knocked off their feet.
The battle escalated so violently that fissures began to split across the Valley, jagged tears in the ground dozens of meters deep. Several ancient bones embedded in the valley floor were unearthed, massive skeletal remains of abominations from long-forgotten wars.
The cracked terrain made the marches chaotic and uneven.
Bloodreaver master ranked soldiers sprinted across the crumbling ground with wild abandon, leaping over fissures and smashing into Del Rey shields with reckless bravery.
Ronic soldiers marched steadily, stepping precisely into gaps, maintaining tight formations even as the land shifted beneath them.
The Del Reys held their fortress of blue flame, shrinking the defensive perimeter little by little as they pulled their troops closer, tighter, more compact.
They were preparing for a siege.
They had to hold out until reinforcements came.
That was their entire strategy.
But dawn had already arrived. And their reinforcements would not be coming. Because Knight had already begun his work.
Suddenly, the mental link stirred.
It was Lyrate first, her voice sharp and hungry. ’When do we start? Just give the word, Billion. I want to cut through those blue-flame cockroaches.’
Ragnar chimed in immediately. ’Yes! Release me! I haven’t smashed anything since long time. My fists are getting lonely.’
Silver’s voice followed, excited and jittery. ’Let’s gooo! I want to test how fast their heads fly if I kick them!’
Aurora, however, was calm water cutting through their noise. Her mental voice was cool and even. ’Should we intervene now, Billion? The battlefield is becoming unstable. Your decision will shift the tide.’
I exhaled slowly. The timing had to be perfect.
The war of Armus had only just begun...And the moment I let them loose, the valley would finally understand what a true storm looked like.