Suddenly, they buckled. Waves of Cursed Villagers surged forward like a tide of misery—weapons drawn, eyes hollow, their movements jerky and puppet-like. But behind them was the true threat.
Portals tore open in the thin air—dark, jagged spirals that screamed as they defied reality. From these rifts, the Black Order emerged. Clad in obsidian cloaks that seemed to drink the light, their blades gleamed with unnatural violet energy. A suffocating aura of shadow clung to their forms as they advanced with terrifying speed.
Jamih turned toward Mowj. The boy stood in the center of the square, trembling, clutching the pulsing Iron Box against his chest.
Their eyes met—no words were needed.
Jamih gripped his crimson-gemmed sword and turned to Lidra and Qaws.
"Now."
He charged.
His blade flashed through the air, a blur of orange fire. He carved through the first wave of Black Order agents with brutal precision. Sparks flew as steel met dark magic. Shadows scattered. The ground trembled beneath each strike of his boots.
Lainas raised his sword, his voice booming over the din.
"Men of Silva! For the soul of our world!"
He turned to the Assassins stationed on the walls.
"Cast your nets! Do not strike the villagers—they are victims, not enemies!"
Lothar watched from the flank, his eyes narrowing. He saw the assassins move with practiced grace, throwing weighted nets to ensnare the Cursed Villagers, trapping them without drawing blood.
"Impressive," Lothar muttered.
He hurled his own enchanted cutlass. It spun through the air, glowing with blue mana, and obliterated four Black Order agents in a single, explosive blast before returning to his hand.
"So these are your men, Jamih?" Lothar shouted over the noise. "I didn't expect such discipline from cutthroats."
Jamih didn't look back as he parried a heavy blow.
"You are not here to judge them, Captain. You are here to remember why you came."
Jamih slammed his blade into the earth.
A shockwave ripped through the sand, knocking back a dozen enemies.
Above them, Silva’s sky began to darken unnaturally. The stars dimmed, choked by the rising magic. The Green Comet reappeared, slicing through the heavens like a jagged emerald scar as night descended instantly.
Qaws scanned the horizon, his daggers ready.
Lidra gripped her bow, her eyes sharp.
"Stay here, Qaws. Guard the boy. I’ll cover you from the high ground."
"Be careful," Qaws said, a flicker of worry in his voice.
Lidra sprinted toward the central building, climbing swiftly to the rooftop to rain arrows on the enemy rear.
Meanwhile, Mowj trembled violently. The Corrupted Heart inside the box beat faster—its rhythm erratic, dangerous, syncing with the chaos of the battle.
"The patients!" one of the healers shouted from the infirmary tent. "They are convulsing! The Heart is resonating with their sickness! We are casting calming spells, but it’s not enough!"
Qaws nodded, his face grim.
"You heard him! I need five volunteers—now!"
Five fighters broke from the defensive formation and rushed to assist the healers, pinning down the thrashing patients.
The battle raged on. Steel rang against steel. Magic flared in bursts of orange, blue, and green. The portals continued to open and close, unleashing fresh waves of enemies without pause.
Darkness spread across the battlefield. The night welcomed the chaos. Silva’s sky turned obsidian, the stars flickering faintly as if afraid to watch. The Green Comet burned brighter, casting an eerie, sickly glow over the carnage.
Jamih fought like a tempest—his strikes wild, relentless, primal. He was a whirlwind of fire and steel, holding the main gate almost single-handedly.
Assassins and Guards worked in tandem, setting traps, striking from shadows, and pulling wounded allies to safety.
But the sheer numbers were overwhelming.
Lothar’s sailors fired relentlessly, their magical cannons echoing across the valley. But as the Cursed Villagers pressed closer, threatening to overrun his position, Lothar’s patience snapped.
He raised his arm, a swirling blue aura gathering around his weapon. He aimed not at the Black Order, but at a dense group of advancing villagers.
"Tidal Blast!"
A beam of concentrated blue magic erupted from his weapon. It struck the mob, not stunning them, but disintegrating them. Bodies turned to ash in seconds.
Lainas screamed, watching his people vanish.
"LOTHAR! Are you insane?! They are innocent—under control!"
Lothar reloaded, his eyes cold and devoid of remorse.
"There are priorities, Lainas. I won't let them breach the line and harm the boy."
