The roars of the kings thundered against the golden walls.
"Come out of your hole, coward!" the Lion King bellowed, his claws gleaming under the sun.
"Jax! Worthless god! You don't even have the courage to show your face!" Carlos III spat, his face twisted with rage.
"Your disciples won't save you!" one of the high elves sneered, raising his voice with disdain.
But the eight disciples were there, standing on the walls. Smiling. Their eyes burned like embers, calmly watching the gathered armies.
Behind them, the walls were crowded with believers. Men, women, children, the elderly. Not soldiers, not nobles—just common people. Yet the pressure in the air was suffocating.
The faith of millions had given them power. Every believer was a soldier.
And beyond the gates, countless armies of humans, beasts, and monsters waited, all united under Jax's name.
The Titan King growled, raising a fist the size of a tower.
"Stupid human! Do you really think peasants and fanatics can stop us?"
