The northern winds howled endlessly that night.Wintercrest stood shrouded in fog, torches flickering along the walls like restless stars.
In the grand hall of the Duke's fortress, the air was thick with tension. Commanders, adventurers, and envoys from various races filled the chamber — elves with sharp eyes, dwarves in steel armor, beastfolk wrapped in fur, and humans in noble coats.
All eyes were on the man at the head of the table.
Arden sat in silence, fingers steepled before him. The torches reflected in his golden eyes like twin flames.
Behind him stood Ryn and Mira, their hands resting on their weapons, while Lyra and Selene watched anxiously from the side.
The North had never seen so many powerful people gathered in one room.
And all of them were waiting for him to speak.
At last, he rose.
"The gods have declared war on mortals," he said, his voice calm but heavy. "And whether you believe or not, that light in the sky was no miracle — it was a threat."
Murmurs broke through the crowd.
One of the human nobles slammed a hand on the table. "You expect us to believe a god descended just to attack you? Duke Arden, surely you exaggerate—"
Before he could finish, Arden's aura flared.
Golden Qi exploded through the room, and the man fell silent instantly, frozen under the crushing weight of his presence. The air trembled, and even the torches flickered violently.
"I don't expect you to believe," Arden said softly. "I expect you to survive. If you think Heaven cares about titles, you're already dead."
Silence followed. Even the elves, usually proud and aloof, lowered their gazes.
Arden turned toward the war table, where a massive map of the continent lay marked with sigils and glowing runes.
"The Divine Vanguard is coming. I estimate one month before they breach the veil completely."
He pointed to several regions marked in red.
"The Empire to the south has already begun conscripting soldiers. The western kingdoms will either surrender or burn. The dwarves have sealed their mountain gates. And the elves…"
His eyes shifted to the tall silver-haired elf seated nearby. "Will you join them in hiding, or stand and fight?"
The elf leader, Lady Elaris, met his gaze. Her emerald eyes burned with pride. "We do not run, Duke. The forests of the west owe you a debt. You saved our kin from slavery once — the elves of Vael'drin will answer your call."
Arden nodded. "Good."
He turned next to a towering man with crimson fur and sharp eyes — the chieftain of the beastfolk.
"And you, Fenra?"
The beastman grinned, showing his fangs. "You fed my people when humans called us monsters. The North is our home too. My warriors will fight beside your Direwolf Legions."
A murmur of approval rippled through the room.
Arden's gaze swept across everyone gathered. "Then we begin preparations. Within three weeks, we will form the Northern Alliance. Our armies will train under one command — mine. Our goal is not survival. It is victory."
Selene stepped forward, hesitant. "Arden, are you certain? Facing Heaven's army—"
He cut her off gently. "If the gods wish to play war, I'll show them what it means to bleed."
A few gasps rippled through the crowd, but no one dared to refute him.
Later that night, Arden stood alone on the northern ramparts.The sky above was clouded, heavy with the weight of divine energy pressing from beyond the stars.
He could feel them — eyes watching from above, probing the mortal world for weakness.
Ryn approached quietly, wrapped in a fur cloak. "You should rest."
Arden shook his head. "Rest won't change what's coming."
She stood beside him, looking at the horizon. "Do you ever regret it? Defying Heaven again?"
He was silent for a long moment before answering. "Regret? Maybe. But not enough to kneel."
Ryn smiled faintly. "Then I'll stand beside you, no matter who we face — god or monster."
Arden glanced at her, and for a brief moment, the cold expression softened. "Good. I'll need warriors who don't fear the divine."
Far beyond the mortal sky, in the Celestial Domain, a thousand golden gates opened.
From them poured legions of radiant warriors — angels clad in silver and white, wielding spears of light. At their head stood a figure in azure armor, eyes burning with wrath.
Archangel Kael.
"He dares form an army against Heaven?" Kael growled. "Then let the mortal's defiance be his last act."
Behind him, Seraphiel's shattered halo hung suspended in chains — a grim reminder of their fallen brother.
Kael pointed his blade downward. "Descend. Burn the North. Leave no heretic alive."
The following days passed like a storm.
In the North, forges blazed day and night.Dwarven smiths worked alongside human blacksmiths, reforging weapons with runes and Qi channels.Elven magi wove defensive barriers across the mountains.Beastfolk trained direwolves the size of warhorses to serve as mounts.
The North had become a fortress.
And at its heart, Arden stood in the snow, surrounded by his generals — Ryn, Mira, Elaris, Fenra, and Selene — as banners bearing the sigil of the Wolf Fang fluttered above them.
Arden raised his sword to the sky, golden Qi swirling around him like a storm.
"Hear me!" he called out. "The gods descend to destroy us — but we are no longer mortals crawling in the dirt! Today, we rise as one! For the North! For freedom! For every soul that dares to fight the heavens!"
The soldiers roared in unison — thousands of voices echoing through the frozen valleys.
The war had begun.
High above, Kael's army pierced through the clouds like a burning spear.
Arden watched from the fortress walls, his eyes gleaming gold beneath the storm.
"Let the heavens come," he murmured. "The North will answer."