The moment Medusa spoke, the air thickened with raw power. The walls of the great hall trembled, as if the very foundation of Velmor itself recognized that history was being rewritten.
Golden energy rippled outward from Medusa, moving in slow, deliberate waves. Not rushed, not hesitant—inevitable. Her serpents hissed, their voices merging into a sound that was neither words nor whispers, but something in between.
The Seal was forming.
Ares, now fully aware of the weight of his mistake, stood rigid, his fists clenched at his sides. He was not foolish enough to challenge Medusa's will a second time.
poor Eldors—looked both honored and terrified. His kingdom was on the brink of something monumental, yet a single, unspoken question clawed at the back of his mind:
Would there be a price?
Because no power—especially one as ancient as Medusa's—came without cost.
Medusa raised a single hand. The golden energy swirling in the air twisted, coiling into an ethereal sigil hovering between her and the king—a divine contract, binding and absolute.
And then, she spoke.
"From now, Velmor will be protected under my name."
King Eldors nearly collapsed in relief. Ares exhaled, looking away. Even Nyx, an amused spectator until now, tilted her head with intrigue.
But Medusa wasn't finished.
She turned to Raezel, her glowing eyes locked onto his. She let the silence stretch for just a moment longer, her smile sharpening at the edges.
"You would defend these mortals, my son?"
Raezel met her gaze without hesitation. "I would."
Medusa's smile deepened. Sharp. Knowing.
"Then you shall."
The sigil flared brighter, hotter, pulsing with ancient power. The golden light crackled, shifting—not just binding Velmor to Medusa, but something else entirely.
And then—
It vanished.
The Seal was set.
King Eldors exhaled sharply, his legs trembling beneath him. Velmor had been saved.
But then—
Nythren snorted.
"Wait, wait, wait. That's the deal?" He grinned, looking between Medusa and Raezel. "Oh, brother. You don't even know what just happened, do you?"
Raezel frowned. "What?"
Nythren pointed at him. "You." Then at the king. "And you." Then back to Raezel. "Congratulations. You're now the official, undeniable, appointed guardian of this entire kingdom."
Silence.
Raezel blinked. "Wait, what?"
Eldors whipped his head toward Medusa. "What!?"
Medusa simply smiled. A mother's smile. The kind that made it very, very clear that her son had just walked into a carefully placed trap.
Nyx chuckled, covering her mouth with one elegant hand. "Oh, this is delightful."
Nythren threw an arm around Raezel's shoulder. "Brother, you really should've asked for details first."
Ares grinned for the first time in what felt like ages. "Serves you right."
Raezel turned to his mother, betrayal in his eyes. "You tricked me."
Medusa simply raised an eyebrow. "I made you responsible."
Eldors, who had been on the verge of a nervous breakdown mere moments ago, suddenly looked much, much happier.
"Oh! Yes, yes, I see now. Wonderful! Raezel, our eternal guardian! We shall build a statue in your honor! Many statues, in fact! Let us begin immediately—"
Raezel buried his face in his hands. "I hate everything."
Nythren cackled. Nyx was still chuckling. Ares? Smug.
Nythren smirked wider, his tone dripping with amusement. "Oh, and don't think you can run, brother. A divine contract isn't something you can just walk away from. The moment this kingdom is in danger? The Seal will call for you."
Raezel groaned, realization fully setting in. "Of course it will."
Far from the gilded halls of Velmor, where gods and legends played their games, another battle was being waged at the Borders of Velmor. One of blood, steel, and survival.
The battlefield was a sea of chaos.
Velmor's warriors, outnumbered a hundred to one, clashed against the might of Xandria—an empire forged in blood and conquest, its name spoken in whispers across the mortal realm. A nation so ruthless, so absolute, that kingdoms did not fight it—they surrendered. The sky was thick with the smoke of burning banners, the ground soaked in blood, and the screams of the dying echoed across the valley.
The Xandrian soldiers fought like a tidal wave, merciless and unrelenting. Their war machines rained fire, their cavalry trampled through the ranks of Velmor's defenders. It was not a battle. It was a massacre.
Velmor's soldiers fought bravely, but they knew the truth.
They will fall today.
Commander Daelus, one of Velmor's strongest warriors, wiped blood from his brow and looked toward the horizon.
No reinforcements. No miracles.
Velmor was alone.
And then—
The battlefield… shifted. Not by man. Not by strategy. But by something far older. Far greater.
At first, it was just a shiver. A faint tremor across their skin. Then—heat. Blazing, searing heat.
One by one, the Velmorian soldiers gasped, clutching their arms, their chests, their faces. Their breath hitched.
And then—the marks appeared.
Glowing, twisting serpent insignias burned into their flesh. Some on their arms, some across their chests, some along their faces. A mark of protection.
The Xandrian warriors hesitated.
Then, they started to notice something was… wrong.
Velmor's warriors stood taller.
Their wounds? Sealing.
Their exhaustion? Gone.
Their fear? Erased.
Commander Daelus flexed his fingers. No pain. No exhaustion. No fear. He clenched his fist. Power surged beneath his skin.
He looked up—into the eyes of his soldiers. He saw it there, too. That same realization.
They had become something else.
The Xandrian general, a warlord who had conquered over fifty kingdoms, watched in growing horror. His warriors, trained from birth, were now falling to mere farmers and foot soldiers.
He had seen war in all its forms.
But never this.
And then—he saw her.
A vision. A nightmare. A woman with serpent hair and eyes that burned through the soul.
Medusa.
And in that moment, he knew.
They were fighting against the will of a Queen, one known and feared across realms.
Victory was no longer a question.
Only the number of bodies it would take to end this war.