The great bell of Halrath Cathedral tolled across the spires of the Human Capital, its solemn echo a call for gathering. Even the merchants in the lower markets and the beggars clinging to the frost-bitten steps of the church paused, heads bowed in instinctive reverence. It was not an ordinary day of prayer—it was judgment.
Inside the marble sanctum, nobles, generals, bishops, and paladins gathered beneath the radiant mosaic of the Goddess of Light. High Cardinal Marovian, his robes lined with threads of gold, stood at the altar. His voice rang like steel.
"By the sacred word, monsters have defied divine order. Not only do they live where they should perish, but they now gather beneath a false lord who claims radiance as his mantle."
The chamber seethed with murmurs. The Council of the Crown had convened. To one side sat King Aldros IV, sovereign of men. His face was grave, the weight of years etched in his eyes. To the other side, priests in gleaming white whispered scripture, their gaze sharp upon the king. Between them lay a throne of power—contested not only by men but by faith itself.
---
Duke Renwalt, master of the eastern marches, rose first.
"My liege, if reports are true, this Luminus has united goblins, ogres, and even dire wolves. They've begun fortifying villages. Already, caravans have been raided, patrols slain. We cannot treat this as rumor. This is an uprising."
Another noble scoffed, his velvet sleeves rustling.
"Bah. Goblins and ogres? Rabble in the woods. Send a thousand knights, and their heads will decorate our walls."
But then General Veynar, scarred veteran of two crusades, leaned forward. His one good eye burned with memory.
"With respect, you underestimate. Scouts report discipline among them—formations, weapons, defenses. Wolves with coordinated strikes. Ogres acting as shields. This is not instinct, this is command."
His words silenced the chamber. The nobles shifted uneasily.
Cardinal Marovian spread his arms, voice rising.
"Do you not see? The false light deceives them. He twists what is holy, gathering the abominations of the earth beneath a banner of blasphemy. If unchecked, he will lead them into our lands, into our homes. And then? The Goddess' light will dim."
The nobles muttered prayers, crossing themselves. Fear mingled with greed—some saw danger, others saw opportunity.
Finally, King Aldros spoke.
"We have long waged war upon monsters. Yet never have they risen with unity. If this 'Luminus' is real… then this is not merely war. It is heresy, rebellion against divine law."
His fist clenched the throne.
"And rebellion must be crushed."
---
Not all agreed openly. Later that evening, in hidden chambers, voices clashed without the ears of the church.
Lord Velric, a younger noble with progressive leanings, argued,
"Monsters uniting… if such is true, perhaps we should consider dialogue. If this Luminus is sentient, if he can reason—"
The older Duke Renwalt snapped,
"You speak treason! Dialogue with beasts? They are born of sin, their blood tainted. If they walk like men, it is mockery of men. We kill them, as we always have."
Velric's eyes narrowed.
"And yet… what if we cannot? What if their strength grows beyond what we can easily crush? Would you risk a full war when the northern borders still bleed from famine?"
The nobles argued deep into the night. Some smelled weakness in the crown, others sought peace in practicality. The Church, however, would allow no compromise.
---
Two days later, the decision was forced. The Holy See proclaimed:
"By the Goddess' command, the False Radiance shall be purged. The knights of the Radiant Crusade march at dawn."
Tens of thousands of soldiers were mustered. Paladins blessed by divine rites sharpened blades that shimmered faintly with holy aura. Priests prepared exorcism rites.
But quietly, amidst the pageantry, a different order was spoken only in whispers:
Send envoys. Not to parley, but to infiltrate. To learn the truth of Luminus' strength, his weaknesses, his allies.
The Church would strike with sword and sermon alike.
---
Far from the gilded spires, the monster alliance grew restless. The Ironwood Trials had ended, and bonds were forged in sweat and blood. The goblins of Luminus' tribe trained under ogre guidance, their once-clumsy swings now sharper, deadlier. Wolves patrolled the outskirts, their howls warning of intruders.
In the center, under the great oak that served as council tree, Luminus convened his allies.
* Gorath, massive arms crossed, his booming laugh shaking the ground.
Rugo, sleek and vigilant, amber eyes gleaming.
Kira, the young goblin strategist who had grown sharper with each trial.
