That night...The atmosphere in the Imperial army's barracks fell into silence. Not because of peace, but because of resignation—and fear. Nearly every soldier sat still. Some bowed their heads. Others whispered prayers—not for victory, but that this night wouldn't be their last.
Yet behind that despair, only a handful knew the truth: the city of Blacksand had become a massive trap.
For two full days, thanks to the brilliance of Josia, the city had been transformed into a giant battlefield laced with deadly snares. Under Rogg's command, every alleyway, corridor, home—even the water channels—were rigged with traps: oil pits, mines, automatic arrows, and tunnels filled with toxic gas.
"If this city falls, it will burn with anyone who dares step foot inside it," Rogg had declared that night.
And sure enough—seventy thousand troops from the combined Larfex and Balevad armies perished in every corner of the city, ensnared by traps.
Panic rippled through the enemy's ranks, and all they could do was wait for the sunrise.
In the enemy war camp of Balevad and Larfex...
"We should finish them off now! We've already lost too many!" shouted Neroxius, his voice thundering across the camp.
The night was dark, but his face burned with fury.
"Don't be reckless, Prince," Bolisi replied coolly. "You think they're holding out just to die? Trust me—they've prepared a worse hell behind those walls."
"Are you all cowards?!" Neroxius growled.
"Cowards?!" snapped Marguk, a Balevad general, rising from his seat. "Do you even know how many of my men died from traps on the western side?! The streets were slick with oil! Arrows flew from the walls! Flames burst from the ground! They're not defending... they're luring us into their man-made hell!"
Silence fell. Then Bolisi turned to Neroxius, his stare unflinching.
"If you want to charge again tonight, go ahead. But don't expect any of your soldiers to be standing when the sun rises."
Neroxius clenched his fists, his jaw tightening.
"So… we just wait?"
"Yes," said Prince Todius with a calm, sardonic tone as he leaned back. "Let them come out to fight. At the very least, the terror we've unleashed has drained their strength... or their will."
That night, they toasted. They feasted. They danced. They laughed. As if victory was already in their hands. The war wasn't over yet, but the numbers spoke for themselves—five hundred thousand soldiers versus a remaining force of just a hundred thousand Whiteheaven warriors. The odds were staggering.
But as dawn broke...
Smoke still rose from the ruins of the city. Crows circled above piles of corpses.
The combined Balevad-Larfex army stood in formation again, ready to end it once and for all.
Then they looked toward the heart of the city—Rogg's stronghold—and their eyes widened.
"WHAT?!" Neroxius screamed, his face going pale.
The Imperial forces of Whiteheaven were still standing. Steadfast. Ready to fight. Barely diminished from the day before.
"How is this possible?" Dorges whispered.
"Weren't they... supposed to be finished?" murmured Todius in disbelief.
The Doliex elite warriors, despite the loss of five of their commanders, remained a wall of iron. And beside them, the people of Blacksand—no longer mere civilians, but true fighters—stood with burning eyes. Not one had fled. Not one had surrendered.
Rogg climbed to the top of the city's watchtower, standing tall beneath the rising sun, and shouted one line that shook the enemy to the core:
"We don't fight to win! We fight to survive... and to crush every enemy who dares touch our soil!"
That morning, the scent of victory hung in the air.
Then came a sudden report.
"My lord! Fifty Balevad warships that attacked Vorthend and Ulmara have docked at Blacksand harbor!" a scout shouted to Billok.
Billok's eyes lit up. He rose triumphantly, chest puffed out—his chin lifted high in arrogance.
"See? I told you—we no longer need this fragile alliance," he sneered, casting a cold glance at his so-called allies.
Tension rippled through the ranks.
The Larfex troops began exchanging uneasy glances. The imperial commanders standing among them fell silent—as if they sensed the foul stench of betrayal.
"Bolisi, the time is now. Wipe them all out! Let Borrik and Birrok smash Rogg from the shoreline!" Billok declared, voice brimming with excitement, convinced victory was already his.
But across the way, Prince Todius boiled with rage at those words.
His eyes narrowed. His voice turned cold—razor sharp.
"You plan to betray us?" he whispered darkly.
Bolisi, who had remained calm until then, began to show the same smug arrogance.
"There's no need for an alliance... if we can claim victory on our own," he said with a wicked grin.
That tension spread like wildfire through the armies. Where once they stood side by side—shoulder to shoulder against the Empire—they now eyed each other with suspicion.
The scent of betrayal filled the air... and it would only take a single spark to ignite war.
And the spark came… from the shore.Suddenly, chaos erupted. Smoke billowed at the edge of the sea's horizon. Balevad ships were docked, and cries of alarm echoed from the harbor.The Imperial troops, once poised on the battlefield, suddenly turned and began marching swiftly back toward the city—toward the harbor, as if something more urgent than war had just arrived.
And this… was where Rogg's plan began.
