Ciel carried out his mission with precision, releasing Lumen and sending her back to the God of Sun with the critical information about the barrier's weakened southern edge. The operation was conducted in secret, leaving the City Lord unaware of the betrayal unfolding beneath his feet. The angel, bound by the Demon Lord’s mark, departed silently, carrying the knowledge that would set the wheels of devastation into motion.
The following day, Verdince was gripped by tension as the City Lord Lexor personally investigated reports of disturbances near the Emerald Tree. The concealed presence of the Archdemons had left faint traces of their incursion, enough to raise suspicion but not sufficient to reveal the full scope of their activities. As Lexor descended into the depths beneath the city, his senses remained on high alert, his warrior instincts finely attuned to any signs of danger.
But the investigation was interrupted. Suddenly, the city was shattered by the blaring wails of alarms echoing across its streets and towers. The sound pierced through the air like a scream, causing citizens and soldiers alike to freeze in terror. Lexor’s communicator crackled to life as panicked voices filled the channels, heralding the imminent approach of the God of Sun and his holy army. The south side of Verdince was thrown into chaos as messengers relayed the grim news to every corner of the city: the divine invaders had arrived, their presence an unmissable beacon of destruction.
Lexor abandoned his investigation and rushed back to the surface, his feet pounding against the polished stone floors of the tower as he ascended. Bursting out into the open air, he was met with a scene of growing panic. Citizens flooded the streets, their faces pale with fear, while soldiers scrambled to assemble their formations. Overhead, the green barrier shimmered faintly, its protective aura the city’s only reassurance against the advancing threat. But it would not hold forever—not against the God of Sun.
Lexor acted swiftly, activating his messenger crystal with practiced ease. His voice was sharp and commanding as he sent orders to every soldier in the city to converge on the south side immediately. The city's defenses had to be rallied without delay. As he began making his way toward the southern fortifications himself, his mind raced with thoughts of the imminent battle and the familiar foe who awaited him. He had faced the God of Sun once before, a grueling encounter that had left both combatants scarred. This time, Lexor was determined to emerge victorious. Verdince, the Eastern Capital of the Final Empire, would not fall—not today, not under his watch.
But Lexor’s determination was laced with an assumption he could not have known to question. He believed, with unwavering certainty, that the Demon Lord and his companions were already aware of the God’s approach and were making their way to the frontlines to join the battle. After all, the King of Hell had pledged his support to Verdince and its people. Lexor counted on that power to turn the tide of the confrontation.
He was wrong.
Far from the chaos gripping the city’s southern defenses, the Demon Lord and his inner circle gathered within the tower’s highest chamber. The room was opulent and serene, a stark contrast to the turmoil below. Luxurious furnishings lined the walls, and a grand window offered a panoramic view of the skyline. From this vantage point, they could see the horizon where the God of Sun’s army rose like a divine storm, their celestial light illuminating the sky in radiant hues of gold and white.
The Demon Lord sat at the head of the gathering, his demeanor calm and composed. In one hand, he held a crystal goblet filled with Verdince’s finest wine, its deep red hue catching the flickering light. Mira sat beside him, her gaze fixed on the horizon, equal parts awe and dread reflected in her emerald eyes. Greed and Insight lounged nearby, their expressions unreadable as they observed the unfolding spectacle. Even Baphomet, ever the reluctant participant in the Demon Lord’s schemes, lingered quietly in a shadowed corner, his black eyes glinting as he watched the divine host advance.
The approaching army was a sight to behold, a force that seemed more divine than earthly. The God of Sun’s soldiers marched in perfect formation, their golden armor shimmering like molten fire. Behind them, angels soared through the sky, their radiant wings leaving trails of light in their wake. The Archangels, even more luminous and awe-inspiring, hovered at the forefront, their power palpable even from a distance. At the center of it all, the God of Sun loomed like a celestial titan, his presence so overwhelming that it seemed to make the air itself tremble.
The Demon Lord raised his goblet to his lips, savoring the wine as he watched the display. He seemed unbothered, even amused, by the spectacle before him. For him, this was not a moment of panic but of opportunity. He observed with the detached curiosity of a predator studying its prey, knowing that the chaos to come would provide him the perfect stage to seize power.
As Verdince erupted into chaos and Lexor rallied the city’s defenders, the Demon Lord remained above it all, biding his time. To him, the battle was already won—not through brute force or divine intervention, but through the careful manipulation of the pieces now moving across the board. The storm on the horizon was not a threat; it was the beginning of a game he intended to dominate.
The God of Sun was a breathtakingly radiant figure, his presence more akin to an unstoppable celestial force than a mortal foe. His long, flowing blonde hair shimmered like threads of gold under the divine light of his aura, cascading down his armored shoulders with an almost ethereal brilliance. His strong, chiseled features carried an undeniable majesty, his olive-toned skin glowing faintly under the weight of his immense power. Yet hidden beneath the crimson and gold armor that encased his perfect form lay a single, bitter reminder of his mortality—a stab wound scar inflicted by Lexor during their fateful confrontation. Though concealed from view, this blemish marred his otherwise divine image, a testament to the audacity of humanity’s resistance.
The God carried with him a weapon of unrivaled craftsmanship and power: a bow forged from true starfire. Its shimmering surface seemed to pulse with energy drawn from the heavens themselves, radiating an intensity that would make lesser beings tremble. His throne, carved from gleaming gold and adorned with intricate patterns of celestial motifs, symbolized both his dominion and his unyielding strength. It was not stationary, however, for this throne was carried aloft by an elite squadron of Archangels—each a vision of divine perfection. Among them was Lumen, newly returned to her master, her presence signaling the beginning of the conflict that now loomed over Verdince. The Archangels bore an uncanny resemblance to Lumen, their golden hair and fiery orange eyes suggesting a kinship that transcended mere allegiance. They appeared as siblings born of the same celestial light, united in their unwavering devotion to the God.
