The first rays of sunlight slipped through the tall windows of the royal palace in Luthoria, painting golden lines across the walls carved with ancient symbols. The air was still—too still—until a faint breeze stirred the curtains.
Leo was already awake. He hadn't really slept that night; his mind was too heavy with what the king had said the evening before. Responsibility pressed on his chest like armor he couldn't take off.
He sat on the edge of his bed, staring at his sword hanging by the window. The morning light shimmered across its blade, as if it were whispering of the glory—or doom—to come. He washed his face with cold water and met his own reflection: calm eyes, sharp focus, and something else buried deep—a quiet fire waiting to rise.
Just as he reached for his armor, the door burst open. A young attendant stumbled in, breathing hard, his face pale.
"Sir Leo! The king requests your presence in the grand hall immediately!"
Leo said nothing. He simply nodded, strapped his sword to his side, and walked out. The rhythmic clinking of his armor echoed through the corridors, where every soldier who crossed him bowed quickly, eyes full of respect… and fear.
When he entered the grand hall, King Diger stood before two long lines of knights and commanders. The hall's banners swayed gently, their golden lion crests glowing in the light.
"Leo," said the king, his voice calm but commanding, "I've chosen ten of my strongest commanders and several elite soldiers. You'll select who joins you on the next mission."
Leo walked slowly down the line, studying each face. Some men bore scars that spoke of old battles. Others still had the look of youth—brave, but untested. He could sense their power, their uncertainty, their fear.
Finally, he stopped midway, turned to the king, and said with a faint smile,
"They all seem capable, Your Majesty… so I'll take them all."
The king's brows furrowed. "All of them? Why?"
Leo met his gaze steadily. "Because this won't be an ordinary battle. What's coming isn't just war—it's something far darker. Half will remain here to guard the palace—your family, your kingdom, everything that stands. The rest will come with me."
The hall went silent for a long moment. Then the king spoke again, his voice low but resolute:
"Very well, Leo. Then let it begin. The age of new leaders… starts today."
Leo bowed deeply and left.
Outside, the royal courtyard was alive with sound: soldiers shouting orders, horses stamping, the sharp ring of steel against steel. The smell of oil and sweat and fire filled the air.
Then he heard her voice.
"Leo!"
He turned. Princess Lita was running toward him, her white cloak flowing behind her like a streak of light against the chaos. Her blue eyes were full of worry, her breath uneven.
"Leo, if you die out there…" She paused, swallowing hard. "I'll never forgive you."
He chuckled softly, trying to lighten the tension. "Don't worry, Lita. Everything will be fi—"
He didn't finish. A soldier came running through the gate, gasping, his armor scorched.
"Sir! The battle's started! The forces of Gothers—they're attacking the eastern border! Commander Darin and the troops are holding the line at Arithelia Gate, but they need reinforcements!"
Leo's eyes hardened instantly. He turned to Lita. "Then we have no time."
He gave quick orders to his second-in-command. "Gather the ten knights and the soldiers I chose. We ride now."
Lita stepped closer, gripping his arm tightly. "Just… don't get hurt, Leo. I don't want to see you swallowed by this war."
He smiled gently, his voice quiet but firm. "I'll come back. I promise."
He mounted his horse, and before the heavy gates shut behind him with a deep metallic echo, he looked back once. Lita stood there, motionless, her eyes fixed on him until he disappeared beyond the palace walls.
■ ■ ■
The ride to Arithelia was long, the path rough and cold. Wind whipped through the riders' cloaks as the distant echoes of battle reached their ears—metal clashing, screams carried by the air. The closer they got, the darker the sky became.
Then Leo saw it.
The clouds were twisting, changing shape. They darkened until they looked almost alive—then they moved. From within the storm, shapes emerged: massive, winged creatures of smoke and flame, twisting through the air. Their eyes glowed blue, and every breath they took set the horizon ablaze.
One of the knights shouted, voice trembling, "What are those things?! Are they dragons?"
Leo narrowed his eyes. "Not dragons. Illusions. Gothers' sorcery—warnings of what's coming."
He urged his horse faster. The earth beneath them began to tremble.
■ ■ ■
Across the battlefield, on a hill of ash and broken stone, stood Thron, the second commander of Gothers after Veir. Her crimson armor glowed faintly, inscribed with fiery runes pulsing like veins of molten rock. Her long black hair flowed behind her, alive in the storm wind.
She raised her sword—a black blade humming with blue fire—and smiled coldly.
"Burn it all," she shouted, her voice booming across the field. "Leave no wall standing! No breath alive! And find me two prizes… Sherry and Leo."
A monstrous roar erupted from the ranks behind her. Thousands of soldiers, cloaked in darkness, surged forward like a tide of shadows. The ground shook with every step. The air stank of iron and burning.
From the opposite hill, Leo saw the smoke rising, the sky torn apart by blue flames. He took a deep breath, feeling the familiar weight of his sword in his hand.
"This is it," he muttered. Then, louder: "Knights of Luthoria! Today, we defend not just our land, but the light itself! No one crosses this gate alive!"
A chorus of voices answered him, fierce and unified. The soldiers formed up, shields locking, armor gleaming in the dying light.
And then, the world exploded.
The first wave of Gothers' magic struck—a surge of blue fire that slammed into their shields, sending men flying. The clash of steel and sorcery filled the air, the ground cracking beneath their feet.
Leo charged straight into the flames, his blade slicing through shadow and smoke. Every movement was precise, controlled, unstoppable. Around him, his men fought with the courage of those who had nothing left to lose.
Above the battlefield, lightning flashed, turning the world white for a heartbeat. For that instant, Leo could see Thron standing on her hill, smiling at him. Their eyes met—two forces of will colliding across the chaos.
She lifted her sword and pointed it straight at him.
"Found you."
■ ■ ■
Back at the palace, Lita stood at the balcony, watching the horizon. The once-blue sky was now a storm of fire and darkness. The sound of distant thunder rolled across the land like a warning.
She whispered to herself, her voice trembling,
"Come back alive, Leo… please."
And somewhere far beyond her sight, the war of the Four Kingdoms truly began—its first spark igniting at the Arithelia Gate, where fire met light, and destiny itself caught flame.