The dawn had not yet risen.
Dark clouds covered the sky while the wind swept across the vast plain, carrying with it the scent of ash and blood.
The land looked as if life itself had abandoned it. The bodies of fallen warriors lay scattered everywhere, and swords buried in the earth glimmered beneath the faint glow of dying battlefires.
At the center of the devastation...
one man still stood.
His body was covered in wounds, and blood ran down the dark cloak that bore the symbols of the five clans.
Yet his stance did not falter.
He stood like a mountain that refused to fall.
That man was Arkath, leader of the Clan of Intent.
And standing before him was his enemy.
A figure surrounded by thick darkness, as if the night itself had melted around his body.
His eyes glowed with a strange, cold light, and the air around him trembled with a dark power unlike anything the warriors of the world had ever known.
He was the man whose name had begun to spread through whispers and fear.
Mavor the Black.
A heavy silence filled the battlefield.
Then Mavor smiled faintly and spoke in a deep voice.
"Finally... the leader of the clans."
Arkath tightened his grip around the hilt of his sword.
But before any strike could be made...
he paused.
Slowly, he lifted his gaze toward a distant rocky cliff overlooking the battlefield.
He felt something there.
A hidden presence.
Yet his eyes saw nothing.
On that cliff...
a man stood within the shadows.
A long black cloak hid his features completely, as if his body itself belonged to the darkness.
It was the Leader of the Shadow Clan.
No one on the battlefield sensed his presence.
He watched the confrontation in perfect silence.
When Arkath briefly looked toward the cliff...
the Shadow Leader smiled slightly and whispered to himself,
"Even within the shadows... he sensed me."
Then he returned his attention to the battlefield.
He had not come to help.
He had come to witness only one thing.
The true power of Mavor the Black.
...
At last, Mavor moved.
Dark energy erupted around his body, and the ground trembled beneath his feet.
He spoke calmly.
"Let us see if the leader of the clans truly deserves his reputation."
Arkath gave no reply.
He simply raised his sword slowly.
And then-
he vanished.
In the next instant the two blades collided.
A violent explosion of power shook the earth, sending a shockwave across the battlefield and knocking nearby warriors to the ground.
The battle between Arkath and Mavor had begun.
From the cliff above, the Shadow Leader watched every movement carefully.
He analyzed the fight with cold precision.
Soon he noticed something strange.
Every time Mavor unleashed a powerful attack, the darkness surrounding him weakened for a brief moment.
A very small moment...
but it was there.
Then something even stranger happened.
For only a single second...
a monstrous shadow appeared behind Mavor.
A towering figure far larger than his body.
Something ancient.
Something terrifying.
Something resembling the creatures spoken of in forgotten legends.
The Shadow Leader's eyes widened.
He whispered slowly,
"So... you are merely a vessel."
But before the battle could continue...
the clash of swords faded.
The roar of combat vanished.
As if time itself had paused.
Days Earlier
Inside a wide training field within the fortress of the Clan of Intent, the sound of wooden swords echoed through the air.
A young boy lunged forward with a powerful strike.
But his opponent blocked the attack easily and pushed him back, sending him crashing into the dust.
The boy quickly stood again, wiping blood from his lip.
He was not angry.
He was determined.
His name was Sarifan.
"Again," he said stubbornly as he raised his sword.
At the edge of the field, a younger girl watched the fight with concern.
Narin, Sarifan's sister.
"You're going to hurt yourself again," she sighed.
Sarifan smiled with confidence.
"Warriors don't give up."
At that moment the training suddenly stopped.
A tall man entered the field.
All the warriors bowed respectfully.
It was Arkath.
He looked at his son for a moment before speaking calmly.
"Strength is not the strongest strike."
Sarifan stopped moving.
Arkath continued.
"Strength lies in knowing when to strike."
But that day would not remain an ordinary one.
Only hours later...
something unexpected arrived at the fortress gates.
Through the mist appeared a massive wolf running toward the castle.
Its fur was dark gray and its eyes were sharp.
It was the wolf known among the clan's warriors.
Virkan.
But this time he was not alone.
Across his back lay the body of a man covered in blood.
The guards opened the gates quickly as warriors rushed toward them.
When they lowered the wounded man to the ground, they recognized him immediately.
Raithan.
One of the clan's greatest scouts.
His body was covered in wounds.
Arkath knelt beside him.
Raithan opened his eyes with difficulty.
With trembling hands, he gave Arkath a folded piece of leather.
A map.
"We found them..." he said weakly.
Then he continued with great effort.
"An entire army..."
The warriors exchanged uneasy looks.
But Raithan had one final message.
With his last strength he spoke the name that froze the entire hall.
"And leading them..."
"...Mavor the Black."
Silence filled the room.
Arkath slowly rose to his feet.
Then he gave a single command.
"Summon the envoys."
In the days that followed, messengers of the Clan of Intent rode toward the other clans.
Messages were sent to:
The Clan of Fire.
The Clan of Shadows.
The Clan of Wind.
The Clan of Mist.
Messages carrying an unprecedented proposal.
An alliance between the five clans.
But within the shadows...
a man watched everything silently.
Tharin, Arkath's deputy.
He stared at the battle map before speaking quietly.
"Something is wrong."
Arkath looked toward him.
Tharin continued.
"I fear... there may be a traitor among us."
But time was not on their side.
Before the alliance could be completed, the army of darkness moved.
And on a night swallowed by shadows...
the war began.
The war that history would remember as
The War of the Black Dawn.
The war had begun.
Across the dark lands, armies were already marching beneath the banner of Mavor the Black.
But far from the battlefield...
somewhere within the lands of the clans...
a new destiny had begun to awaken.
And its name was
Sarifan.