The scrying table inside the Aethelgard throne room displayed a completely barren projection of the Third Continent. Voranthar stared at the crystalline surface.

Every single golden marker representing his desert fortresses, supply depots, and hidden bunkers had vanished overnight.

A bloodied scout knelt on the marble floor behind the throne. His armor bore deep scorch marks, and his breathing hitched with every exhale.

"They bypassed our garrisons to slaughter everyone inside," the scout reported, keeping his eyes glued to the floor tiles. "The western army collapsed the subterranean bunkers inward. Our water supplies turned to poison in a matter of hours."

Voranthar gripped the armrests of his gilded chair. His knuckles turned entirely white under the strain. He looked at the vast expanse of the holographic desert, realizing the enemy now held absolute control over the landmass leading directly to his borders.

’They are coming for the Sovereign’s Path,’ Voranthar thought, his jaw clenching tight enough to grind his teeth. ’He dismantled my entire occupation in a single day.’

"Summon the Royal Guard," Voranthar commanded, standing up from his throne. "Lock the gates of the lower districts. No citizen leaves the capital."

The scout looked up in confusion, but the King had already turned his back. Voranthar walked toward the concealed panel behind his throne and descended the spiral staircase into the absolute darkness beneath the castle.

Up on the surface, the armored Royal Guard marched into the crowded streets of Aethelgard’s outer rings. The soldiers drew their broadswords and raised their iron shields. They formed an impenetrable wall of steel, pushing the confused citizens toward the central plazas.

When the crowd grew too dense to move, the captain of the guard raised his hand. The soldiers advanced without a single word of warning. Blades flashed beneath the midday sun. Blood spilled across the cobblestones, rapidly filling the ancient drainage grooves carved into the city streets.

The people screamed and scrambled backward, trampling one another in a desperate bid to escape the slaughter. The Royal Guard simply tightened their formation.

They executed the King’s decree with absolute efficiency, butchering the outer districts to feed the hungry earth below.

Deep inside the subterranean vault, Voranthar knelt on the black floor. He watched crimson fluid seep through the ceiling cracks, dripping continuously onto the golden geometric rune blazing in the center of the room.

The disembodied voice vibrated through the bedrock.

[ THE TOLL IS PAID. THE LIVES OF YOUR PEOPLE NOURISH THE ROOTS OF THE OLD WORLD. ]

The floor violently split apart. The glowing rune shattered into thousands of floating fragments of light, revealing a massive metallic cylinder buried within the foundational stone.

Complex gears ground against one another while the ancient engine rose from its slumber. The metal casing burned with a searing white intensity, completely illuminating the dark vault.

Voranthar shielded his eyes from the glare. He stared at the weapon he had traded a hundred thousand lives to unlock.

Up in the orbital sanctuary, Red sat motionless on his throne. He watched the holographic projection of the global server suddenly flare with a blinding warning light.

A massive, hyper-condensed energy signature materialized directly beneath the Aethelgard capital. The sheer output of the anomaly warped the digital map, projecting a shockwave of corrupted data across the surrounding geography.

Red narrowed his eyes and tapped a series of runes on his armrest to isolate the signal. The telemetry returned absolute static. The system failed to categorize the eruption as divine magic, elemental shifting, or biological evolution.

’What exactly did he just turn on?’ Red analyzed, leaning forward to inspect the erratic spikes traversing the grid. ’That is a blind spot for me.’

"I guess we will find out soon enough."

Glitch perked up from the metal floor. The Void-Weaver stared at the flashing projection and let out a hungry chirp. The infant anomaly trotted toward the console, eager to consume the massive power source.

"You cannot eat that," Red told the creature, resting his chin on his knuckles. "It does not register as faith or mana. We have no idea what is waiting for us across the border."

Red narrowed his eyes at the holographic projection. The massive energy spike beneath Aethelgard defied all system logic. It did not register as divine magic, and it lacked the signature of faith.

He needed eyes on the ground immediately to understand the threat.

’Syra,’ Red projected his voice directly into the assassin’s mind. ’Drop whatever you are doing. Move to the edge of the continental divide. I need visual confirmation of the Fourth Continent’s horizon.’

Down in the golden palace, Syra received the command mid-stride. She tapped her chest plate twice. Without a word to Iron-Scale or Krax, she melted into the elongated shadow of a sandstone pillar and vanished entirely.

With the mythic Ley-Crystal integrated into her core, her traversal was nearly instantaneous. She darted through the darkness cast by the massive dunes, skipping across miles of desert in seconds.

Soon, the golden sand gave way to a brutal expanse of fractured red rock. She had reached the Sovereign’s Path.

The land bridge connecting the two continents was a nightmare of broken geography. Floating boulders and swirling storms of abrasive glass dominated the airspace. The Radiant Gate citadel loomed in the center of the chaos, acting as an impenetrable choke point.

Fortunately, Syra possessed no intention of fighting the royal guard stationed inside. She bypassed the citadel completely by slipping through the deep, shaded crevices carved into the foundational bedrock.

She traveled until she reached the absolute edge of the Third Continent’s landmass.

However, her focus did not remain on the floating fortress. She crouched behind a spire of rock and looked past the land bridge, staring directly toward the distant skies of Aethelgard.

The horizon was bleeding light.

A massive, unnatural pillar of searing white energy tore upward from the capital city miles away. The beam pierced the clouds and violently warped the atmosphere around it.

The sky fractured into unnatural geometric patterns, struggling to contain the sheer output of the weapon.

Syra tapped her communication crystal, routing the signal directly to the Vanguard command network.

"The Sovereign’s instincts were correct," Syra reported, shielding her eyes from the blinding glare. "King Voranthar just activated something catastrophic. The entire sky over their capital is breaking apart."