At the East Gate of Raya Lucaria, soldiers turned the winches of the cranes, hoisting the shattered, fragmented corpse of Astel, Naturalborn of the Void.
Immediately upon her return, the Full Moon Queen had joined the siege against Astel. It was a battle destined to be sung of for generations.
Giants, dragons, beastmen... Rennala summoned countless spectral creatures from the rifts of time and space, as if the ancient coalition of races that once defied the Erdtree had been reborn to surround the star-beast. Meanwhile, the Full Moon hanging high above poured down a torrent of sorcery like liquid silver, instantly drowning Astel in its brilliance.
The outcome of the battle had never been in doubt. Astel's head had been twisted off by the Carian Regal Scepter, its six legs severed by the Royal Knights, and its body torn to shreds by the combined sorceries of Rennala and the Academy mages. Before dawn, the fleeing citizens had already begun returning to the city. People started clearing the rubble and searching for missing loved ones, while those whose homes had been destroyed were being sheltered and settled in the public squares.
When the fighting ended, Raya Lucaria organized no victory celebrations. Instead, the people were immersed in mourning and bewilderment. Had this been a conventional invasion, the Liurnians would have united instantly, meeting the enemy with fury and hatred. But this attack had been so sudden—like a freak storm or an earthquake—that there seemed to be no target for their vengeance.
Some suspected that the monster had been summoned through a foul ritual by the capital of Leyndell. In the Lands Between, only the Golden Order possessed both the motive and the capability to strike at Caria in such a manner.
For reasons unknown, the Carian authorities remained silent for several days. It wasn't until much later that the public learned the Royal Family had finally convened a council. Everyone waited with bated breath for the outcome.
Inside the Church of the Cuckoo, an invisible storm seemed to be raging.
"Blood for blood! Expel the Golden Order's diplomats! Issue an ultimatum to Leyndell to hand over the mastermind, and mobilize our forces for war! Weakness only invites more greed!"
"I am prepared to muster the armies of my domain and march south to break Stormveil Castle! The Golden Order must pay the price for attacking Raya Lucaria!"
On the left side of the hall stood the projections of various sorcerer-lords from across the land. Everyone scrambled to voice their support for war, each raising their tone higher than the last.
On the right side, only a few Masters of the Academy were in attendance. Publicly, the Academy always maintained its absolute loyalty to the Full Moon Queen and its policy of non-interference in politics. However, this incident was too extraordinary. The Academy's high leadership had urgently consulted records regarding the Eternal City and were so horrified by what they found that they felt compelled to send representatives—even if it meant exposing the fact that the Academy wasn't truly as indifferent to politics as it claimed.
"Please, everyone, remain calm," a Glintstone Master said. "The arrival of Astel is very likely the direct work of the Greater Will itself... Rash actions will only invite calamity. What we need most right now is cool-headedness—"
Before the Master could finish, he was drowned out by the surging indignation of the lords.
"Coward!"
"Weakling!"
The Glintstone Master wiped sweat from his collar, wishing he could remove his stone mask just to breathe. He knew that these sorcerer-lords, whose ancestors were also products of the Academy, were not fools. They did not lack rationality or self-control. Their current loss of composure was not born solely of righteous indignation or ambition for glory.
This uncontrollable rage was not simple; it didn't come entirely from within them. Rather, it stemmed from a fear they didn't even realize they felt. That fear emanated from the sovereign—the woman sitting silently upon the throne.
On the surface, Rennala showed no signs of anger or agitation. Yet, the Glintstone Master could feel that she was likely the most furious and agitated person in the room. This intensity was buried deep, but the killing intent radiating from her core had already overflowed, seeping into everyone around her.
These vassal lords couldn't consciously perceive it, but the instincts in the depths of their souls were screaming warnings: they were standing beside a grieving, vengeful dragon that could tear them to pieces at any moment, even if their physical bodies were thousands of miles away. This was why they were so restless and unable to restrain their aggression.
"The work of the Greater Will? Doesn't that prove even more clearly that Leyndell orchestrated the attack and the assassination?" a noble demanded.
"But even during the height of the War against the Giants, or when the Great Ancient Dragon breached the capital, the Greater Will never intervened directly!" the Master shouted. "Yes, there are natural barriers between the Altus Plateau and Liurnia. You think Caria is safe behind its borders and that we can instead seize the lands of Limgrave.
"But you do not understand the consequences of truly provoking the Greater Will! Is the fate of the Eternal City not warning enough?"
The lords were not intimidated by the Master's words.
"To spout such nonsense based on ancient books from thousands of years ago is utterly ridiculous," a young lord spat. "The god the Golden Order worships is Marika. All this talk of Finger Reader Crones conveying the oracles of the Two Fingers... if hiring a few mad crones to babble nonsense constitutes a divine decree, then every pile of dung on the side of the road in the Lands Between would have a god's flag stuck in it. If you ask me, the Greater Will is nothing but a fabricated lie!"
"Regardless, if Leyndell has a means of summoning monsters, then we must teach them a lesson they will never forget, no matter the cost. If we remain silent and show weakness, the attacks will only continue," an elder noble said.
At that moment, a herald entered through the side door and handed a silk scroll to the Full Moon Queen.
Rennala unfurled the scroll, read it for a moment, and then raised her left hand.
"Silence!" The Carian Knight standing beside her saw the Queen's gesture and slammed the butt of his halberd heavily against the floor, shouting the command.
The bickering finally subsided.
"The host of tens of thousands led by Radagon has crossed the border," Rennala spoke. "They have invaded Liurnia via the hidden paths of the Ruin-Strewn Precipice."
The Academy Masters looked at each other, speechless.
"Assemble the army," Rennala said, standing up. "I shall lead the campaign in person."
"Oooooooh!" A forest of swords and staves rose into the air, hailing the Queen's decision. "Great is Caria!"
The bells of Raya Lucaria tolled once more. The news spread to every corner: the Golden Order had torn up the peace treaty and invaded the Carian Kingdom. The Third Liurnian War was about to begin. The long-standing illusion of peace in the Lands Between was shattered, and the dark clouds of conflict gathered on the horizon.
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