Lainas fought his way toward the Captain, shoving sailors aside.
"If Mowj sees what you have done, he will reject everything you stand for! This battle is about saving them—not slaughtering them like cattle!"
Jamih turned from the front line, seeing the ash, fury vibrating in his voice.
"Lothar! Don't break the pact you made with him!"
Lothar snarled, firing another shot that took the head off a Black Order agent.
"No one tells me what to do, Assassin. I act for the greater good. Can't you see? Our men are falling back! Endless waves of enemies—and we are hesitating because of these puppets! This strategy is costing us lives!"
"They lives!" Lainas roared.
The argument threatened to fracture the defense. The Black Order surged forward, sensing the discord.
Jamih slammed his blade into the sand again, pouring every ounce of his mana into the steel.
"SILA!"
A massive shockwave burst from the earth, far larger than before. His sword glowed with blinding orange light. Five Black Order agents were hurled backward, their bodies crashing into the dunes with bone-shattering force.
The battlefield paused—just for a breath—silenced by the sheer power of the Assassin Commander.
Jamih stood amidst the dust, his eyes burning like coals.
"Hold the line," Jamih growled, his voice low but audible to everyone. "Or I will clear it myself."
The Siege of Lajira — Arrows of Judgment, Blades of Pride
From the high vantage point of Lajira’s central hall, Lidra unleashed a volley of enchanted arrows. Each one streaked through the night sky like a miniature comet, trailing emerald light before exploding into radiant bursts that scattered the advancing invaders.
She scanned the battlefield below, her hawk-like gaze narrowing as she spotted Jamih and Lothar locked in a heated exchange amidst the carnage.
Drawing another arrow, this one glowing with a soft white aura, she whispered to herself.
"What is happening down there? This is no time for debate."
She loosed the shot toward a group of Cursed Villagers surging toward the east gate. The arrow struck the ground in their midst, releasing a ripple of sleep magic that dropped them gently to the sand, unconscious but unharmed.
The Inner Circle
Below, Qaws unsheathed both daggers—each blade embedded with a glowing emerald core that hummed with kinetic energy. He saw a cluster of Black Order agents slipping through the fray, moving like smoke, exploiting the distraction caused by the Commanders' argument.
"They are heading for Mowj..."
Without hesitation, Qaws leapt forward, a blur of motion.
"Protect the boy!" he roared.
Assassins and Village Guards rallied to him. They clashed with the intruders in a flurry of sparks and shadows.
From above, Lidra fired three rapid green arrows. Each found its mark, staggering the attackers just long enough for Qaws to close the distance and finish them with swift, lethal strikes to the throat.
In the center of the defensive ring, Mowj trembled.
Blood trickled from his nose, dripping onto his tunic. His hands clutched the Iron Box, which was now pulsing violently, fighting his purification spell.
Qaws turned, breathless.
"Mowj! Are you alright?"
Mowj’s voice was strained, his breath shallow and ragged.
"I’m fine... I just need... more time..."
Qaws nodded grimly. He turned back to the fight, engaging two more Black Order agents with brutal efficiency.
"Another wave of villagers!" Qaws shouted to his squad. "Nets—now!"
But before the nets could be cast, a blast of high-pressure blue magic erupted from the flank.
Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
BOOM.
The group of Cursed Villagers was obliterated in an instant—reduced to mist and ash by one of Lothar’s sailors.
Qaws froze, fury spiking in his chest. Lidra, watching from above, scanned for the source.
"What was that?!" she shouted down. "We are supposed to be saving them!"
Qaws didn't shout. He moved.
He weaved through the melee, cutting down a Black Order agent who stood in his way, and reached the Leonithran shooter from behind. With a fluid motion, he kicked the man’s legs out and bound his wrists with wire before he hit the ground.
"You dare bind me?!" the sailor spat, struggling. "We are the proud fleet of Leonithra! You insolent thief—"
A warrior from the Luminous Tree stepped forward, placing the tip of his spear against the sailor’s chest.
"Silence, fool," the warrior hissed. "You killed those we swore to protect. Speak again, and I will carve your tongue from your mouth."
Qaws turned back to the fight without a word, shielding Mowj with unwavering focus.
The Front Lines
Jamih hurled a Black Order agent aside with one hand and turned on Lothar, his patience gone.
