Syra sat perched on the edge of a nearby balcony. She tossed a throwing knife in the air and caught the handle flawlessly.

"They need to learn how to fight alongside fire and water," Syra commented. She pointed her blade toward the center ring. "Because those two are going to level the battlefield if they lose control."

Out in the main ring, Krax and Gulag escalated their sparring match. Krax gripped his greataxe tightly and charged forward. He inverted the gravity well around his own body, allowing his massive frame to glide across the courtyard with terrifying speed.

Gulag slammed both fists into the tiles. She transmuted the surrounding architecture entirely. Ten massive pillars of black glass shot upward from the floor, attempting to box Krax into a confined space.

Krax bypassed the trap completely. He swung his weapon horizontally, projecting a localized singularity from the blade. The invisible force ripped the glass pillars from their foundations and launched the debris across the courtyard.

One of the massive glass chunks sailed far past the sparring ring. It slammed directly into the grand colonnade lining the edge of the palace, obliterating a beautifully carved archway in an explosion of dust and rubble.

The entire courtyard fell utterly silent. The cheering troops stopped their mock battles immediately to stare at the ruined architecture.

Iron-Scale pushed off the pillar. He glared at the two commanders standing amidst the wreckage.

"You just destroyed the capital of the god hosting us," Iron-Scale stated. His voice carried across the silent plaza.

Krax rubbed the back of his neck. He looked at the ruined archway, suddenly realizing the extent of the collateral damage. Gulag whistled innocently and quickly smoothed the damaged floor tiles back into uniform sand.

Ignisar walked across the golden courtyard toward the pulverized archway. Krax lowered his greataxe, anticipating a furious reprimand from the desert deity for destroying the architecture. Instead, a booming laugh echoed across the training grounds.

"A magnificent strike!" Ignisar declared. He waved a hand draped in tattered golden silks toward the wreckage. The scattered debris immediately liquefied into flowing sand, sweeping upward to reconstruct the flawless archway in a matter of seconds. "Do not worry about the stone. I can mold this entire city in my sleep."

Iron-Scale uncrossed his arms and stepped away from the pillar.

"We appreciate your hospitality," Iron-Scale said. "But we are here to plan an invasion, and my commanders need to focus."

Ignisar stopped laughing. The flames burning in his eye sockets flared brightly. "You are entirely correct. The time for games is over. Gather your core strategists and follow me to the inner sanctum. We need to discuss the border."

Nyxara waited beside a massive table carved from solid black volcanic rock. Gulag, Syra, and Krax followed Iron-Scale into the dimly lit chamber and surrounded the table.

Ignisar spread his hands over the dark surface. A highly detailed, three-dimensional illusion of the Third Continent’s western edge materialized across the stone.

The projection detailed a vast, treacherous landmass connecting their current desert directly to the fortified borders of Aethelgard.

"This is the Sovereign’s Path," Ignisar explained, pointing to the rocky expanse. "It is the only physical route connecting our lands to the Fourth Continent. King Voranthar knows you must cross this exact location."

Krax leaned over the map. "A simple choke point. We just march the vanguard straight through and crush whatever blocks the way."

Nyxara shook her head. "You misunderstand the threat. Aethelgard transformed the Sovereign’s Path into a geographical nightmare."

The projection zoomed in on the massive land bridge. The illusionary terrain fractured into thousands of floating stone fragments swirling around a colossal, glowing citadel.

"The Radiant Gate," Ignisar stated. "It is a fortress anchored within a localized spatial anomaly. The gravity shifts violently every hour. The winds carry glass shards moving fast enough to flay a man to the bone. Voranthar stationed his elite royal guard within the citadel to manually control the environmental hazards."

Syra tapped her fingers against the edge of the table. "An environmental meat grinder. If we march six hundred thousand troops into a fluctuating gravity storm, the casualties will be catastrophic."

Up in the orbital sanctuary, Red remained seated on his obsidian throne. He watched the topographical data sync with his own planetary grid.

’Voranthar weaponized the geography itself,’ Red calculated, swiping a finger across his console to isolate the fortress’s energy signature. ’He wants me to bleed my army dry just knocking on his front door.’

Red leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees. He tapped the communication rune on his armrest to establish a telepathic link with his lead commander.

’Iron-Scale,’ Red projected. ’We do not play by his rules. We do not walk through the meat grinder. We go under it.’

Down in the sanctum, Iron-Scale looked up from the glowing map. He tapped his chest plate twice to acknowledge the divine command.

"The Sovereign has spoken," Iron-Scale announced to the room. "We bypass the anomaly."

Gulag crossed her arms. "The geography is completely locked down. How do we bypass a storm of that magnitude?"

"We ignore the surface entirely," Iron-Scale decided, looking directly at the earth manipulator.

Gulag grinned, her amber core flaring brightly within her chest. She slammed her knuckles together. "I understand. I can carve a highway straight through the foundational bedrock. Let Voranthar keep his storm."

Iron-Scale looked at the glowing illusion of the Radiant Gate. He appreciated the direct approach, but a severe strategic flaw lingered in the background.

"The tunnel secures our crossing," Iron-Scale agreed. He tapped a claw against the sprawling holographic desert behind the land bridge. "However, marching six hundred thousand troops underground leaves our supply lines completely exposed on the surface. Aethelgard still operates dozens of strongholds, mobile fortresses, and hidden outposts across this continent."

Krax crossed his massive arms. "You want to sweep the entire desert before we cross the border."

"We cannot leave a single enemy at our backs," Iron-Scale confirmed.

He stepped away from the table and walked toward the grand balcony overlooking the Vanguard encampment. He projected his voice to echo across the sprawling courtyards, summoning the elite officers and native war-chiefs to the inner sanctum.

Within minutes, the massive stone chamber filled with Kingdom Knights, Troglodyte shock-troop captains, and the desert mystics.

Iron-Scale returned to the stolen cartographic map. He unrolled the parchment over the illusionary table, revealing the exact coordinates of every remaining Aethelgard installation.