(Note: The following events take place twelve hours before the appearance of the Blood Moon.)
Not far from the humble territory of Golan lay the mighty Kingdom of Ashur, a realm so vast it dwarfed the Blue Planet many times over. Within its colossal fortress, in a grand and resplendent hall, King Arex Ashur XIV presided at the head of a long table carved from a wood unknown to men. Along its sides sat his ministers and royal advisors, each positioned according to their rank and influence.
The air was solemn, heavy with anticipation. No one dared to break the silence. For several long minutes, the only sound was the quiet beating of anxious hearts—until at last, the king's majestic voice resounded.
"News has been confirmed. A new Lord's Cycle has begun under the will of Chaos. You all understand what this means. The fate of our kingdom—its prosperity, or its utter ruin—depends on it."
The advisors who were already aware of the rumors nodded grimly, while those hearing it for the first time sat in stunned disbelief.
King Arex paid no mind to their expressions. His tone remained steady, dignified.
"According to our latest intelligence, vast stretches of unclaimed lands have manifested along the borders of our realm. Among the many races granted dominion there… humans are included."
"In two days at most, we will receive more accurate maps and reports on the extent of these territories."
"Our spies further report that our neighbors—the Orc tribes, the Elven Empire, and the vile Insectoid swarms—have already begun mobilizing."
He paused, his gaze sweeping over the table. "In truth, we are already behind. What are your proposals?"
The ministers exchanged glances until the Minister of War stood, for only the king was permitted to speak while seated. He gathered his thoughts before replying:
"Your Majesty, history records that one hundred and twenty years ago, when the last Cycle began, the Blood Moon rose with it. From today onward, it shall return each month until the Cycle's end. It is all but certain that the Blood Moon will appear tonight. With it will come monstrous tides across the kingdom's borders and within its lands. While these tides will primarily target the newly summoned lords, the rampaging beasts will still threaten our people to varying degrees. I recommend we ready the garrison and notify all noble houses immediately to prepare for defense."
The minister lowered his head, awaiting the king's judgment.
"Very well," King Arex declared. "You have permission to mobilize the garrison."
"We shall dispatch notices via teleportation gates at once, after this council adjourns. Are there other proposals?"
The Minister of State rose.
"Your Majesty, what of the new lords themselves? Shall we observe the old traditions?"
The king rested his chin on his hand, tapping the table lightly with the other. After a contemplative pause, he answered:
"As for human lords, follow tradition… with some adjustments. We will finalize those details before the seven-day mark. As for the other races—should any survive past seven days—we shall eliminate them indirectly, as we always have. Take care with this matter. The will of Chaos must not be provoked openly."
"Yes, Your Majesty!"
The meaning was clear: direct destruction of a lord's territory would invoke Chaos's wrath. But if beasts destroyed it—or if accidents engineered by unseen hands brought about their ruin—then it was fate, and Chaos would not intervene.
Another minister stood.
"And the newborn, unclaimed lands, Your Majesty?"
"Any with strategic value shall be contested against our neighbors, whatever the cost. The rest… follow tradition. Make preparations accordingly."
"Understood, Your Majesty!"
The king's eyes hardened, his voice carrying a weight that pressed down on every soul present.
"Also—inform all noble houses that should any wretch claim even a single inch of new land without royal sanction, their title will be stripped, and eight generations of their bloodline executed."
A shiver swept through the hall. None doubted his intent.
"Understood, Your Majesty!"
Not a single advisor dared object. Thus concluded a council whose decisions would lead to the rise—or death—of millions, yet left the king unflinching.
"I hereby declare this council adjourned. From this moment forth, all decrees stand. May the light of Ashur's glory shine eternal!"
"To eternity!" echoed the ministers, before withdrawing one by one.
Alone in the vast hall, the king exhaled an ancient sigh, murmuring to himself:
"The new lords… we shall see what you are capable of."
To the unknowing, it might have seemed merely a king consulting with his retainers. In truth, even the lowest among them wielded strength at the royal pinnacle.
---
At that very moment, deep within the endless emerald forests of the Elven Empire, where no beast of Chaos dared set foot, another ruler convened her council.
Upon a throne woven from every flower known to the world, the Sacred Empress Silvana sat—her emerald hair and youthful, doll-like visage belying the ancient power within her. Before her, tall elven maidens knelt on one knee, heads bowed in reverence.
"My children," her sweet, childish voice rang out, "the damned will of Chaos has begun another round of its foolish games!"
Few in existence dared curse the will of Chaos aloud. Yet Silvana, the eternal Empress, did so without hesitation—and without consequence.
"Because of this blind will, we must act first. I have sensed many newborn elves among the summoned lords. After seven days, bring them to us. Next, sow the Seeds of Nature across the new lands. Though the taint of Chaos will weaken them, some will endure, nourished by the World Tree. As for the filthy orcs, the fragile humans, and those wretched insect swarms… well—come up with a plan to deal with them. What matters most is that we, the elves, emerge victorious!"
She counted on her dainty fingers as she spoke, then puffed her cheeks in frustration when she lost track. In the end, she waved the matter off, leaving the details to her followers. Her tiny fists clenched with mock ferocity—adorably, yet radiating an aura that brooked no dissent.
"Yes, Your Sacred Majesty!" the elves replied as one, their devotion absolute.
To outsiders, Silvana might seem like a frivolous, childish queen. But the rulers of the world knew better. They remembered the whispered warnings of their ancestors—of the Empress of Thorns, the Undying One, the Embodiment of the World Tree. Beneath her doll-like facade lurked a predator that had witnessed civilizations rise and fall, countless times over.
Silvana gave a final nod. "Go now, my children. Let the roots of the World Tree guide us."
"May its roots lead us!"
---
Elsewhere, in a great military tent, the leaders of the four strongest Orc tribes shouted and cursed, their voices rising in violent debate. The tent shook with their rage, until finally their furious roars gave way to unified war cries. Whatever plans they had forged remained known only to them.
---
Far beneath the earth, in the crawling domain of the Insectoids, a cavern stretched endlessly, littered with bones of men, elves, and beasts alike. Countless eggs pulsed like beating hearts, filling the darkness.
Upon a throne of glistening corpses sprawled the grotesque form of the Insectoid Broodmother. After an age of slumber, her slimy antennae twitched, and a screeching cry echoed.
The sound alone stirred billions of insectoids into motion, a horrifying tide of endless forms that devoured and destroyed all in their path.
---
With the will of Chaos marking the dawn of a new Cycle, empires and ancient powers alike began to stir.
Meanwhile, the summoned lords still believed themselves the story's protagonists… never realizing that before these true rulers of the world, they were less than dust upon the wind.
At least, for now…
---
📖 End of Chapter 14