"You..." Jamih growled, stepping into the Captain's personal space. "I don't care what you think of us. I don't care about your strategy. We agreed on a plan."
Lothar wiped black blood from his cutlass, sneering.
"We don't need Leonithra’s noble theatrics here," Jamih continued, his voice cutting through the noise of battle. "The boy gave you terms. You accepted them. If you have even a shred of honor beneath those silks, you will uphold that pact."
Lothar’s face twisted with rage.
"Listen, old man! I won't be insulted—nor will my people or our culture! I don't know what you are implying, but if this is a threat, don't expect me to take it lightly."
Jamih’s eyes were cold as ice.
"I am not repeating myself. If you have any honor at all, respect your word to the boy. Stop killing the innocent."
Lothar laughed bitterly.
"Honor? From ? A thief? An assassin?"
He turned away, raising his weapon.
"Let me show you the true measure of Leonithra’s pride."
Lothar surged forward, unleashing a barrage of magical strikes that decimated a line of Black Order knights, pointedly ignoring the villagers this time.
Lainas fought his way to Jamih’s side, cutting down an attacker with a precise blow.
"I think that was his way of saying 'yes'..." Lainas panted. "With arrogance."
Jamih didn't smile. He watched Lothar’s back.
"No. He doesn't agree. He is just competing."
Jamih parried a strike from the shadows.
"We need to watch him, Lainas."
Lainas nodded. "Then we fight. We endure his pride—until Mowj finishes what he started."
Jamih’s eyes turned toward the center of the village, where the green light flickered against the darkness.
"Yes... Mowj..."
Author note: if you want dive? you may try reading while listening to it?
·
The Fall of Light — Azalor’s Arrival
A tear in reality shredded the air directly in front of Qaws.
It wasn't a portal; it was a wound. From the bleeding darkness, Azalor emerged—not running, but walking with the terrifying slowness of inevitable death. Flanking him were two towering Knights clad in obsidian armor, their jagged greatswords dragging furrows in the earth. The steel hissed, forged from cursed metal that drank the light.
Azalor’s laughter was a low rumble that vibrated in the chest of every soldier on the field.
"So..." Azalor purred, his eyes locking onto the trembling healer. "This is the troublesome child. And this is his troublesome power."
Qaws stepped back, placing himself between the Sorcerer and the boy. His twin daggers glowed red, the emerald cores shifting hue to match the bloodlust in the air.
Above them, the Green Comet blazed, casting a sickly, verdant light across Silva’s blackened sky. The stars dimmed in deference. Cold winds howled through the valley, carrying the scent of ozone and grave dirt.
From the rooftop, Ledra’s breath hitched.
"Impossible..." she whispered. "He is here personally?"
She didn't hesitate. She fired a volley of enchanted arrows, each wrapped in a spiraling green aura. They screamed through the air—
The Obsidian Knights raised their massive shields with unnatural speed. The arrows didn't just deflect; they shattered into dust upon contact.
Azalor looked up at the roof, smirking.
"Foolish girl... You arrive now? And you—" he turned his gaze back to Qaws, "—you will lose again, just like you did at the Luminous Tree. You were lucky then. Luck has run out."
Qaws snarled, crouching low.
"Your magic reeks worse than your curse, Azalor."
Azalor chuckled. "Does it?"
He slammed his staff into the ground.
BOOM.
A wave of black energy surged outward, wrapping his body in a suffocating violet aura.
"I won't allow you to interfere with my work."
Qaws charged.
He moved like a blur, clashing with the Obsidian Knights. Assassins followed him into the fray, their blades flashing in the dark. But the Knights were brutal—walking fortresses. Each swing of their greatswords was a death sentence that shattered stone and bone alike. Qaws dodged, leapt, and struck with precision, aiming for the joints in the armor, engaging one of the dark giants in a furious duel of speed versus power.
On the roof, Ledra fired again. Her arrows sliced through the air toward Azalor’s exposed head.
He dodged with a tilt of his neck, then raised his hand to cast a counter-spell.
But Ledra was faster. One of her arrows burst in mid-air like a star, releasing a blinding beam of concentrated green light. Azalor was forced to block it with his bare hand, his palm smoking.
He glared at her, his composure cracking.
"You are becoming a nuisance..."
He raised his hand toward the roof—dark energy gathering at his fingertips.
A village guard intercepted him, rushing Azalor with a spear.