Elandra, the mysterious elf who had begun advising Luminus on magic and diplomacy.
Luminus raised his hand, the faint glow of his radiance pulsing in the dusk.
"Our scouts report human banners gathering. The Church will not ignore us now. We've bought time with unity, but their march will come soon."
Rugo growled low, hackles bristling.
"Then let them come. Wolves are not afraid of men."
Gorath smirked.
"Bah, humans are brittle. Their swords break. Their voices whine. Crush them, and they scatter."
But Elandra's tone cut cold.
"You underestimate them. Humans may be fragile, but their faith makes them relentless. They will throw armies until the last village burns."
The council fell silent.
Kira adjusted the crude map carved into bark.
"If we fight blindly, we lose. If we run, we lose. We need… something else."
Her green eyes met Luminus'.
"We need diplomacy."
The word hung heavy. Diplomacy—between monsters and humans? Impossible. Heresy. Yet, in that moment, none laughed.
Luminus' gaze drifted skyward. He remembered the faint fragments of his past—a world where people sought peace, where unity was fragile yet real. Was it arrogance to try again here? Or destiny?
He lowered his hand.
"Prepare the defenses. But also… if the humans send envoys, we will receive them. Not as prey. Not as enemies. But as equals."
Gorath grunted.
"Bold words. But if they betray—"
Luminus' radiance flared, soft but firm.
"Then we will answer in kind. But we must give them the chance."
Rugo tilted his head, ears twitching.
"Wolves know when to bite and when to wait. I will watch them closely."
Thus, for the first time in the history of the Wildlands, monsters prepared not only for war—but for words.
---
Far away, beneath the cathedral's golden spires, the Crusade banners unfurled.
In the village, wolves sharpened their fangs, ogres hefted their clubs, goblins trained with stolen blades.
And above them all, Luminus stood in silence, his radiance glowing faintly in the night. Not yet Demon Lord, not yet conqueror. But something new—something the world had never seen before.
A leader of monsters who dared to dream of peace.
But peace would be tested in fire.
The first envoys were already on their way.
---
Three riders approached the wildlands, their banners fluttering in the cold wind. Gold and white—colors of the Church—yet trimmed with the crimson seal of the Human Crown.
The wolves saw them first. From the ridges above, Rugo and his pack prowled silently, amber eyes following every movement. His voice was low, like gravel beneath stone.
"They come cloaked in light… but their hearts stink of steel."
Beside him, two younger wolves shifted restlessly.
"Shall we strike, Alpha?" one asked.
Rugo's ears twitched, gaze fixed on the riders.
"No. The Lord of Light commands they enter unharmed. But if they draw blade…" His lips curled back, exposing white fangs. "…then we tear their throats before their cries reach the sky."
The Arrival
The humans did not ride recklessly. They slowed their steeds as they neared the borders of the monster settlement, raising open palms in the gesture of peace. Yet each wore armor polished to a gleam, and beneath their cloaks, the faint bulge of weapons betrayed readiness.
The leader was Sir Caldus, a knight of renown. His eyes were steady, his beard silvered with age. He was no fool, nor zealot—yet his faith was iron.
Behind him rode Brother Themon, a priest of the Radiant Order, lips moving in ceaseless prayer as if to shield himself from the unholy ground.
The last was Lady Serane, emissary of the Crown, her face hidden by a traveling hood. Of the three, her gaze was sharpest, measuring everything—the strange huts, the smoke of cookfires, the red eyes peering at them from the shadows of the forest.
They had expected filth and savagery. Instead, they found order. Goblins patrolled in formation, their weapons not rusted clubs but polished steel spears. Beastmen walked alongside them with wary pride, and in the distance, massive figures—ogres—stacked timber to raise fortifications.
Themon muttered a curse under his breath.
"An abomination. Monsters should not walk as men."
Caldus did not answer. His gaze was fixed on the center of the camp, where a strange ripple of light and shadow marked the presence of their true host.
The Meeting
The monsters gathered in tense silence as the envoys dismounted.
Luminus was already there, his slime form condensed into a tall, humanoid shape, his voice resonant yet calm. Mira stood at his side, hand resting on her blade, while Gorath loomed behind them like a living mountain. Kaelen of the Redmane crossed his arms, golden mane bristling, and Rugo crouched low at the edge of the circle, hackles raised.
