The battlefield was drenched in blood and wind. Lyra moved like a tempest, her emerald sword carving through demon flesh as razor-sharp wind blades cut down anything in her path. Each fallen enemy's soul was absorbed into her, fueling her power, strengthening her divine core.
She was winning.
Or so she thought.
High above, four dark figures emerged from the smoke—the Demon Generals, wreathed in unholy energy, their eyes burning with malice.
And they did not come alone.
The sky darkened as a thousand zombie wyvern knights descended, their rotten wings flapping with unnatural force, their skeletal faces grinning with deathless hunger.
Lyra's heart pounded as she raised her sword, preparing for the storm ahead.
The Barrier Crumbles
The city's magical barrier flickered, cracks spreading like fractured glass as arcane artillery bombarded the walls. Explosions rocked the fortress, sending debris raining down into the streets. The once-untouchable defense was breaking apart.
On the ground, Captain Rurik, leader of the 2000-strong battalion, watched with a grim expression. His forces had already begun digging a tunnel beneath the battlefield, a secret maneuver meant to strike deep into enemy lines. Now, with the artillery battalion positioned at the border, the time to strike had come.
"Push through!" Rurik commanded. "The tunnel is almost ready—we take out their artillery and cut off their fire support before they flatten the city!"
His soldiers, hardened warriors, obeyed without hesitation. The earth trembled as they dug, the underground assault beginning.
Lyra's Struggle
Above the ruined battlefield, Lyra engaged the Demon Generals. Her divine power kept her one step ahead, her wind magic slicing through wyverns and demons alike, but the pressure was mounting.
That was when the air itself trembled.
A new presence. A new horror.
From the shadows of the enemy's ranks, five Demon Kings emerged, each radiating enough power to shatter mountains. Their twisted horns glowed with abyssal light, their voices a chorus of doom.
Lyra's grip tightened. Individually, none of them were her equal. She could cut them down one-on-one, but together—coordinated, relentless—they threatened to overwhelm her.
Three of them surged forward. Lyra parried, but each clash sent shockwaves through her body. She countered, striking through one's armor, but another attacked from behind, forcing her to spin and block. The weight of battle was pressing in from every side.
Fujin's voice echoed in her mind.
"It looks like we won't survive this, my child."
Blood dripped from fresh wounds. Every direction—attacks. She countered, dodged, struck back, but they kept coming, relentless, endless.
She was alone.
The Underground Assault
The tunnel warriors struck from the depths. Exploding out of the ground, they tore through the enemy's artillery battalion with brutal efficiency. Cannons shattered, mages fell, and for a brief moment, victory seemed possible.
Until another Demon King emerged.
An abyssal giant, wreathed in red lightning.
He raised a clawed hand, charging an enormous spell—a burning sphere of destruction aimed straight at the escaping tunnel warriors.
They had no time to flee.
Death was inevitable.
A Flash of Light
A streak of golden light ripped through the battlefield like a comet.
BOOM!
The sky ignited as Nerina appeared in a flash, coughing from exhaustion but burning with divine power. With one flawless motion, she intercepted the attack, her lance slicing the Demon King in half before he could react.
His body disintegrated in an instant.
Fujin's voice roared.
"Lyra! Your sister is here!"
Lyra's breath caught in her throat.
"Impossible."
She turned, her eyes wide with disbelief.
Her sister—her lost sister—was free.
But how?