"For Silva!"
Azalor didn't even look. "Pitiful."
He flicked his wrist, hurling a violet orb. It struck the guard, dissolving him into mist instantly.
Taking advantage of the distraction, Ledra’s next arrow grazed Azalor’s cheek. A thin line of black blood trickled down his pale skin.
Azalor touched the wound, then looked at the blood. He growled, a sound like shifting tectonic plates.
He slammed his staff down again.
"Shadow Domain."
A massive dome of impenetrable shadow erupted from the ground, trapping Mowj, Qaws, the Assassins, and Azalor inside. The Obsidian Knights stepped into the perimeter, sealing the cage.
On the roof, Ledra drew her jeweled blade, her eyes blazing.
"I won't let you touch him!"
She turned toward the main gates. Black Order agents were pouring in endlessly. Jamih and Lainas were fighting back-to-back, holding the line against a tidal wave of enemies.
But something was wrong.
Ledra narrowed her eyes, scanning the chaos.
"Why aren't the Leonithran soldiers fighting? Where is Lothar?"
The white-clad sailors were holding defensive positions, but they weren't advancing. They were watching.
She looked back at the dome, where Mowj was trapped.
"No. Focus, Ledra. He needs you ."
She held her blade out. It pulsed, releasing a beam of pure green light that struck the top of Azalor’s dome, trying to drill through the magic.
Inside the dome, the air was heavy and toxic.
Qaws fought valiantly, bloodied but unyielding. His assassins and the Luminous Tree warriors were wounded, their strength fading under the oppressive aura of the sorcerer.
Qaws blocked a heavy strike from a Black Knight, his knees buckling under the weight.
"At this rate..." Qaws gasped, "we won't be able to protect him. We need the Commander. We need support! But this dome... it’s cutting us off!"
Above, Ledra’s beam intensified. Cracks began to spiderweb across the surface of the shadow dome.
Azalor turned his gaze upward.
"She must die. She is disrupting everything."
Suddenly, Mowj cried out.
"It’s close! It’s almost ready!"
His voice rang with sudden, piercing hope, cutting through the noise of battle. Everyone heard it—Ledra, Qaws, Jamih, Lainas. Even the wind seemed to pause.
The Green Comet flared violently overhead, answering the boy's call.
Lainas shouted from the gate. "HOLD THE LINE! HE IS DOING IT!"
Jamih scanned the battlefield, frantically looking for his ally. "Where is that bastard Lothar?!"
Inside the dome, Azalor raised a brow, gazing at the comet through the translucent shadow.
"Stubborn insects."
He struck the ground a third time. Dark energy surged into the Obsidian Knights, transforming them. Their armor twisted, growing spikes, and their eyes burned with violet fire.
"Knights of Vaa... Destroy these fools."
The Corrupted Heart in Mowj's hands began to shift—its erratic rhythm slowed, its jagged shape softened. It pulsed gently, surrounded by a cleansing green aura.
Azalor slammed his staff once more, sending a psychic shockwave specifically toward the roof.
Ledra’s beam faltered.
She collapsed, clutching her chest.
"Ledra!" Qaws screamed, seeing her fall from the corner of his eye.
He lunged toward Azalor—desperate to break the cast—but his strike was blocked by the massive shield of a Vaa Knight. He was thrown back.
On the roof, Ledra coughed, and it was wet with blood.
Her neck throbbed with a searing, familiar pain. The cursed symbols left by Dais weeks ago began to glow faintly beneath her skin.
She whispered, her vision blurring, her voice trembling with realization.
"Damn it... It’s the curse... That bastard Dais..."
The Shattering of Light - The Fall of the Comet
Azalor laughed softly from inside his perimeter.
"Die, you nuisance. That blow should have crushed your heart instantly... But it seems the boy’s protection softened its edge."
He gestured toward Mowj, who remained focused, oblivious to the carnage.
"No more interruptions."
Azalor struck again—summoning a Dome of Shadow that enveloped Qaws, Mowj, and the remaining fighters in the square. The sky vanished. The world outside was sealed off.
Outside the dome, Jamih fought on. He was a whirlwind of orange fire, hurling Black Order agents into the air with sweeping strikes. His blade carved through the night, his fury unmatched, but he could not see inside the sphere.
