Lynel, the captain of the third squad, roars and spins his steel staff, wielding two spiked spheres at each end of the weapon, capable of tearing flesh and pulverizing bone. The broad-shouldered man with a thick gray mustache pushes with every ounce of physical strength, forcing the enemies back the short distance they had managed to penetrate into the castle's garden, sending them back out through the West gate of the wall.
"[Max Power]!"
Skill: Max Power.
Requirement: None.
Cost: 20 Ki.
Description: Doubles the user's physical strength for 60 seconds.
Warning: A healthy physical condition is recommended to withstand this skill.
The captain channels his inner ki. The man's muscles bulge, swelling his armor even further. He strikes the ground with one end of the staff, causing two effects: blowing the dark elves away with the shockwave, and launching himself three meters into the air. Upon falling, Lynel swings the staff like a hammer and strikes a minotaur's head, sinking its skull into its torso and forcing it to sit on the stone cobblestones. Seconds later, the minotaur's body falls to its side.
Lynel lands panting, his body burning beneath the armor and bathed in sweat. Aware that he cannot maintain such overexertion for long, he steps back and swings the staff, striking the edges of the entrance threshold. The bricks and the steel grate give way, collapsing and sealing the path.
The skill's effects conclude, and Lynel's muscles return to normal. The exhaustion is immediate, but even though his armor feels heavier, the captain refuses to lessen his efforts.
"Count!" Lynel orders to find out how many of his soldiers are left, but as his gaze sweeps the garden, he discovers only a handful of warriors remain standing, some on their knees, too injured to fight. Lynel's face darkens. "You all, fall back to the castle and take cover however you can. Take the wounded as well. Remember that we are the buckle holding the belt of the United Kingdoms together. Faltering is forbidden!"
Lynel doesn't know if his words of encouragement will serve to boost their morale, but he cannot stay to find out. The captain runs to assist at the remaining entrances. Glancing sideways at the castle, his expression darkens even more, certain that only a miracle could save them.
Meanwhile, on the outskirts of the kingdom, a two-hour horseback ride away lies the Great Rift. An abyss that looks like a wide mouth or a wound in the world. A bridge of broken stone, older than the kingdoms, serves as a threshold to what lies beneath in the underground, a territory known as the Underdark—a place that can be cold and damp, or so hot your organs might burn, an underworld where gems take the place of stars.
Halfway to the Great Rift, upon a hill, stands an open tent. A closer look would reveal that the tent's folds are tightly stretched human skin. Moonsong takes a seat on a bone throne, and raising a spyglass, she watches the invasion of the kingdom of Stoicus unfold. Named in honor of Stoicus, who wasn't even a king, but a barbarian leader who dedicated himself to killing anything that crawled out of the Underdark in a sort of personal crusade.
Moonsong is a dark elf; her hair is white as the moon and her skin an almost black-blue, like the sky on the darkest nights. Her beauty is superlative even among her species where beauty is the norm, and her light armor of plenilunium features a suggestive neckline, leaving part of her thighs and the skin of her hips exposed, further accentuating her excellent figure. On the left side of her waist hangs a bone flute, and on the right, a curved sword of plenilunium—a black mineral with purple, red, and blue reflections, as lethal as it is resilient and precious. Crude human alloys simply part like butter beneath a plenilunium blade.
Centuries after Stoicus's death, an outpost was established—barely a barracks and a watchtower—from where a soldier high above, using a far more rustic and primitive spyglass than Moonsong's, would warn of potential invasions from the underground. Over the decades, the settlement evolved into a town full of people looking to take advantage of the green plains or the mining of the Great Rift. Finally, the kingdom of Stoicus was formalized.
Unlike other realms, the kingdom of Stoicus is not ruled by bloodlines. Instead, every century, the United Kingdoms gather to elect a noble family to lead it. The current sovereign is King Marc, and like his predecessors, his role is to serve as a containment point for any subterranean threat.
"Humans... Always running and escaping from their mortality," Moonsong says with a cold, humorless smile. "In a century, the time I take to choose new armor or plan the integration of a new lover into my harem, they watch their kings and heroes be born and die. Could there be a more embarrassing creature?"
In reality, Moonsong can think of several more disgusting creatures. Goblins, slimes, imps... But at least they are aware of how pathetic they are and limit themselves to existing as savages. Whereas humans build monuments and walls as if trying to overcome death with their works. For many elves and long-lived species, those attempts are an insult to nature.
"I happen to like humans," replies another female voice, this one rougher than it is melodious. Moonsong glances sideways to where Blood-And-Guts stands, fulfilling her role as a guard. Unlike Moonsong, Blood-And-Guts wears a full-body suit of armor, because she is an absolute warrior, as one can guess from her height and the muscles in her neck. Blood-And-Guts's smile is radiant, and her long silver hair is wavy and soft. The elf looks far kinder than she actually is. "You should see humans when they defend their short lives... It's very amusing. Though it's even funnier when they realize it's all over and they start begging."
Moonsong's eyes widen.
"Are they capable of asking a dark elf for mercy? Are they that mad and delusional?"
"I don't like to disappoint them, so I sort of give them a little hope until I get bored."
"What did you do with Stoicus?"
"Exactly! You should have seen how his face lit up when I told him his beloved wife and daughter were alive. Of course, I didn't tell him their true condition; that would ruin the surprise. Personally, I wouldn't call that living."
Blood-And-Guts's attention is caught by a silhouette approaching on horseback. The woman raises her blue hand and places it near her forehead.
"Look! Here comes your husband, Moonsong. Bearing news, I assume... Hopefully good ones."
Moonsong sighs and rests her elbow on the arm of the throne. Her gauntlet drums against the bone. She lowers her gaze to a ray of sunlight filtering in from outside until it touches her metal boot. Particles of plenilunium flake off and are carried away by the wind.
"Yes... Good news," Moonsong murmurs, masking her growing nervousness.
Plenilunium. An extraordinary metal in the dark, invincible under the full moon, and terrifying under blood moons. But beneath the sun... It turns to dust, or so is the norm. The fact that the dark elves are fighting in broad daylight is proof that they are being supported by incredible arcane forces. But even such support has its limits.
There isn't much time left.