The Valdar River roared like a beast unchained, its black waters slamming against the River Citadel's foundations, spraying mist that clung to the air like a living thing. The fortress squatted on the northern cliffs, its walls of pitted granite scarred by centuries, towers jutting into a dawn sky choked with purple clouds. The citadel's bridge, a slab of ancient stone, spanned the river's fury, its arches trembling as if sensing the shrieks tearing through the mist—demons, their cries sharp as shattered steel. Soldiers scrambled across the ramparts, pikes clattering, their shouts swallowed by the river's thunder. Beyond the bridge, Gulmund's fate hung, its water and trade tethered to the citadel's dam.
"Archers, aim for the eyes!" A voice rang out, crisp and commanding. A woman surged along the wall, her spear flashing as she gestured to the riverbank, her battered armor creaking, her braid whipping like a banner. Myra's stance was iron, her shoulders braced against the wind.
"Eyes? Those beasts got more eyes than my last card game!" A lighter voice cut in, edged with a laugh. A wiry figure leaned over a catapult, tossing a coin with a flick, his leather vest torn at the seams. Elian's slouch hid a coiled readiness, his gaze flicking to the mist.
"Then we blind 'em all," another voice answered, low and resolute. A man stood at the bridge's edge, his hand tracing patterns in the air, fingers weaving invisible threads. Toji's coat, soaked and heavy, billowed as he encoded nano-instructions into the mist's magic particles, his posture steady, eyes locked on the river.
The mist split, and demons swarmed—twisted hulks of metal and sinew, their claws sparking on stone, jaws bristling with fangs. No runes glowed; their raw hunger pulsed, a wave of corruption that shook the walls. Arrows rained, glancing off hides. Mages' bolts fizzed, barely denting the onslaught.
"Wards, you lazy sods!" A shout rose from a mage-circle, urgent and sharp. A figure in a ragged cloak knelt, hands sketching light into the air, his frame hunched under the strain. Frankie's sleeves flapped, dusted with soot, his voice cracking as he wove defensive threads. "These aren't strays—they're a bloody swarm!"
Toji's fingers danced, nano-instructions threading magic particles into a blade of shimmering energy. He leaped into the chaos, dodging a demon's claw, his blade slashing its leg. Ichor sprayed, and he encoded a new command—particles tightening into a net that yanked the beast into the river's maw. It sank, thrashing, as Toji grinned, the thrill of battle sparking.
Elian vaulted a barricade, hurling a spiked chain that snagged a demon's jaw. "That's one for me!" he crowed, his vest flapping as he spun, his stance loose but precise. "Keep up, Lightbringer, or I'll steal your shine!" His chain whipped again, tangling another beast's claws.
Myra drove her spear into a demon's throat, ichor splattering her armor. "They're hitting the dam!" she yelled, her posture fierce as she pivoted. "If it breaks, Gulmund's fields flood!"
A heavy presence settled, like air before a storm. "The Horned One probes your strength," an old voice croaked, brittle but potent. A stooped figure emerged from the mist, his gold robes sagging, a crystal-tipped staff trembling in knotted hands. Serene's shoulders hunched, his golden eyes clouded with doubt as he raised his staff. "This swarm is a warning, not the war."
Toji ducked a demon's swipe, encoding particles into a shield that sparked under the blow. "Warning of what?" he snapped, his voice cutting through the roars, his stance braced as he wove another blade. "Speak, old man, or fight!"
Serene's staff blazed, light torching a demon, but his frame shook, his robes damp with mist. "Corruption festers in the governors' hearts. The Horned One's reach grows. Sarfin commands you hold, but shadows move beyond his sight."
Frankie's wards flared, shielding the dam, his cloak snagging as he stood. "Shadows like spies?" he shot back, his posture stiff with defiance. "Someone's watching him, aren't they? Spill it!"
Serene's eyes flickered, his staff's light wavering. "I serve White Star's people, not just the throne. But trust frays, lad. Hold the dam, and we'll see what's left."
Elian laughed, dodging a demon's lunge, his vest slick with grime. "Trust? You sound like a gambler with no cards!" His chain lashed, tripping a beast, his grin unbroken despite a gash on his cheek.
Toji's hatred for greed surged—governors like Kaelis, bartering lives for power, unleashing these horrors. Why the dam? Why Gulmund? His confusion burned, but his God's light, warm in the relic, anchored him. He sprinted to the dam's gate, where three demons clawed at the stone, cracks spiderwebbing. Nano-particles swirled, Toji encoding a lattice of spikes that pierced a demon's hide, toppling it into the Valdar's foam.
Myra rallied her troops, her spear a streak of silver. "Push them back!" she roared, her armor gleaming, her stance unyielding. Soldiers surged, pikes driving demons toward the river.
Serene struck, his staff's light searing a demon, but his movements slowed, his robes heavy. "The Ten waver," he whispered, barely audible. "Some heed voices not our own. I stand here, for now."
Toji's jaw clenched. Serene's doubt hinted at a rift—divine loyalty cracking under unseen pressures. He encoded a new instruction, particles forming a whip that lashed a demon's eyes, blinding it. "Stand or fall, old man," he growled, leaping to the dam's crest. "I'm holding this line."
The final demon, a titan of jagged steel, charged, its claws raking the dam's gate. Stone buckled, water spraying through cracks. Toji encoded a burst of particles, weaving a cage that pinned the beast. He vaulted, blade slicing its core, ichor flooding the stone. The demon sank, the river swallowing its ruin.
The citadel held, the dam scarred but standing. Soldiers cheered, their voices a raw pulse, chanting a name Toji waved off. He landed, blade fading, his coat dripping, his stance weary but firm. The river's mist curled, hiding the carnage, but the weight of their hope pressed hard.
Frankie stumbled over, his cloak shredded, his frame sagging but eyes sharp. "That swarm was no accident," he said, wiping sweat. "It's the Project—coordinated, like a mind's behind it. Kaelis, or someone higher."
Elian limped up, twirling his chain, his vest in tatters. "Higher like a king?" he quipped, wincing at his gash. "Or that shaky old god? Serene's hiding a royal flush, mark me."
Toji glanced at Serene, who stood by the dam, his staff dim, his robes clinging to a frail form, his eyes on the horizon. The old man's words—divided Ten, unseen voices—were a puzzle, the Project's shadow lengthening. Toji's hatred for those who'd drown cities for gain burned, but the mastermind eluded him. His God's light pulsed, urging him to Gulmund, where answers waited.
Myra approached, her spear grounded, her armor dulled but posture proud. "Gulmund's safe, thanks to you," she said, voice firm. "But spies are closing in. Someone's eyes are on us."
Toji nodded, a prickle of scrutiny—not magic, but instinct—warning of unseen watchers. "Gulmund's where I cut through," he said, his voice a spark. "Spies or not, I'm coming for the truth."
The battalion marched, the river's thunder fading. Serene lingered, his stooped silhouette a question mark, his warnings a storm brewing. Gulmund beckoned, a city of secrets, and Toji strode toward it, his faith a blade to carve out lies, his path a fire no shadow could quench.