Chapter 67: The Battle of Four Fronts
The skies churned with ominous clouds as war horns blared across the horizon. Kael stood at the peak of the command tower, his obsidian cloak flapping wildly in the wind. Beneath him, four distinct battlefronts emerged — each echoing with a different kind of chaos, each threatening to collapse the foundation of everything he had built.
The western front trembled as the Crimson Battalion, introduced in the previous clash, returned with vengeful fury. Their fire-forged armor shimmered like molten steel, and their war formations were tight, precise, and utterly lethal. The warlord leading them — Pyrax the Blazeblood — was a colossus wrapped in runes that pulsed with fire. Rivers of flame followed his steps, and his volcanic flail had shattered siege walls in past wars.
From the north, a frozen storm howled. The Glacier Sentinels — a brutal regiment from the highlands Kael once passed through during his early escape — now served a foreign overlord. Their pale blue armor was etched with sigils of frost, and behind them marched white-furred beasts with fangs like carved ivory. Spearheading this front was Varkon Icevein, a monstrous warrior encased in crystalline frost, wielding a jagged halberd of pure glacier.
The eastern plains were under the assault of the Vulture Horde, nomads draped in bone and cloth, riding beasts bred for speed and slaughter. They struck like ghosts and vanished like smoke. Their leader, Zhaerak the Carrion Prince, was draped in wings of bone and feathers. His eyes were hollow black, his smile ever-curved in mockery. He had once challenged Kael during the fall of the City of Iron — and now returned with a vengeance.
And from the south came the Sunfang Cult, zealots painted in gold and blood, fanatics who believed Kael's rise defied divine order. They moved in formations guided by rhythmic chants and summoned radiant constructs with their divine magic. At their front was Sister Vyelna, clad in radiant silk armor that shimmered like holy fire. She rode a six-legged beast of light, preaching salvation through Kael's annihilation.
Kael narrowed his eyes.
"Four fronts," he muttered. "Four commanders. Four threats."
His system interface flickered before him. Notifications danced like falling leaves:
[System Alert: Coordinated Invasion Detected.]
[Advisory: Divide Forces Strategically. Auto-command Enabled for Elite Subordinates.]
Kael dismissed the advisory. He didn't need the system's algorithms to tell him what must be done.
He turned to his generals — the Seven who stood unshaken even as the world bore down on them.
"General Kaiven," he said, eyes sharp. "You take the west. You've faced Pyrax before. You know his fury."
Kaiven nodded, cracking his knuckles. His armor was layered with reinforced dragon hide. "I'll put his flames out with his own blood."
"General Elira," Kael continued, turning to the only female general among the front line. "Take the north. The Glacier Sentinels are as disciplined as they are merciless. Freeze them in their tracks."
"With pleasure," Elira replied, her silver-bladed spear humming with latent lightning.
"General Bronn, the east is yours. Break the Vulture Horde. Cut the serpent's wings before it circles us."
Bronn slammed his fist against his steel chest plate. "I'll bring you Zhaerak's head."
Kael's voice lowered as he turned to his right-hand man — his First Supreme. "And you," he said with full confidence, "will cleanse the cult from the south."
The First Supreme, cloaked in deep black with violet etchings, simply nodded. "I will not let their light touch our walls."
Kael stared out once more, wind buffeting against his cloak, the four armies like waves poised to crash.
"And I…" he murmured, voice iron-hard, "will ensure none of you fall."
The war horns shrieked again, louder — and the ground trembled. The first siege engines struck. Flaming stones launched by Pyrax's catapults lit up the west. In the north, walls of ice crashed into defensive towers. The east blazed with smoke as the Vulture Horde danced around the outer watchposts, already overwhelming small units. And from the south, golden light seared the skies like comets.
Kael leapt from the tower.
His figure cut through the wind, landing amidst the central courtyard where soldiers gathered, awaiting command. The moment he touched the ground, a burst of silver aura erupted, calming the chaos around him.
"Men!" he roared, voice rippling through the air. "We are attacked from every side — but we are the Forsaken Legion! Let them come. Let them try. We are not the ones surrounded… they are."
A storm of cheers erupted. Banners rose. The horns of Kael's own army sounded — deeper, stronger.
The battle began in earnest.
From the western cliffs, Kaiven's division — armored knights and fire-resistant berserkers — clashed with the Crimson Battalion in a blinding explosion of steel and flame. Pyrax's molten strikes collided with Kaiven's barrier formations, sending fiery shockwaves.
In the north, Elira launched javelins of thunder across the snowy terrain, lightning clashing with frost. Varkon's glacier halberd froze entire regiments, but Elira's speed and precision broke his advances. Ice and lightning danced in a brutal ballet.
Eastward, Bronn's cavalry thundered across plains soaked in blood. The Vulture Horde struck fast — but Bronn's crushing countercharges shattered their fragile hit-and-run tactics. Zhaerak attempted to summon bone storms to blind the front, but Kael's mages nullified them midair.
In the south, the First Supreme sliced through divine constructs like they were mist. Sister Vyelna's radiant hymns clashed with the cold silence of Kael's Supreme. Magic, light, and shadow waged a war of blinding spectacle.
Kael moved between all fronts.
One moment he was with Kaiven, using gravity slashes to split Pyrax's siege lines. The next, he rode an arcane beast northward, aiding Elira with spells that shattered frost barriers.
In the east, he appeared like a phantom, hurling flame-javelins into the heart of Zhaerak's reinforcements. And when he arrived at the south, just in time to block a divine spear meant for his Supreme, the entire cult paused.
"I don't die in your scriptures," Kael whispered to Sister Vyelna, before striking her steed with a shadow lance.
The battlefield was chaos incarnate — but Kael's force, trained, united, unyielding — did not waver.
By dusk, all four enemy fronts had been halted. Not broken — not yet. But the line held. Kael's line held.
Above them all, a blood-red sun set over the scorched fields and frozen valleys, marking the end of the first day of the Battle of Four Fronts.
And Kael knew — this was only the beginning.