The capital's walls stood scarred but defiant as Elian Valorian prepared his forces for Ironhold's approaching legions, their distant horns a grim promise of war. The throne room battle against Valorius's spectral warriors had left the air thick with Aether and the acrid scent of ichor. Liora's spellweavers, their voices hoarse, linked the Crown of Dawn to the Mythic Aetherial Core, its combined radiance pushing back the specter's shadows. Valorius retreated, his crowned form flickering, but his rasping laugh echoed: "You cannot banish me forever, boy." Elian's grip tightened on his Epic Aetherial Blade, its golden light steady in the dim hall.
Outside, the city buzzed with preparations. Valoria's soldiers sharpened blades, orc berserkers painted war runes on their armor, and dwarven engineers recalibrated cannons. Sylvara's Fey mages wove protective wards, their silver wings casting shimmering light. But General Korran's distrust simmered, his scarred face set as he oversaw the defenses. "Sire, we're stretched thin," he said, his voice low. "Ironhold's legions outnumber us, and these relics of yours—where do they truly come from?"
Elian met his gaze. "They come from Valoria's will to survive, General." But Korran's silence spoke volumes, a fracture in their bond.
Veyra, the male Shadow Rogue, returned from scouting, his cloak dusted with ash. "Sire, Ironhold's camp is in the Iron Peaks, fortified with Aether turrets. They've got a new ally—Gnolls, savage and numerous."
Elian's stomach twisted. Gnolls, a brutal canine species, were a new threat. He summoned the Faith System. [Current Belief Points (BP): 500]
The city's preparations boosted faith. [BP increased to 2,800.]
"Show me options for 2,800 BP," he thought.
[Gold: 280,000 gold coins] [Aether Crystals: 280 crystals] [Rare Aether Scout: 2,500 BP]
"Convert 2,500 BP to Rare Aether Scout," Elian decided. A glowing orb materialized, capable of mapping enemy positions. Krag, nearby, grunted. "Another trinket, human? Your magic's mighty convenient."
"For Valoria's sake," Elian said, activating the scout. Its light revealed Ironhold's camp: thousands of troops, Gnoll packs, and turrets. Elian planned a preemptive strike to disrupt their march.
Leading a mixed force—rogues, orcs, and Fey mages—Elian moved under cover of night. Veyra's traps disabled turrets, and Sylvara's spells cloaked their approach. Elian's Aetherial Crescent cut through Gnoll scouts, their howls cut short. But Ironhold's commander, Lord Draven, emerged, his blade crackling with dark Aether. "Valorian, you're a fool to come here," he sneered.
The clash was brutal, Elian's blade meeting Draven's in a shower of sparks. Fey magic and orc axes turned the tide, but Draven escaped, vowing retribution. As Elian's force retreated, a scout reported: "The specter's shadows are spreading in the capital!"
Elian's heart raced. Valorius was exploiting their absence, and Ironhold's legions were still coming.