The winter of Year 25 was milder than expected, a deceptive calm cloaking the continent as the spring of Year 26 approached. The snow melted from the cliffs of the Akkala Province, revealing the muddy footprints of legions mustering beneath the banners of Hyrule. Amid this awakening, at the heart of the Akkala Citadel, King Atari stood upon an obsidian balcony. Below him, an army of thousands waited in disciplined silence, their eyes reflecting torchlight and devotion.
Clad in armor of polished onyx and crimson, Atari radiated menace as much as command. His helmet, forged in the shape of a screaming bokoblin, sat tucked beneath one arm. In his free hand he held a dark, almost black, blade, with a contorted hilt, and a menacing aura.
He stepped forward, voice unnaturally clear, magnified by arcane resonance.
"My brave soldiers," he began, his voice like thunder echoing over the barracks, "we stand at the cusp of a glorious destiny."
A cheer tried to rise, but Atari raised a gauntleted hand and silence returned like a snapped chain. "Before us lies the western frontier. A land that festers with decay and dishonor. Cold as the Herba wastes, ruled by the degenerate Valords and their simpering queen."
He let the pause stretch, his eyes scanning the crowd, predatory.
"They have dared to challenge our sovereignty. They put their greedy eyes on our coveted trade routes, they harbor traitors and refugees—cowards fleeing the righteous flame of our kingdom. They defy the divine order, the very will of the goddess."
He turned, slamming the scepter into the obsidian beneath his feet, sending a sharp crack through the air.
"But I say to you, we shall not suffer their insolence!"
A roar erupted, but it was not joyous—it was bloodthirsty.
"We are the chosen, the anointed, the rightful creations of the goddess herself. We are not merely warriors—we are her wrath made flesh! Our bloodline is pure. Our cause, sacred. Our right to conquer, unquestionable."
"These western mongrels, these malformed beasts and half-breeds—they mock our civilization with their filth, their twisted cultures, and their refusal to kneel. But they will learn. Oh yes, they will learn what it means to defy Hyrule."
He raised his arm to the sky, pointing westward.
"I have personally overseen your training—no, your transformation. You are no longer mere soldiers of the state. You are avatars of divine vengeance. You are the mailed fist of Hylian supremacy!"
The troops began to pound their fists against their chests in unison, the sound like rolling thunder.
"You are the finest warriors in the land—no, in the world! Your blades are blessed with the fire of the ancients. Your armor, tested in the forges of the sun. Your discipline is unmatched, your loyalty unquestioned. And with you by my side, not even the gods of the western savages shall stand in our way."
He began pacing slowly, serpent-like in his motions.
"Let us speak the truth: the western frontier is a cesspool of degeneracy. The so-called 'Valor States' is nothing but a patchwork of weak-willed tribes held together by lies and witchcraft. They sing of peace while they sharpen blades behind our backs. They claim independence, but what are they, truly? Slaves to emotion. Slaves to chaos. Slaves to weakness."
He turned sharply.
"I have seen their emissaries. Their slouched postures. Their disgusting language. Their monstrous horns. Their soft eyes and perfumed hands. They believe diplomacy is strength, that words can stay swords. But no treaty ever built an empire! No parley ever forged a throne!"
His voice grew cold, calm, and cruel.
"Do not be fooled. These are not men. These are beasts dressed as kings. Their lands are infected with undesirables—Drakonic hybrids, rebellious Valorians, and others too deformed to belong to any race. They will scream when we arrive, but it will be the scream of animals before the slaughter."
"They have no honor. No courage. They fight with the desperation of prey, not the pride of warriors. Brute strength and crude tactics will not save them from annihilation."
Atari turned to face the legions fully, his presence now overwhelming, like a shadow that blotted out the sky.
"We shall march forth as one—united, pure, and righteous. We will sweep across the western wastes like wildfire. We will crush their fragile alliances beneath our boots. We will raze their cities, salt their fields, and carve our creed into their bones!"
He slammed the tip of his blade, echoing like a drum of war.
"I know… some of you harbor doubts. You wonder: what if they resist? What if they fight like demons? What if their Valors—has some power unknown to us?"
He sneered, the corner of his mouth twisting in disdain.