On the roof, Lidra lay motionless, her blood staining the clay tiles. Through the haze of pain, she looked down at the Leonithran line.
The sailors stood still. Their weapons were drawn, but they weren't firing at the enemy anymore. They were aiming at the dome.
Her voice was a broken whisper.
"Jamih... It’s a trap..."
She closed her eyes, darkness taking her.
Inside the Dome
Qaws moved faster than thought. He ducked under a massive greatsword, slid between the Knight’s legs, and struck upward.
His emerald-infused dagger found the gap in the armor, slicing through the neck of the dark giant. The Knight crumbled into dust.
Qaws stood, bleeding from a dozen cuts, surrounded by shadows.
"I’ve taken one down!" he shouted to the Assassins. "You handle the rest—I will deal with the Sorcerer!"
Azalor smirked, unbothered.
"You killed him? From behind, of course. Typical of a rat in the dark."
Qaws’s daggers pulsed red. He didn't speak. He lunged.
Azalor conjured a spiked violet shield, deflecting the blow with a metallic clang.
Qaws attacked again, relentless, a barrage of steel.
"Rat?" Qaws hissed, ducking a blast of magic. "We are your nightmares, Sorcerer."
He feinted left, dropped low, and slashed upward.
Azalor’s eyes narrowed. "Damn you..."
Qaws’s blade grazed Azalor’s neck—a thin line of blood spilled.
"End the spell," Qaws said coldly, his blade pressed to the Sorcerer's throat. "Now."
Azalor stared at him, then smiled.
"I underestimated you..."
He struck the ground with his heel.
The Shadow Dome dissolved into mist.
The outside world rushed back in. Jamih was fighting through waves of enemies, his men working in unison—some casting nets over villagers, others clashing with invaders.
Above, the Green Comet flared, illuminating Silva’s darkness with a blinding brilliance.
Jamih’s left eye twitched. The hair on his neck stood up.
"No..."
He turned toward Mowj.
Mowj’s voice rang out, radiant and full of triumph. The Heart in his hands was glowing pure white.
"It’s close! I’m almost done—"
A beam of blue magic shot through the air. It didn't come from the Black Order. It came from the Leonithran line.
It struck Mowj square in the chest.
The impact lifted the boy off the ground.
Blood splattered across the sand, red mixing with the green light.
"Mowj!" Qaws screamed.
Azalor seized the moment. He placed a hand on Qaws’s chest and unleashed a point-blank blast of violet flame—hurling the assassin backward into the rubble.
Azalor knelt, lifting the purified Heart from the ground where it had fallen.
Mowj lay broken, a hole in his chest, blood pooling beneath him. The light in his eyes was fading.
Jamih roared, a sound of pure, animalistic grief.
"LAINAS!"
"NOW!" Lainas shouted, his voice cracking.
The remaining Suhail Battalions surged forward from the shadows, casting purification spells that swept through the Cursed Villagers, knocking them all unconscious to clear the field.
Jamih’s voice thundered across the battlefield, terrifying in its intensity.
"SEIZE THE LEONITHRAN SOLDIERS! IF THEY RESIST—KILL THEM ALL!"
Lothar stood amidst his men, smoke rising from his weapon. He smiled coldly.
Lainas hesitated, eyes wide with shock. "This was meant to happen after victory... After Mowj finished the ritual..."
"THEY KILLED HIM!" Jamih screamed, charging toward the center.
Azalor laughed, clutching the Heart. He began to fade into smoke.
"SILA!" Jamih cried, launching a wave of fire at the Sorcerer.
A Vaa Knight stepped in the way, taking the blast. The Knight struck Jamih’s shoulder—armor crunched, blood spilled.
"Commander!" the Assassins shouted.
Jamih didn't stop. He rose, his blade glowing a blinding orange. The crimson gemstones pulsed to the rhythm of his rage.
He clashed with the Knight, shattering its cursed armor and cleaving the giant in two with a single, desperate strike.
He reached Mowj’s body.
Azalor’s voice echoed faintly from the wind as he vanished.
Jamih knelt, dropping his sword. He lifted Mowj into his arms. The boy was small, so light.
"Mowj... look at me. Breathe."
Blood dripped onto the sand, turning the grey ash to mud.
Above them, the Green Comet flickered once, twice... and then its light died.
Silva’s sky turned pitch black.
The Dying Comet (Mowj’s Fall)