Come again? what army?

Charlene ran full speed from the dunes into the mouth of the cave, sand clinging to her boots, heart thudding like a war drum in her chest. She didn’t stop until her legs gave out. She collapsed to her knees, panting heavily, struggling to form words.

“Torrock… is… behind… the demon—Mom!” she gasped.

Seth knelt beside her, concern darkening his eyes. He gently pulled out a chair.

“Easy, Princess. Catch your breath. Start from the beginning.”

Charlene nodded, breathing in shallow spurts as she steadied herself. “He’s building something. A new army. The woman who pretended to be Mom—she was just the start.”

Seth’s brows tightened, but it was Argun who reacted first. Seth looked at him sharply. “Argun, we need you.”

A shimmer lit the air and a portal opened. Argun stepped through, eyes scanning the room. “Yes?”

Seth stepped forward. “Tell us what you know about demons—anything that could help.”

Argun’s gaze grew distant, pained. “They need hosts. They can’t leave their dominions unless summoned. Their blood runs black. They're strong—unnaturally so. And they don’t have souls.”

He looked directly at Charlene. “For every Fate… there are hundreds of them.”

“They’re fallen angelic beings,” he finished grimly.

Idris scoffed from the corner. “Now it makes sense.”

Seth glanced his way. “What do you mean?”

“That Torrock is a traitor. A fool drunk on power.”

“You got that right,” Charlene muttered, fists clenched.

The Professor, who had been silent until now, stepped forward. “What’s going to make them leave?”

Charlene answered without hesitation. “Nothing. He made a deal with them. You can’t trust demons to keep their word.”

Seth nodded solemnly. “And he has bodies. All those fallen guards in the woods…”

He whispered to himself, voice heavy with dread. “Torrock, what have you done…? You’ll be the downfall of us all.”

---

Meanwhile, deep in the woods…

Torrock’s guards slogged through muck and waterlogged earth, searching for the bodies of fallen warriors. The air stank of rot. For days they’d worked nonstop, recovering corpses swallowed by the tsunami’s thick mud.

“This is the worst job ever,” one of them groaned, heaving a bloated body onto a stretcher.

“There has to be a better way! We’re getting nowhere!”

“Silence!” Haroon barked, his voice cutting through the rain like a blade. “Supreme Leader Torrock will not be pleased with your whining.”

Thunder boomed overhead. Rain fell in sheets, turning the earth to sludge and slowing them even more. The smell of death was suffocating—some guards vomited where they stood. Others broke down, sobbing at the sight of long-lost comrades.

They weren’t united. Not really. Not anymore.

“We are one,” was the old mantra. But now? It felt like everyone for themselves.

“I should’ve left when I had the chance,” one soldier whispered. “Please… let me do it over. Trinity, hear me…”

Haroon heard the whisper and snapped. “Get back to work! These bodies won’t dig themselves out!”

Many guards glanced at each other in silent agreement: they’d chosen the wrong side in this war. But fear kept them in line. Rumors swirled like ash—those who questioned Torrock vanished. Families erased. The Council had shrunk. Some fled. Others hid. The rest… executed.

One guard dropped his shovel. “We’re done with this,” he muttered. “We’re not doing this anymore!”

The others stood frozen, knee-deep in filth.

Haroon’s eyes blazed. “You’ll do as you’re told!” He touched the mark on his wrist. A long, crackling whip appeared in his hand.

He raised it—

But it never fell.

A bolt of lightning split the sky. Thunder cracked.

Seth stood there, gripping the whip mid-air, eyes locked on Haroon. Behind him, Charlene, Idris, Heth, and ReNew appeared, weapons drawn, faces lit by the electric blue stormlight.

Not one guard moved. Not one lifted a weapon.

Instead, they bowed in the mud, shoulders sagging in quiet relief. Saved.

“Attack!” Haroon screamed.

Silence.

He spun, fist raised—only to punch at empty air as Seth dodged effortlessly. He fell face-first into the mud, snarling as he rose, desperate.

“Short spear,” he whispered, summoning a weapon from the mark on his chest.

Seth raised his hand. “Light shield!”

The spear met the shield in a blinding flash—Haroon was hurled backward, landing hard in the marsh, coughing and spitting mud.

Before he could rise again, Seth was there, pressing the glowing shield to his throat.

“If you want to live,” Seth growled, “take your troops and leave.”

Haroon looked back—but none of his guards would meet his gaze. They had already disowned him.

Defeated, he summoned a portal and disappeared.

As soon as the rip in the air closed, the guards erupted into cheers and relieved sobs.

“Thank you,” one of them whispered.

Seth pointed toward the marsh. “Remember what happened here today. Go. Take your families and leave.”

The guards nodded, scattering—some toward the capital, others toward their homes. All of them knew this was the end. The Guard was finished.

Idris reached out, pulling Seth from the muck. “Dude, you weigh a ton.”

“Just pull harder.”

Heth joined in, and together they hauled him free.

Charlene dug into her pack and pulled out a vial of accelerant, handing it to her father. Seth poured it over the fallen. Charlene stood beside him, whispering a blessing for the lost souls.

When she finished, Seth lit a match and dropped it.

The flames rose behind them as they turned and walked away.

Charlene looked up at her father, voice steady but fierce. “We have to save our people, Dad. They need us.”

Seth nodded, his eyes fixed on the fire. “I know, Princess… I have a plan.”