– The Resistance. –

During the long and bloody wars of conquest, a relentless tug-of-war had raged between the Empire and the small nations. Sometimes, the Empire would lead massive armies to crush the alliances of medium and small kingdoms. Other times, a brilliant individual would rise, gathering the scattered soldiers of fallen nations, like grains of sand, and build a new country.

But glory was always fleeting.

The Empire held the eastern front with obsessive resolve, determined to crush the very spirit of the fallen soldiers.

“When the spirit dies, everything is lost.”

After conquering the land, the Empire built fortresses to block the Resistance. And the Resistance, in turn, used those very fortresses, once imperial strongholds,        as bastions for their fight for independence. A never-ending cycle of seizing and being seized.

Many years passed, hatred for the Empire that had destroyed their homelands grew deep. The helplessness … The gnawing anger. And always lingering in their hearts …doubt, a fear that maybe all of it was meaningless.

That even this long, monotonous war might be part of the Empire’s design. Beyond the eastern front, the nations that had formed and dissolved in countless combinations lent their support to the Resistance. But only so they could protect their own safety, with the Resistance’s blood.

In this hellish war of attrition, in one ravine on the eastern front, 

“The prince! The prince has appeared at the Nameless Fortress!”

“The imperial banner is flying over the Nameless Fortress!”

“A prince is in that fortress and has raised the royal banner!”

The news hit like a thunderclap.

Not a massive stronghold, but a small, numbered fortress. And yet the prince himself was there, along with the imperial flag. It was an unprecedented sight, and the word spread rapidly through the mouths of hundreds of Resistance fighters who had seen it with their own eyes.

The Empire weren’t the only ones who used crystal orbs. The Resistance, who had been capturing nearby fortresses, heard the news, and moved as one.

A golden opportunity, some even believed it to be a divine gift. Though no one could say who was behind it, the commanders of nearby fortresses and key officers had recently been assassinated one after another.

Thanks to that, the Resistance had swiftly taken several fortresses and reorganized their weapons and troops. The imperial stragglers were scattered.                      While the imperials were busy wasting time trying to recover their losses.              The Resistance abandoned the fortresses they had seized, and marched on the one where the prince had taken position.

If they could just reach that fortress, 

“What can he possibly accomplish, holed up in such a small place?”

“Exactly! If we capture the prince and take the imperial flag, we could wring a self-governing territory out of it!”

“Maybe even secure independence!”

In the minds of the Resistance, dreams bloomed like flowers. They would use the prince and the banner as hostages, bargaining chips. No major bloodshed, huge gains. But then, a massive man among them, his entire face marred by a long, jagged scar, cut through the excitement like a blade through fog.

“Don’t spew that nonsense.”

He swept his gaze around, a warning thick in his voice.

“We’ll cut off the prince’s head and tear the imperial flag into shreds.”

“Hey … if you do that, the entire Empire will sweep through the East!”

“You cowards. Are you seriously scared of the Empire? If your plan is to spare the enemy out of fear, get lost. Now.”

His chilling words made many avert their eyes.

“Were you seriously planning to build a country with a handful of puny fortresses? Self-rule? What a joke. In a few years, they’ll take it all back anyway. And if you think those bastards will honor any agreement, then your brains must be no better than slime.”

Some among them flinched, their expressions souring. But the man raised his voice even louder …

“I … !”

“Thud!”,  he slammed his axe into the ground.

“I will cut off the prince’s head and hang it from the fortress walls! I’ll wrap his corpse in the shredded banner! And I’ll shout to every soul who has spent their lives fighting in the shadows of forests and plains, and to their children, who will inherit this cursed war!”

His eyes were filled with fervor and madness.

“Look at this! Even the Empire’s royal blood is human! Just as the flag can be torn, their glory will one day be dragged through the mud! So gather! Take up arms! If we stand together, we can strike the Empire down!”

From the depths of his scarred chest poured raw conviction. This man was different from the rest. His vision was greater …Darker.

“So if you’re thinking of spouting cowardly nonsense … shut your mouths. Our ancestors lie in deep graves, they’re listening.”

“······.”

“There can be no coexistence between us and the Empire.”

With their leader’s final declaration, the crowd fell silent. 

