The royal map room of Aethelgard bathed the surrounding faces in a cold blue glow. King Voranthar leaned over the massive crystalline table. Dozens of ministers, high lords, and royal mages stood around the perimeter to watch the holographic projection of the Third Continent.

Two radiant golden beacons blinked steadily on the eastern edge of the map. They represented Chris and Megan.

"They cornered the Vanguard," a royal mage reported, dragging a finger across a secondary rune plate. "The enemy force is trapped in the eastern desert basin."

Voranthar nodded once. He watched the golden beacons pulse. The invasion of the Second Continent had been a complete military disaster, but the Heralds would fix the momentum here.

Without warning, the two golden lights flickered wildly. They shrank into pinpricks of dull grey and vanished from the crystal map entirely.

The room fell completely silent.

A secondary rune plate on the far wall violently shattered. The lead Royal Mage stumbled backward. He stared at the remaining glass shards covering the stone floor.

"Their mana cores are gone," the mage yelled. "The divine tethers severed instantly!"

Minister Lane slammed his fist onto the crystal table. "Gone? They wielded absolute spatial and light authority! How does an army of beasts neutralize two Heralds?"

"The same way they took the Second Continent," Lord Wasop argued. He pointed a shaking finger at the map. "They slaughtered Admiral Vaelor and Boros. We have lost contact with Jason and Chloe. They marched straight through the eastern ports and butchered Ghizlan at the western shipyards. Now they are dismantling our outposts on the Third Continent!"

"We are losing our global foothold," another minister added, wiping sweat from his forehead. "If the Third Continent falls, the western desert opens entirely. They will enter directly to our lands."

Voranthar gripped the edge of the table. His knuckles turned white against the crystal. He watched a massive, terrifying spike of crimson energy suddenly bloom over the exact coordinates where Chris and Megan disappeared.

Voranthar knew the fail-safe had triggered, which meant the Radiant Monarch had executed them.

"Silence!" Voranthar bellowed. He drove the pommel of his sword against the floor to restore order. He looked directly at the lead mage. "Where are the others? Give me the status of the remaining Heralds."

"Tyler and Jessica are currently stationed at the southern naval fortress," the mage rapidly answered, scrolling through the remaining tethers. "Brandon and Ashley hold the central subterranean vaults. The others are guarding the capital."

Suddenly, the massive crystal chandelier above the table flared. The ambient light in the room shifted to a blinding, incandescent gold. The ministers dropped to their knees immediately. Voranthar lowered his head as a divine presence flooded the chamber.

A voice echoed from the very walls of the map room. The Radiant Monarch bypassed the high priests to speak directly to the King.

[ The eastern front is compromised. I executed the failures to paint the target, but the native deities intervened. The enemy survives. ]

"My Monarch," Voranthar spoke, keeping his eyes firmly on the floor. "The Vanguard advances toward our supply hubs. We need to deploy the remaining Heralds to crush them."

[ You will not send them individually. The enemy neutralizes isolated targets. Deploy Tyler, Jessica, Brandon, and Ashley to the southern fortress. Consolidate your firepower. Break this Vanguard before they reach the ocean. ]

The golden light faded from the room. The chandelier returned to its normal glow. Voranthar stood up and drew his sword.

"You heard the Monarch," the King ordered his generals. "Mobilize the four Heralds immediately. Send Brandon and Ashley to the southern fortress to reinforce the twins. We end this war on the Third Continent."

Meanwhile, Red tapped his fingers against the obsidian armrest. The holographic map of the Third Continent hovered before him, divided evenly between the allied desert and the fog-shrouded enemy territory.

He could order the Vanguard to cross the third directly to Aethelgard right now. He had the map and the momentum.

’I cannot risk the remaining twelve pairs of Heralds,’ Red calculated, staring at the glowing projection. ’Each pair holds a specific fragment of my soul. If they die in a chaotic siege before Glitch can extract their magic, those pieces are permanently lost.’

He also lacked critical intelligence regarding the absolute top of the Fourth Continent’s hierarchy. The Radiant Monarch sat at Rank 20, but Red knew firsthand how easily the system could be manipulated to hide true capabilities.

"He could be sandbagging his rank like me. If not, then that must mean that he was talented and seemingly a top player of the game. And... he is teaming up with three other gods and sharing the continent with them. I don’t know what rank they are, but the four of them must be close enough to not betray each other and play so well."

Red was not prepared to blind-drop his army into a four-on-one divine war against unknown Summit Warlords.

His greatest tactical advantages came from his territorial perks. Claiming land granted him absolute authority over the battlefield mechanics.

"Iron-Scale," Red spoke into the terminal. "Change of plans. We are not marching to the coast. We are claiming the eastern half of this continent."

Red wanted to systematically capture every Aethelgard stronghold, mobile fortress, and subterranean base scattered across the dunes. He would convert their stolen territory into Spiral domain step by step.

’Let them panic,’ Red thought. A cold smile formed on his face. ’While we annex their land, Voranthar will have no choice but to deploy his remaining forces to stop the bleeding. They will send more troops. They will send more Heralds. We will bleed their reserves dry right here in the desert.’

Down in the western dunes, Iron-Scale stood over the stolen Pre-Calamity cartographic engine. The crimson grid projected the locations of every enemy asset.

"Understood, Sovereign," Iron-Scale replied. He looked at Krax, Syra, and Gulag. "The invasion of the Fourth Continent is on hold. We are tearing out their roots here first."

Krax grinned, resting his greataxe against his shoulder. "A methodical slaughter. I like it."

Syra traced a claw over a massive cluster of crimson markers just fifty miles east of their current position. "There is a primary supply hub located inside a hollowed-out mesa. They use it to distribute water and arcane ammunition to the mobile fortresses."

"Then we take the water," Gulag stated, cracking her knuckles.

Iron-Scale picked up the cartographic engine and secured it to his belt. He turned to face the surviving infantry reforming their lines across the sand.

"We march east!" Iron-Scale commanded. "Leave no survivors in the outposts. We are turning this desert into a graveyard for Aethelgard."