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The Battlefield Aftermath – A Hollow Triumph
The land reeked of blood and fire.
The ruins of the fallen kingdom stood in silence, the once-mighty walls reduced to rubble and corpses. The moon hung above like an unblinking eye, casting its pale glow over the battlefield.
Among the destruction, only the Valkary stood.
Fenrick exhaled, cracking his neck as he stepped over the bodies of fallen Erebos. His hands dripped with blackened blood, the scent of iron thick in the air.
Dante flicked his daggers clean, his black lightning fizzling out as he surveyed the carnage.
Arthur ran a hand through his blood-streaked hair, his golden eyes cold as he sheathed his sword.
And at the center of it all—stood Modred.
His black cape fluttered in the wind, his sword dripping with the remnants of the Elder Erebos. The monstrous corpse lay behind him, its massive form split in half, its divine light extinguished forever.
Lucan whistled softly. "Well, that was dramatic."
Xeraniel, still recovering from his injuries, let out a low chuckle. "Dramatic? That was an execution."
Modred remained silent.
Because despite the victory…
Something felt off.
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The King's Secret – A Dark Revelation
Back in their war camp, the Valkary gathered within a dimly lit command tent. A massive table stood in the center, maps scattered across its surface, detailing their next objectives.
Arthur tapped a dagger against the wood, his expression unreadable.
"The enemy was too prepared."
Dante raised a brow. "And? They had a divine beast. That's as prepared as it gets."
Arthur shook his head. "No, I mean their resistance. They weren't fighting to win."
Lucan leaned forward, his golden eyes gleaming. "They were buying time."
A chill settled over the room.
Modred finally spoke.
"Time for what?"
Arthur hesitated. Then, he pulled a sealed parchment from his coat and tossed it onto the table.
"This came directly from the capital."
Modred opened it, scanning the text.
Then—his grip tightened.
Fenrick noticed. "What is it?"
Modred's crimson eyes darkened.
"The King has ordered another march. But this time… we are not to conquer."
The room fell silent.
Lucan smirked. "Then what's the objective?"
Modred exhaled. "Extermination."
The air grew heavy.
Arthur folded his arms. "Every man, woman, and child. Burned. Slaughtered. No survivors."
Xeraniel let out a low whistle. "Even for him… this is excessive."
Dante scoffed, leaning back. "Excessive? This is beyond war. This is annihilation."
Fenrick crossed his arms, his golden eyes narrowing. "And what? We're just supposed to obey?"
Modred remained silent.
Because deep down—he knew.
This war was no longer about conquest.
It was about something far worse.
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Seraphina's Message – A Plea from the Palace
As the Valkary sat in contemplation, a messenger arrived.
A lone rider, clad in royal colors, breathless and trembling.
He handed Modred a small sealed letter.
He recognized the handwriting instantly.
Seraphina.
He broke the seal, his eyes scanning the words quickly.
Modred,
The King is planning something beyond war. The royal court whispers of gods, of sacrifice. The Pantheon has not stayed silent. You must return to the capital. Something is wrong.
- Seraphina
Lucan raised a brow. "That from the wife?"
Modred folded the letter, slipping it into his coat.
"We move. Now."
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