Seven months of training had ended.
What remained was proof.
Fort Nightfall stood silent in the early hours of dawn, its stone walls etched with claw marks and mana scars left deliberately unrepaired. Daniel preferred it that way. A fortress that forgot war was already dead.
Inside the command hall, he reviewed the final assessments alone.
The numbers no longer surprised him.
The eighteen Elders—the original Red Flags—had crossed a threshold few elite units ever reached. Each could fight continuously for five full hours without rest. Their bodies had adapted beyond mortal standards, their breathing regulated, their mana circulation precise and economical.
They were no longer merely soldiers.
They were weapons.
The students—the remaining eighty-two—had followed faster than expected. Their bodies, once thin and awkward, had filled with hardened muscle. Their eyes were sharp now, movements deliberate. Fear had been burned out of them through repetition and consequence.
They lacked only one thing.
Blooded combat.
That was inevitable.
Daniel's gaze paused on two names.
Aaren.Olga.
Aaren—once a prince who arrived in plain clothes—had shed every trace of royalty. His posture was straight, his movements clean, his expression calm to the point of severity. He had chosen the spear early, not because it was elegant, but because it demanded discipline. Under Daniel's guidance, he had learned patience before aggression—control before release.
Olga had been quieter.
Dark-haired. Dark-eyed.
She spoke little and observed much.
Her weapon of choice was a black bow forged by Lilith herself—its limbs reinforced with mana-conductive alloy, its string humming softly even at rest. Olga did not waste arrows. She did not hesitate. She waited, and when she fired, something died.
Neither of them flinched during training.
Neither complained.
They were fearless—not because they lacked fear, but because they had mastered it.
Daniel closed the report.
That was when Talon screamed.
Not audibly—but through the bonded connection Daniel shared with the great bird.
Daniel's eyes snapped open.
The vision flowed into him.
The capital.
The sky tearing apart like rotten cloth.
A portal—unstable, pulsing with demonic mana—had opened in the heart of the city.
Creatures poured through.
Buildings burned.
Civilians scattered.
Chaos.
Daniel's expression did not change.
He rose.
"Aaren. Olga."
Both were already standing.
"Show them a glimpse of our power," Daniel said. "Finish the threat. No delays."
They bowed once.
That was all.
—
Silver wolves tore across the land like living storms.
Their paws never slowed, never faltered, mana cushioning each impact as they crossed miles in minutes. Wind ripped at cloaks and armor, yet neither rider shifted.
Aaren rode at the front, long spear resting across his shoulder.
Olga followed, black bow held loosely in one hand.
They were young—but no one would mistake them for children.
Black armour clung to their frames, matte and unadorned. Their faces were calm. Serious. Focused.
By the time the capital came into view, smoke already rose in thick columns.
They entered the city at full speed.
People screamed.
Guards lay broken.
Five massive figures stalked the town square—Tier Seven demonic beasts, their bodies warped with muscle and chitin, their roars shaking stone.
Dozens were already dead.
Aaren dismounted first.
He planted his spear lightly into the ground.
Olga stepped beside him, eyes scanning angles, rooftops, movement.
They took in the scene in seconds.
Olga glanced sideways.
Aaren smiled faintly.
As if the answer were obvious.
He moved.
Aaren ran forward—not recklessly, but with measured acceleration. When he reached the edge of the square, he stabbed the spear's tip into the stone.
The shaft bent.
Then snapped back.
The spear launched him upward like a released spring.
Twenty feet into the air.
The nearest demonic beast barely had time to look up.
Aaren inverted his grip mid-air, aligned his body weight, and drove downward.
The spear plunged straight through the creature's skull.
Bone shattered.
The beast collapsed in a thunderous crash.
Before the echo faded, another beast lunged from the side.
Aaren did not turn.
He shifted the spear's opposite end back without looking.
The charging beast impaled itself on the shaft, its own momentum driving the weapon through its core.
It died choking.
Aaren wrenched the spear free from both corpses as if pulling it from soft earth.
He walked forward.
Calmly.
The third beast charged head-on.
Aaren stepped in.
One thrust.
Straight through the heart.
The creature slammed into the ground, dead before it finished falling.
The fourth tried to flank.
Olga loosed an arrow.
Black streak.
The arrow pierced its eye and exploded internally, liquefying the brain.
The fifth beast hesitated.
Then turned.
Retreat.
Olga lowered her bow slightly.
"Aaren," she said dryly, "if you were serious about killing them, we'd already be on our way home."
Aaren sighed.
He adjusted his grip.
"Life-Ending Spear Technique," he said quietly."Heart-Seeking Spear."
The air stilled.
"First Form," Aaren continued. "Seek my enemies… and end them."
He threw and it vanished into spear, light moving at the speed of light.
Half a mile away, the fleeing beast felt a sudden, piercing pain in its back.
The spear punched through its heart and pinned it to the ground.
The beast convulsed once.
Then fell silent.
The wolves moved immediately.
They tore through the corpses with brutal efficiency, dissolving corrupted flesh and scattering remnants into nothingness.
Minutes later, the square was empty.
Clean.
Aaren retrieved his spear.
Olga re-strung her bow.
They mounted.
They left without ceremony.
Without reporting.
Without seeking praise.
—
Daniel watched it all through Talon's eyes.
A small smile tugged at his lips.
Good job my students, you have done well.
Portals would continue to open.
Occasionally.
Unpredictably.
But now the kingdom knew something else.
Sometimes, it took only one Red Flag, riding a wolf, to end disaster.
The news spread faster than wildfire.
Faster than fear.
Faster than lies.
And the name Red Flags Battalion became something whispered with praise instead of doubt.
Daniel leaned back in his chair .
Two months remained.
And the frontline would soon retreat for his advancement.as the war general.