Caldus stepped forward first, striking his armored fist to his chest.
"In the name of His Radiance, the One True King of Men, we come to speak words before blood is spilled. I am Sir Caldus of the Crown Guard. This is Brother Themon of the Radiant Order, and Lady Serane, emissary of the Throne."
Luminus's form rippled faintly, the gesture almost like a bow.
"I am Luminus, Lord of this growing domain. These are my allies. Speak your purpose."
Themon spat on the ground, unable to contain himself.
"Our purpose is holy. You trespass upon lands sanctified for mankind. You gather beasts, goblins, and worse into mockeries of order. This is a sin against the Radiant Lord. We come to deliver warning—return to the shadows, or be purged."
A rumble shook the air. Gorath's deep laughter rolled out like thunder.
"This one is bold, slime. I like him. May I crush him?"
Caldus raised a hand swiftly, his voice cutting through the tension.
"Hold, Brother Themon. We are not here to provoke battle. Lady Serane—speak the will of the Crown."
The Crown's Offer
Lady Serane lowered her hood, revealing sharp eyes and a face marked with faint scars—signs of one who had survived war, not court. Her voice carried no hatred, only cold pragmatism.
"The Kingdom sees what rises here. You are not like the Demon Lords, nor are you mere beasts. You are… something in between. My liege does not wish war on two fronts while the northern empire sharpens its blades. Therefore, he sends this message: submit to vassalage under the Crown. Swear fealty, pay tribute, and restrain your kind from spilling human blood. In return, you will be spared the crusade."
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Kaelen's claws dug furrows in the dirt.
"Vassals? You would chain us again, after centuries of slaughter?"
Mira's lip curled.
"So mercy is just another leash."
Elira whispered a spell under her breath, her eyes flickering with cold fire. Rugo growled low, barely restrained.
Luminus, however, remained still. His voice was soft, yet it carried like steel through the camp.
"And if we refuse?"
Serane did not flinch.
"Then when the Church raises its banners, the Kingdom will march beside them. And no parley will follow."
The Tension Breaks
The goblins muttered angrily, and beastmen hissed, but Luminus raised a tendril, silencing them.
He studied Serane for a long time.
"You speak of tribute, of fealty. But I see no honor in your offer—only fear of war elsewhere. Tell me, emissary… does your king truly believe monsters can be more than enemies? Or are you sent only to stall until the crusade gathers strength?"
For the first time, Serane's expression faltered. A flicker of something—regret, perhaps—crossed her face. But Themon's voice broke in, shrill with zeal.
"Do not waste breath, Lady Serane! These things cannot change! Slay the slime now, Sir Caldus, before his lies spread further!"
Rugo surged to his feet with a snarl, fangs bared. Gorath's massive fist slammed into the earth, shaking the ground. Mira's blade was already half-drawn.
For an instant, blood hung on the edge of inevitability.
Then Caldus stepped between them, his voice commanding as if forged from iron.
"No. Not today." He looked directly at Luminus. "I have seen cruelty in men and honor in beasts. But know this—if you march against our walls, I will stand upon them. And I will not yield."
The knight's words held no hatred—only conviction.
The Parting
Serane drew her cloak close again.
"The choice is yours, Luminus of the wilds. Bend the knee, or face the storm that comes. We will return in seven days for your answer. Use them well."
With that, the envoys mounted their steeds once more. Themon glared venom at the monsters until the last moment, whispering curses under his breath. Caldus kept his eyes forward, but his hand lingered over the hilt of his blade, as though unwilling to trust even the silence of their departure.
When they were gone, the camp erupted. Voices clashed—some calling for war, others whispering caution. Kaelen spat into the dirt.
"They speak of chains as if they were gifts. Better to die free."
Mira nodded sharply.
"Seven days. They will use them to rally their crusade, not wait for our answer."
Luminus remained quiet, his form shifting like storm clouds. Finally, he said,
"Then in seven days, we must be stronger than we are now. For whether we kneel or stand, war is coming."
And far beyond the trees, unseen by both monster and man, shadowed figures watched with cold amusement—the Demon Lords, patient as spiders in their webs.