The third day at Berdhshire Fortress began like any other—the pre-dawn muster of guards changing shifts, the steady clatter of mess hall preparations, and the rhythmic sound of soldiers maintaining their equipment in the armory courts.
Inside the fortress, the group was given quarters to rest. Morgana informed General Kaider that they were waiting for one more person—and that they had come to aid him in the fight against the dark legions.
And after listening to the clear explanation, Kaider understood the Mother Supreme's intention perfectly. So did Morgana; that was the reason she didn't oppose coming here, but her only worry was that the Empress wouldn't leave this matter easily.
The Chosen Ones—the title had become a tired cliché. Once revered, it now carried little weight. People of all races had grown weary of waiting for prophesied saviors who never seemed to arrive in time. The prophecies themselves had lost their meaning in the face of relentless destruction.
It was an unfortunate narrative that had shaped this cynicism.
Even though most of the empire's citizens were happy with the current state of things, not everyone shared the same opinions.
The current trio of Older Chosen had done their best, but even they couldn't stop all the dark armies from massacring entire human settlements.
The last battle at the eastern front had been a devastating one though they had won with Heroes leading the way yet the loss of life on the empire side was signifiicant.
It was also one of the reasons that raised doubts and debates about the Heroes.
If word spread that new Chosen Ones had arrived, people wouldn't feel hope—they'd feel mocked by fate.
Even Mother Supreme didn't understand the state of things happening in the realm.
That's why the Mother Supreme wanted these young warriors to prove themselves first—in the crucible of real battle against the dark legions—before anyone uttered the word "Chosen."
Morgana was briefing Rena and Taeryn, who were feeling restless about the battles they have to fight from now on.
Baren still hadn't arrived even on the third day. The letter they sent must have reached Baren, and there was still no sight of him.
But as the sun crested the eastern peaks, casting long shadows across the fortress walls, everything changed with the urgent blast of war horns echoing across the valley.
The distant sounds of horns blew up in the distance and the emergency reports were sent to the Fortress.
"Contact! Northern approach!"
The cry came from the highest watchtower, where Origin-enhanced scrying crystals allowed sentries to observe movement dozens of miles away.
"Massive force approaching!"
"Estimated strength... by the gods... thousands!"
General Kaider appeared on the battlements within moments, his armor hastily donned but his bearing as composed as if he had been expecting this exact scenario.
Through his own enhanced viewing glass—a device that combined traditional optics with Origin-working to penetrate distance and atmospheric interference—he surveyed the approaching threat.
What he saw made his jaw tighten with grim focus.
Stretching across the horizon like a black tide came an army that dwarfed anything the fortress had faced in decades.
Orc warriors in crude but effective armor marched in surprisingly disciplined formations, their weapons glinting in the morning light.
War beasts the size of houses lumbered alongside them—creatures that had once been natural animals before exposure to corrupted Origin-energy had twisted them into monstrosities of horn, fang, and unnatural hunger.
But most disturbing of all was the figure that commanded this horde from atop a throne mounted on the back of a massive skeletal dragon, an undead creature.
And riding atop that undead creature was the Lich, and he wasn't just an ordinary lich but a king.
Even at this distance, the Lich King's presence radiated malevolent power that made the fortress's protective wards flicker and strain. His form appeared as little more than shadow and bone wrapped in tattered robes, but the aura of death that surrounded him was visible even to those without Origin-sight.
"What blighted madness is this?!" He stared at the horizon with mixed feelings. He just froze for a minute there, standing still.
Then he heard the horns blasting again, warning signals blaring all out.
He came back to his senses and looked around at the panicked soldiers.
"Sound general quarters!" Kaider barked to his signal officers.
"All companies to battle stations! Send word to the town—evacuate all non-combatants to the deep shelters immediately!"
Orders were passed out swiftly, and soldiers moved with haste.
This was going to be one of the most intense battles they had ever fought.
The fortress erupted into controlled chaos as six battalions of seasoned soldiers moved to positions they had drilled countless times.
Witches took their places at key defensive points, their power conduits already beginning to glow with accumulated energy.
Battle witches are scattered around the battalions, a minimum of three to four for each platoon. These battle witches have special training different from the ones in the Silverspire.
Ballistae crews loaded their massive weapons with Origin-enhanced projectiles capable of punching through the heaviest armor, while archers strung their bows with arrows that would burn with silver fire when released.
Morgana found Kaider on the command platform, her own battle robes already replacing the travel clothes she had worn during their journey.
She came prepared as soon as she heard the horns.
Beside her, Darian checked the straps of his armor one final time, his golden aura beginning to expand as he prepared for combat.
Rena and Taeryn followed closely behind, but their expressions were full of nervousness.
"General," Morgana called over the noise of preparation, "what's happening?"
"What's the situation?"
Kaider's expression was grim but determined.
"Worst I've seen in twenty years of frontier service. That's not just a raiding party—it's a full legion, probably ten to twenty thousand strong. The Lich King leading them is something new, more powerful than the usual undead commanders we've faced."
He gestured toward the approaching horde, now visible as a dark smudge against the northeastern hills.
"They'll reach our outer defenses within the hour. My men are good, but we've never faced numbers like this."