Chapter 949 — The Fire Before the Storm
The world trembled with the march of four armies.
What began as a steady advance through the frost-bitten plains became a rhythmic thunder—armor clashing, banners snapping, war drums echoing through the narrow valleys that led toward the Church's stronghold.
Kael rode at the front, his blackened armor veined faintly with the blue shimmer of chaos energy pulsing from beneath the plating. Every step of his warhorse sent shards of frost cracking beneath its hooves. The sky above was bruised and heavy, clouds roiling in unnatural swirls.
The fortress loomed in the distance—a monstrous cathedral carved from obsidian and bone, spires reaching like the fingers of a god who refused to die. The stained glass windows flickered with pale light, and even from miles away Kael could sense it.
The shard's power.
The chaos core.
And something else—something darker.
Eris's voice stirred faintly in his mind. "There are at least six energy signatures matching the shard's frequency. The Church is channeling them into a single core."
Kael narrowed his eyes. "So they built more."
"Yes. But they're unstable. I can feel the discord in their magic."
"Then we'll exploit it."
Behind him, the columns of allies advanced in formation.
Thalren's sea knights moved like liquid silver—swords and tridents gleaming in formation.
Greystone's warriors thundered in heavy armor, hammers and shields ready.
The Ironside, metallic and relentless, marched in perfect synchrony, their constructs humming with cold precision.
And among them were the Hollow's Pillars—Lyria, Varik, Selene, Fenrik, and Zerathis—all at the vanguard, all carrying the same emblem burned into their armor: the sigil of the Hollow sun, rising from shadow.
Kael drew his sword—Obsidian's Edge—its black steel rippling with faint traces of blue. The sound alone made the front lines fall silent.
"Today," Kael said, his voice carrying across the wind, "we end an age of whispers and fear. The Church made gods of themselves and weapons of our pain. No longer."
A murmur rippled through the soldiers, swelling into a chant of unity.
Eris whispered, almost reverently, "Your heart is steady now."
Kael's lips twitched faintly. "No room for doubt anymore."
As the allied armies crested the final ridge, the full might of the Church came into view.
White-robed paladins filled the plains before the stronghold, their armor gleaming like sunlight caught on steel. Massive siege engines stood behind them—towering constructs powered by pulsing shards of chaotic light.
The Church had turned faith into fuel.
"Positions!" Kael shouted, his hand cutting through the air. "Thalren, flank the southern ridge! Greystone—hold the center and draw their fire! Ironside, deploy shields for the first charge! Pillars—"
He turned, his eyes burning with focus. "With me."
Zerathis's daemon wings flared, embers curling around his armor.
Lyria drew her blades, the air around her shimmering with radiant heat.
Varik's gauntlets sparked with lightning, Selene's runes glowed, and Fenrik's hammer hummed with celestial energy.
They were not soldiers. They were avatars of the Hollow's strength.
Kael raised his blade high. "For the Hollow!"
The ground shook as they charged.
The first clash came like thunder.
Magic met steel, screams met silence.
Kael plunged into the thick of battle, his sword cutting through the first wave of zealots with almost surgical precision. The chaos energy flared with every swing, each strike leaving trails of black fire in the air.
Eris guided his movements, her voice cool and analytical even amidst the chaos. "Left. Three paces. Behind you."
Kael pivoted, his blade splitting a paladin's halberd before impaling him through the chest. He didn't flinch. He couldn't afford to.
All around him, the world was a symphony of violence—Zerathis tore through armored knights with blazing claws, Lyria moved like light incarnate, carving paths with fiery grace, and Selene unleashed runic blasts that turned the air itself into a storm of sigils.
Kael fought like a man possessed, yet his focus was absolute.
"Kael," Eris whispered suddenly, "they're focusing their power into one point. Look—"
Kael's eyes darted upward. The cathedral's central spire had begun to glow, veins of crimson and blue pulsing up its length like blood through arteries. The clouds twisted tighter, the air growing heavy with the smell of burning ozone.
"They're activating the weapon."
"It's not ready yet. They're rushing it."
"Which means it'll explode," Kael said. "Unless they stabilize it."
Eris hesitated. "Kael… the only way to stop it before detonation is to destroy the core directly."
He nodded, tightening his grip. "Then that's where I'm going."
"Alone?"
Kael's voice was steady. "Always."
He broke through the enemy's front lines like a blade through silk, every strike carrying the weight of command and conviction. The chaos in him burned brighter than ever, his aura a storm of black flame and cold light.
Behind him, the allied armies pressed forward, pushing the Church's forces back toward the fortress walls.
The world roared.
And above it all, Eris whispered in a tone that almost sounded like fear.
"Kael… I feel something inside that fortress. It's not the shard. It's something else."
"What?"
"Something… alive."
Kael's jaw clenched. "Then we end it."
He lifted his blade, its edge blazing with blue-white fury. The power within him surged—chaos and will intertwined, burning brighter than the battlefield around him.
And as he charged toward the fortress gates, the first true battle of the new age began.