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Flanking the God of Sun were his champions—Sunrise to his right and Sunset to his left. These twins, though mortal, bore the unmistakable mark of their master’s blessing. Sunset, the male, was adorned in pinkish-purple and silver armor, its sleek design emphasizing his muscular build. He wielded a massive greatsword forged from true starfire, the blade exuding a palpable heat as if ready to cleave the very heavens.
Sunrise, the female, was equally striking, her reddish-pink gold armor glinting like a radiant dawn. She carried a spear of true starfire, its elongated form a perfect extension of her graceful strength. The twins radiated divine energy so potent that it seemed they had been reborn in the image of the God himself, transformed through his power into living embodiments of his might and glory. Their flowing blonde hair and glowing orange eyes mirrored those of the God, marking them as champions who stood apart from the rest of his followers.
The army marching alongside the God of Sun was a spectacle of divine magnificence. Brimming with orange, luminous energy, their formation seemed less like mortals and more like a surge of light advancing toward its target. Angels in crimson robes and golden armor flew above the ranks, their pristine, untarnished wings trailing streams of fiery power. They carried golden weaponry of all forms—blades, bows, and shields—each glowing with enchantments fueled by the divine flame of their master. Their fiery magic sparked and crackled in the air, creating an oppressive heat that heralded their presence.
Beneath the angels marched the knights, their silver armor gleaming even in the shadows of their celestial counterparts above. Crimson tabards marked their allegiance to the Sun’s glory, while their weapons—swords, axes, and polearms—were carried with the discipline and precision of seasoned warriors. Among their ranks strode sorcerers, cloaked in robes adorned with intricate patterns of flame. These sorcerers manipulated fire magic with practiced skill, conjuring spells that added to the army’s overwhelming display of power.
The soldiers moved in perfect synchrony, their collective might driving the earth beneath their feet to tremble as they advanced. Their destination was clear—the southern edge of the emerald bubble encasing Verdince. The barrier shimmered faintly, its protective glow seemingly fragile in the face of such divine opposition. The God of Sun’s army pressed onward, their march an unstoppable tide of glory, destruction, and light. As they neared the city, the horizon burned brighter, the divine radiance rising like the sun itself, ready to consume all that stood in its path.
Verdince stood poised on the precipice of war, its defenders readying themselves for the inevitable clash. Yet, the divine forces advancing upon the city represented more than mere might—they embodied an ancient, celestial wrath that sought not just victory but dominion. The battle on the horizon would not simply decide the fate of the eastern capital; it would shape the balance of power in a war that had raged for centuries, a conflict steeped in the blood of mortals and gods alike.
The golden knights and sorcerers of Verdince stood resolute, their armor gleaming under the faint light that filtered through the emerald barrier encasing the city. Each knight bore an emerald-green tabard emblazoned with the symbol of the ancient tree—Verdince’s lifeblood and its greatest shield. This symbol, a proud mark of their unwavering resolve, seemed to glow faintly with an energy that reflected their determination. The soldiers, swords raised and shields braced, assembled in meticulous formation along the southern defenses. Sorcerers clad in silver and emerald robes were interspersed among the ranks, their hands already crackling with arcane energy as they prepared their spells. Together, they awaited the inevitable clash, their eyes fixed on the horizon where the God of Sun’s army advanced like an unstoppable storm.
The city itself was a hive of activity. The alarms, still ringing out across the streets, drove panic into the hearts of Verdince’s civilians. Those unable to fight gathered what few belongings they could carry—family heirlooms, clothing, precious trinkets—and descended into the safety of the northern sanctuaries. These hiding places, carved into the inner structures of Verdince and hidden beneath its towers, offered little comfort, but they were the last line of refuge for those who feared the wrath of a god.
Among the chaos, there were those who refused to hide. Ordinary citizens, who lacked the formal training of Verdince’s army, found courage in the face of despair. Farmers, blacksmiths, and merchants—all who could wield a blade or cast the faintest spark of arcane magic—stepped forward. Their makeshift weapons ranged from rusted swords and battle-worn axes to enchanted staves and wands retrieved from forgotten corners of their homes. Though their armor lacked the polish of the golden knights and their spells did not match the might of trained sorcerers, their conviction was undeniable. These ordinary people, bound by their love for the city and the family they left behind in hiding, marched to join Verdince’s formidable army.
The streets leading to the southern edge of the city thrummed with footsteps and hurried commands. Soldiers barked orders as reinforcements took their places, shields locking in an unbroken wall. Sorcerers muttered incantations under their breath, their hands glowing faintly as they prepared to unleash magical fury upon the invading forces. The city’s militia, a patchwork force of determined civilians and arcane adepts, bolstered the main formations, filling gaps with raw defiance. The defensive lines bristled with steel and magic, the emerald barrier shimmering above them like a guardian silently watching over its charges.
The atmosphere was thick with tension, the kind that precedes an inevitable storm. Though fear lingered in their eyes, none among the defenders wavered. They knew the stakes—the survival of Verdince, the eastern bastion of the Final Empire, rested on their shoulders. And though the might of the God of Sun’s army loomed ever closer, the people of Verdince stood as one, united by an unyielding resolve.
Beyond the barrier, the horizon burned with divine radiance, growing brighter with every passing moment. The holy army of the God of Sun drew nearer, their golden ranks shimmering like molten fire as they marched with unrelenting precision. The angels soared above, their celestial wings slicing through the sky, while the God’s champions glimmered like twin stars alongside their master’s golden throne. The stage for the battle was set, the final moments of preparation slipping away as the first clash of mortal and divine loomed on the edge of destiny.
