No man island…
The winds over No Man’s Island carried an unsettling calm as the Seventh Realm’s grand army arrived at its shores.
Waves crashed softly against the jagged rocks, oblivious to the thousands of soldiers who disembarked in perfect formation, their armor glinting beneath the pale sun. At the forefront rode Palace Master Dalkir, while senior commanders whispered orders through glowing communication orbs that flickered like flames.
The island stretched before them like a slumbering beast, but its borders were lined with an iridescent barrier that shimmered faintly, like oil over water. It was the barrier set by Kent. Discover more stories at My Virtual Library Empire
Dalkir’s eyes narrowed as he gazed at the translucent wall.
“Prepare the siege formations. Emperor Ryon’s orders were clear – No Man’s Island must fall under our control today.” Dalkir announced.
The army erupted into movement, assembling massive siege weapons that crackled with elemental energy. Rows of enchanted cannons, glowing talismans, and war horns infused with destructive spells lined the shore.
The palace’s most skilled magicians stepped forward, their palms pressed against the cold barrier, murmuring incantations in unison. Blinding runes spread along the surface, flickering under the combined might of the army’s greatest spellcasters.
Cannons roared, sending waves of molten energy crashing into the barrier. Arrows of light rained down like meteors, yet the shimmering wall held, refusing to crack. Hours passed as the barrage continued, sweat pouring from the soldiers’ brows.
Palace Master Dalkir raised a hand. “Focus on one point. We will not waste our strength.”
The cannons recalibrated, and beams of concentrated energy converged on a single spot. Sparks flew as the barrier rippled violently. Cracks spiderwebbed along the surface until, finally, a narrow gap emerged, just wide enough for a dozen soldiers to pass through at a time.
“Finally!” The soldiers breathed in relief.
“Advance!” Dalkir commanded.
The army surged forward, slipping through the breach one by one. As they spilled onto the rocky terrain, they expected to meet resistance – traps, perhaps, or island people waiting in ambush. But the island lay silent.
The once formidable fortress of spells had vanished. The teleportation gate they sought was nowhere to be seen. There was no sign of any single organism.
Dalkir’s brow furrowed in confusion as his gaze swept the barren land. “Where is everyone? Spread out. Find the teleportation gate.”
Squads fanned across the island, but each report returned the same: nothing.
“Palace Master,” one knight called. “The gate is gone. There is no magical trace.”
Silence blanketed the army. The soldiers exchanged uncertain glances, their weapons lowered.
“How could this be?” murmured Dalkir. His grip tightened around his staff. He raised his glass orb and held it aloft. The reflection of Emperor Ryon shimmered into view, his gaze cold and expectant.
“Have you seized the teleportation gate?” Ryon asked with an impatient face.
“No, my Emperor. The island is empty. The barrier has fallen, but there is no sign of the gate or Kent’s forces.”
Ryon stunned for a second. He had a minute doubt of Madam Clark taking shelter in No man island. But he was not at all disappointed. But this useless drama of moving the entire army frustrated him.
“Secure the island. Plant our banners across its shores. No Man’s Island now under direct rule of the Emperor. Hold it until further notice.” Ryon declared in a serious tone.
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Dalkir lowered the orb and relayed the orders. Soldiers began planting banners along the rocky outcrops, their flags flapping in the wind. Just as the final banner was raised, a deep rumble echoed across the land.
The ground trembled beneath their feet. The shadows at the edges of the island lengthened unnaturally. A chilling gust swept through the ranks, extinguishing torches and causing banners to whip violently.
From the cliffs above, cloaked figures emerged – the sworn wizards. Hundreds of them lined the rocky precipice, their eyes glowing like embers beneath their hoods.
Palace Master Dalkir’s heart sank. “Prepare for battle!”
Before the soldiers could react, the air vibrated with the thudding resonance of unspoken spells. The wizards’ movements were synchronized, their incantations layered in perfect harmony. Arcs of blue lightning crackled, swirling into the sky before cascading down upon the soldiers below.
Screams filled the air as the first ranks dissolved into ash, their armor crumbling to dust. Soldiers scrambled, raising shields and chanting counter-spells, but the onslaught was merciless. For every soldier who raised a barrier, a dozen more fell to the wrath of the sworn wizards.
Dalkir’s voice roared over the din. “Hold the line! Form defensive circles!”
But it was too late. The mages of the Seventh Realm were no match for sworn wizards, who wielded spells of great power. One by one, the Seventh Realm’s soldiers fell.
In the heart of the chaos, the three senior commanders attempted to rally their forces, but divine spells spiraled through the battlefield, decapitating them in a flash of silver light.
By the time the smoke cleared, the once-mighty army lay in ruins. The few survivors fled toward the breach in the barrier, but it sealed shut with a final whisper of magic.
No Man’s Island stood as it had before – silent, unyielding, and untouched by the banners of the Seventh Realm.
From atop the cliffs, a figure stepped forward. Madam Clark lowered her hood, her eyes cold and piercing as she watched the dead remnants of Ryon’s forces.
“The real battle has yet to begin. Clear the area, shut the broken barrier and wait for the real war.” She instructed before turning away from the field.
–
Edges of Desolate Desert…
A group of soldiers clad in dark azure armor stood atop a nearby cliff, their eyes locked onto the music hall. The crest of the Storm God shimmered on their chests, faint crackles of lightning dancing around their gauntlets.
“There is no mistake,” one soldier whispered, lowering his spyglass. “It’s him. Kent is aboard that golden castle.”
Another soldier clenched his fist, lightning surging faintly between his fingers. “Inform the Storm Knight immediately. The Storm God’s orders were clear. We’ve been searching for him for days.”
Without hesitation, one soldier pressed his palm to a crystal orb hanging from his belt. The orb flickered, and within moments, a voice echoed through the air.
“Storm Knight,” the soldier reported, “we’ve located Kent.
-tq
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