"Let me tell you what power they holds. The Valors hold the power of cowards. Of idealists. Of fools who believe history will favor the meek. The Valors think of themselves beloved by their people. But love cannot stop a blade. And loyalty to weakness is still weakness."
A murmur ran through the ranks like a tremor.
"We shall tear the Valors from their thrones. Not as conquerors—but as executioners. they will be brought before me in chains, and the world will see what becomes of false Leaders."
A wave of silence. A moment of tension. And then—
"We fight not only for glory, but for purity."
"We fight not only for conquest, but for cleansing."
"We fight to reshape the world in the image of the Hylian race. One people. One creed. One dominion."
A cheer rose now—mad and unanimous.
"So let us raise our swords and shields high! Let the sky itself tremble at our advance. Let the rivers run red with the blood of the defiant!"
"We march west at dawn!"
"We conquer not with mercy—but with fire!"
"Victory is not our goal. It is our destiny!"
The army erupted in a violent chant, over and over, the ground shaking with it:
"HYRULE RISES! HYRULE RISES!"
Atari raised both hands, absorbing their worship like a dark sun.
"From the ashes of the west, a new empire will be born. A Hylian Empire."
He turned, cloak billowing, stepping back into the shadows of the tower.
"Let the purge begin."
…
Zora's Domain shimmered beneath the twilight mists, waterfalls tumbling from onyx cliffs into the glowing basin below. Inside the high council chamber—where coral pillars framed the roaring Silver Veil—a meeting of ancient authority had gathered. Four sovereigns stood around a wide stone table, its surface etched with the long arteries of the Trench River system.
King Dorephan of the Zora, eldest among them, leaned heavily over the map. "We are all aware of the western threat," he said, voice like the current—measured, but unrelenting. "But make no mistake: Atari does not seek only land. He seeks purification. Of blood. Of creed. That is not war—it is zealotry."
The Leader of the Gerudo, proud and steeled by desert suns, jabbed a finger at the fertile lands just south of her people's domain. "And yet the Valors have settled these plains—rich lands, just beyond our southern border. We had plans to expand there, but they moved first. Quietly. Then claimed it was always theirs."
The Leader of the Rito gave a slow nod, his feathers ruffling slightly in the chamber's mist. "And now they've begun settling the eastern banks of the Western Trench River. That is Hylian-claimed territory, and they know it. They act as if treaties mean nothing."
The Goron chieftain, massive and unmoving, rumbled low. "We see no threat in the peaks. No Valors in the mines. The stone is quiet. But if the trench is claimed fully by them, trade will choke. Even stone needs grain to survive."
Dorephan nodded. "Which brings us to the true offense—the one grievance we all share. The Valors still hold the southern mouth of the Trench River system. They control access to the sea, and by extension, the flow of goods, crops, and coin. It's a chokehold. And they know it."
"They've always known," the Gerudo added bitterly. "They smile while tightening the leash."
The Rito's voice sharpened. "And yet when Hyrule threatens them, they claim to be peace-seekers. But peace does not mean settlement. Peace does not mean redrawing rivers in the night."
Dorephan's tone grew colder. "So we are to ride with Atari? The man who speaks of bloodlines and divine authority? The man who calls this a holy war?" He paused, letting his words linger. "He would burn not just the Valors—but everything that does not bow."
The Gerudo gave a curt nod. "We fight not for his ideals—but for our future. If we do nothing, the Valors will surround us with wheat and walls and call it peace."
The Rito added, "Atari's fire may be dangerous. But it is fire we can see. The Valors erode from underneath."
The Goron chieftain finally spoke again, slow and deliberate. "Then let it be known. We have not yet marched. But we will not ignore the mountain's shaking."
Dorephan turned back to the map, his eyes lingering on the blue veins of the rivers below. "Then the Zora will act. Not for conquest. Not for Atari. But to prevent this world from tearing itself apart."
He looked at each of them in turn.
"But know this—we march with clear eyes. And we will not stay silent if the purge turns east."
The others gave nods—not of allegiance, but of reluctant agreement. A fragile accord, born not of trust, but of shared pressure.
And far beyond Zora's Domain, the banners of Hyrule marched northwards–the war had begun.