The horns of Elren echoed across the plains like a divine call to war.
Fifty thousand soldiers stood assembled beneath the dawn, a tide of steel and banners stretching beyond the horizon. Enoch rode at the head of the host, armor gleaming like molten gold, while Alfonso sat tall beside him, his black armor reflecting the pale morning light.
Behind them came the divisions, ten thousand paladins in radiant silver, their halberds crowned with divine sigils; ten thousand infantry with tower shields; archers and crossbowmen bearing the mark of the Tempest; the cavalry with lances raised; and the skirmishers, light and fast.
The banners of Elren fluttered,twin emblems of a golden cross and a silver tree without leaves. The march began.
For two days, they crossed green hills and dying forests, the path lit by the sun's harsh gaze and shadowed by the looming storm clouds that seemed to follow at a distance. The soldiers marched with the faith of zealots and the rhythm of war drums echoing across the plains.
But on the second night, the calm broke.
A sudden shout rang through the camp, "Fire! The tents!"
Flames spread like wild beasts through the lower rows of the encampment, the dry grass and canvas catching with terrifying speed. Panic rippled through the soldiers as men ran for buckets and shovels, beating at the fire with cloaks.
"Form a line!" Enoch roared, his voice cutting through the chaos. "Keep the powder stores away!"
Despite their efforts, the inferno only grew, the wind feeding it greedily. The night became a battlefield of its own, smoke choking, flames clawing at the sky.
Then, suddenly, the wind changed.
A deep rumble rolled across the plains, distant at first, then close, like the breath of something colossal. Thunder cracked overhead. The sky, moments ago a field of stars, became an ocean of black clouds.
Rain fell, not a drizzle, but a torrent. Sheets of water poured down with such force that the fire hissed and screamed before dying altogether. In minutes, the flames were gone, and the night was filled only with steam and the distant echo of thunder.
The soldiers fell to their knees, soaked and trembling, staring at the heavens in awe.
"Praise the Lady of Tempests!" one shouted, voice hoarse with relief.
"Our goddess watches over us!" another cried, and a roar of devotion followed, a chorus of thousands shouting Ramona's name into the storm.
When dawn broke again, the army marched once more, their faith rekindled stronger than ever.
By the third day, they reached it, the beastmen city of Gar'thar.
Its walls were black stone, scarred by age, and massive statues of half-beast kings loomed over the gates. The air smelled of iron and ash.
The army of Elren spread across the plain before it, banners fluttering like waves in a red sea. Enoch and Alfonso took position atop a small ridge, their command tents raised behind them.
"Hold position," Enoch ordered. "Let's see if they come to their senses."
Hours passed. No messenger came. No white flag rose. The only answer was the low hum of war horns echoing from behind the walls.
Enoch's eyes hardened. "Then so be it."
He raised his hand, and ten catapults creaked to life.
"Commence bombardment!"
The first volley soared, flaming stones trailing smoke like comets, and slammed into the walls of Gar'thar. The ground shook, stone splintered, and screams echoed from within.
The beastmen retaliated instantly, thousands of arrows darkening the sky, a black rain falling toward Elren's lines.
"Shields up!"
The front ranks of paladins raised their glowing barriers. Divine essence flared gold and white, forming a shining wall that caught the storm of arrows. Metal tips shattered against it, raining harmlessly to the ground.
The army cheered, and the catapults thundered again.
The siege raged on, walls crumbling, smoke thick in the air, drums of war shaking the ground. When the ladders went up, the fighting grew brutal. Steel clashed against claw and fang, the cries of men and beasts blending into a single, endless roar.
Then came the shadow.
Without warning, the light dimmed. A deep rumble rolled through the air, heavier, deeper than thunder.
"Boulders!" someone screamed.
From the heavens, stones the size of houses plummeted toward the wall. They smashed into the battlements, crushing soldiers and beastmen alike. The ground split, dust and blood rising together.
And then, silence.
The sky rippled.
From above, four figures descended, their bodies wreathed in divine light, the gods of the beastmen. Their forms blazed with primal energy: one with the mane of a lion, one with scales like gold, one bearing tusks of ivory, and one with nine fox tails trailing fire.
Gasps rippled through the army.
"Gods… actual gods…" whispered a soldier, his voice trembling.
Then, the sky exploded.
Clouds coiled inwards, and from their heart came lightning, not in single bolts but in vast branches, spreading like veins across the heavens. Thunder rolled like the end of time itself. The four gods turned their gaze upward, and without hesitation, they flew into the storm.
What followed was chaos made divine.
Flashes of red, gold, and violet tore through the clouds. Each boom shook the ground so violently that men stumbled to their knees. The air vibrated, a deafening hum filling every ear. The sky itself began to crack, faint fractures spreading like broken glass across the firmament.
"Sweet saints above," a young soldier breathed. "They're fighting up there…"
Another clutched his chest, eyes wide. "If that's what gods do to the sky, what are we supposed to—"
He never finished.
A final explosion erupted above them, brighter than the sun, louder than anything mortal could bear. The shockwave flattened tents, sent banners whipping madly. When it cleared, four shapes plummeted from the heavens, crashing into the city below with the force of meteors.
The ground quaked.
Then, from the riven clouds, two new figures emerged.
The first wore bronze Spartan armor, a crimson cloak flowing behind him like living flame. He held a golden spear that hummed with raw power. His presence alone bent the air, divine radiance spilling from his triangular halo like a blazing sun.
The second descended beside him, clad in silver armor, her purple cloak crackling with lightning. Twin blades rested in her hands, their edges pulsing with violet light,along with her halo.
Gasps turned to cries.
"The Father!" a voice shouted from the Elren ranks.
"The Mother of Storms!" another bellowed.
Their names spread like wildfire, Adam! Ramona!
The god Adam raised his hand, and a great, pointed cross of light appeared behind him, radiating golden energy that stretched for miles.
Four beastmen on the shattered walls screamed as their eyes flared crimson, no doubt signs of a possession . But before they could move, golden chains erupted from the air, wrapping around them, binding their bodies completely. Only their heads remained free, their roars muffled by divine light.
The lion god tried to resist, until Ramona raised her hand. Lightning surged from her twin blades, forming chains of crackling silver that bound him tighter, pinning him beneath both the chains of gold and silver.
Adam's voice thundered across the battlefield, shaking heaven and earth alike:
"Your gods have been vanquished!"
The cry that followed from thousands of throats shook the very soul of the world.
"Praise and glory be to the Father and Mother!"
The storm answered in kind, thunder rolling like applause from the heavens.