He had dispatched two disguised soldiers.One posed as a Balevad soldier, carrying a message memorized from a language he'd been taught the night before:"Prince Borrik and Prince Birrok are taking the harbor from the Empire! Now is the time to seize all of Whiteheaven!"The soldier ran frantically toward the Balevad ranks.
The second, dressed as a Larfex warrior, shouted to the Larfex troops:"The Balevads have plundered Vorthend and Ulmara! They've taken everything! They plan to betray Whiteheaven!"
Panic. Confusion. Chaos.
And then… the explosion.
Without any official command, the Balevad and Larfex forces turned on each other.What was once a united formation became a deadly trap.Swords clashed. Arrows flew. Screams and explosions swallowed the battlefield.
War broke out among allies.It fractured. Shattered. Beyond repair.
For half a day, the battlefield turned into a slaughterhouse of coalition forces tearing themselves apart from within. Rogg's plan had worked. The enemy destroyed itself.Commanders from both sides perished.
Aelthar and Eryndor, trapped in the chaos, were brutally killed—trampled beneath soldiers who no longer knew friend from foe.
In the midst of the bloodshed, Bolisi and Billok retreated east, leaving behind heaps of their own dead.
The Larfex forces, realizing the betrayal and the collapse of their campaign, attempted to withdraw to Whiteheaven Palace.
But…
They were intercepted.
From the city's eastern gate came the thunder of hooves like an oncoming storm.
The Dark Legion.
35,000 elite cavalry under the command of Mendrova Robb and Josia—fresh, untouched by the earlier battle. Their armor gleamed, their eyes sharp as hungry wolves.
"Haaah?!" Todius's eyes widened."The Dark Legion...?" muttered Neroxius in disbelief."This doesn't make sense! My intel said they were defeated! Balevad controls Vorthend and Ulmara!" he said, his face pale."Damn it... Rogg played us all!" Todius growled.
Mendrova, cold and unreadable, mounted his horse.Robb stood at his left, holding the legendary sword Illeum Heraxes, his eyes locked on the Larfex troops.
"That's enough. Drop your weapons. You have nowhere left to return to," Mendrova said calmly—but lethally.
But Dorges refused."We are Imperial forces! If you attack us, you will be labeled as traitors!"
Robb couldn't contain his fury."Traitors have no right to speak of honor! My brother forgave you once... but I won't!" he roared.
Then, without warning—Robb spurred his steed, Goldstorm, forward."CHAAAARGE!!" Mendrova bellowed from atop the hill.
The Dark Legion descended like an avalanche.
Meanwhile, the cavalry force led by Brando Velary finally arrived, flanked by his four warlords—Velzhar Covarthis, Kravenoth Faelin, Vaedros Varelyn, and Khyron Velary—along with their elite troops.Behind them, Gubel, Mordin, and Malgris led the united Gatekeepers of Thalvion, now marching as a massive army toward the broken and wounded Balevad forces.
"Sir! The troops arriving from the harbor—they're not our reinforcements… they're the enemy!" cried a pale-faced scout.
Bolisi, who had been suspicious from the beginning, finally saw the full truth."We have to leave, Billok! This… this isn't right!" he said, voice trembling.
"What do you mean? Aren't those Borrik and Birrok's men? They've landed—this is our chance to take it all!" Billok snapped, still blinded by arrogance.
But then, war horns blared from the city of Blacksand.Rogg's army had returned—reorganized, resolute.
At the front rode Vuuxi, holding aloft two severed heads—Borrik and Birrok—and threw them at the feet of Bolisi and Billok.
"W-what…?" Billok staggered back, his face draining of color. "No… it can't be. They're… dead?"
"I told you… this was all wrong," Bolisi whispered, barely audible over the thundering horns.
"TROOPS! ATTAAAAACK!!" Billok screamed, his voice drenched in fury.
And the battle erupted.Brutal. Earth-shaking.Blood mixed with dust, blanketing the field.
Even though half of Rogg's army consisted of Blacksand's citizens, they fought with unmatched ferocity.Soon, Brando's forces joined the fight—Brisena, Nyx, and Elandra at the front.The old legends had returned.
They were once called the Angels of Death—the demon-slayers of Mozkdu—now reunited in battle.
"Well, look at us, together again—former executioners of hell!" shouted Nyx, his voice echoing through the battlefield.
"Haha! Not the full crew, but we're enough to crush any army!" Xino laughed, twirling his spear.
"What do you say, Commander? Shall we wipe them out ourselves?" Argento challenged.
"Deputy Commander, don't let your kill count fall behind ours!" Xino teased Brando.
"Hey, maybe it's the Princess over there who needs a break," Khyron added, nudging Brisena, who only shook her head with a weary smile.
Then, the Angels of Death unleashed hell.They didn't fight—they slaughtered.Swift. Precise. Savage.
The Balevad army shattered—torn apart before they could even think.Many from Blacksand could only watch in stunned awe, witnessing a massacre that felt like gods of war dancing atop the graves of their enemies.