News spread, and the soldiers of ruined nations began to gather. Time was short, according to every trickle of intel. Somehow, scattered stragglers had started pouring into the Nameless Fortress. Even the reclusive Duke of the northeast, normally as silent as a turtle hiding in its shell, was on the move.

Kill the prince before they all arrive. Thus, the war began.

“Onto the walls! If we scale the fortress walls, we win!”

“Shields overhead! Hold the line! They won’t have many arrows!”

Based on their accumulated experience, they estimated the fortress’s strength.

They thought it would be easy to break through.

But, 

“Hold the line! Even if you die, block them!”

“Endure! Everyone, hold your ground!”

The fortress soldiers held out desperately.

Perhaps because of the prince and the imperial banner, they fought with terrifying resolve. It was almost grotesque, and, strangely enough, there were more soldiers inside than expected. 

They had scouted every route, how had they arrived? Had Aziel brought them?

“What the hell? When did they all get here?”

From that moment, unease began to creep in. A gnawing sensation, like prey caught in a snare. But it was too late to retreat now. On the fortress wall, blood sprayed and screams echoed.

Then… He appeared.

A man in radiant silver greaves, wielding an oddly large greatsword.                        He said nothing … Did nothing.

Yet all eyes, from those climbing the walls to those giving orders, turned to him. There, in the center of the savage battlefield, his silver armor gleamed, and Aziel’s platinum hair fluttered in pristine waves.

What was it?

The imperial soldiers waited for Aziel’s command. The enemy soldiers looked upon his rage.

“Thud.”

Aziel simply stood, tall and motionless, at the highest point of the wall, his sword resting beside him, as though this weren’t a battlefield at all, as though he were merely a general watching the field below. Then, slowly, he lowered his crimson eyes, casting a cold, indifferent gaze over the incoming horde, like one observing insects. And at the corner of his lips …“A smile?”

Was he… smiling? In the middle of all this?

“Kill him! The prince has appeared … kill him now!”

“Archers! Shoot! Fire now!”

“Throw the spears! Hook the prince! Kill him!”

Driven into a frenzy by that smile, the soldiers of the fallen nations lunged at him.

“Protect him! Protect His Highness!”

“What are you waiting for?! Bring the shields!”

But, 

“I don’t need shields. Go. Kill the enemy.”

Aziel did not ask for protection. He simply stood, his lips curled in faint amusement, looking down at his foes with serene confidence. 

What gave him the gall to stand like that?

If he died, everything would collapse. And yet that overwhelming confidence …        It unsettled the enemy, and elevated his allies.

As Aziel stood atop the wall, the minds of everyone present stirred in chaos. His very presence commanded the battlefield. The Resistance soldiers tried to shake off their unease… Then, 

“BWOOOOO!”

“Reinforcements!”

“Behind us! Enemy troops approaching from the rear!”

Indeed. From behind the Resistance, troops led by Sol and Andre appeared.            A moment when both their hopes and their worst fears became reality.

[Analyzing left wall fate: chaotic melee shifts to narrow defense.]

[Analyzing right wall fate: defense becomes secure.]

[Investing divergence points into minor fate: Luck. Near-death encounters now protect you. No arrow targeting you shall hit.]

The moment Aziel stepped onto the ramparts, the balance shifted. Even amid the roars, the screams, the stench of blood, he did not waver. He stared the enemy down, unflinching. No arrow touched him. The arrows could not breach his fate.   That alone shook the enemy, and bolstered his troops. With royal nobility and haughty pride, he dominated the battlefield without lifting a finger. Of course, it would be even more effective if their fear turned to reality. And when the soldiers under Sol and Andre’s command emerged from the rear …

[Analyzing location fate: defense shifts to overwhelming victory.]

[Minor fates of total defeat, death, disgrace, and collapse have been consumed. You have acquired massive divergence and mysticism points.]

[Minor fate: Strategy has increased in magnitude. New attribute acquired , False Grandeur.]

The shards of fate Aziel had prepared all fell into place.

A fortress unyielding in front of them, imperial troops surging from behind, the Resistance fighters’ faces filled with fear and confusion. At the vanguard of the ambush.

“Sol is here!”

“Your Highness! We’ve arrived!”