Opening Sequence – Morning Calm: Light trains alone at sunrise—his blade sings through the air, flaming bursts flash from his mouth like a dragon, and his shadow dances beside him, mimicking his every move: Barak, silently watching, like a guardian spirit.
The motel manager pokes his head out and nervously mutters,
> "Sir... this isn't a training field. You could use the village war ground—less property damage..."
Kyle laughs from the window:
"He's not breaking anything! Well… not everything."
The two made their way toward the Training Center. On the way, Light caught glimpses of normal village life—children chasing chickens, merchants setting up stalls, and guards on patrol. But something lingered in the air—an unease.
At the center, dozens of warriors trained—some breaking stones with punches, others channeling elemental arts. A bulky instructor, seeing Light's rank, approached and invited him to a private sparring ring.
Meanwhile, in the village's central hall...
The village leader, an aging but strong-willed woman named Elda, stood before a map. A few elite warriors and envoys from nearby towns stood around her.
"The reports are real," Elda said. "The Blightbeasts are gathering in the west. Our scouts never returned. If they break through our front defenses, they'll hit this village next. We must form an elite unit."
One scout whispered, "What about the new guy? The Marshal-ranked one?"
Elda nodded. "Bring him."
Back at the Training Center...
Light was mid-spar with a tall warrior named Harn, who wielded twin axes. The match drew attention as the two clashed fiercely—until Light disarmed him with one elegant spin.
Kyle clapped lazily. "Show-off."
Suddenly, a messenger arrived, bowing deeply. "Marshal Light, the village leader requests your presence. Urgently."
Later, in the council chamber...
Elda looked Light up and down. "You're strong, and you're not from here. That makes you both a mystery and a valuable piece. We're selecting a team. Escort a key Oracle to the Temple of Whispers. The Blightbeasts are on the move, and only warriors with Marshal rank or higher qualify."
Light didn't speak. Kyle raised a brow. "What's in it for us?"
Elda grinned. "Gold. Rank. And knowledge. The Oracle can help you understand what you've become."
Light's eye twitched slightly. The 'Veilborn' power. The angel's whispers. He nodded.
Later that day, the team assembled.
Light: Quiet, calculating, flames and sword.
Kyle: Rogue-type, sarcastic, daggers and smoke bombs.
Sierra: A healer-swordswoman with a fiery temper.
Mira: A former mercenary turned bounty-hunter, serious and sharp-eyed.
Oracle Myrin: Hooded, mysterious, speaks in riddles.
As they prepared to leave, a strange man watched from a distance, perched atop a tree. Cloaked in shadow, he smirked and whispered:
"Well, well… finally, the time is coming."
Enter the Tension – Soldiers Arrive: A small convoy led by Captain Drevin, a sharp-eyed, prideful warrior in golden plate, enters the village.
> "Who's the unregistered Marshal doing live-fire drills?"
When told of Light's presence, Drevin approaches. His eyes scan Light's insignia
Captain Drevin approaches, his gaze sharp like a blade. His golden plate armor shines under the morning sun. He stops a few feet from Light, arms crossed, flanked by his elite guards.
> "A Marshal with no banner, no regiment, and no record of orders? Who do you serve?"
Light, calm but assertive, simply replies:
> "Only My Lord Who is One, Unique and Absolute."
Kyle mutters from behind, "Here we go again…"
The tension thickens until a thunderous roar shakes the earth. Smoke billows from the western side of the village. Villagers scream. A giant monstrous creature, part beast, part corrupted machine, is rampaging toward the farmlands—The Dreadmaws—known from ancient records, sealed long ago.
Drevin draws his blade, barking orders:
> "Men! Defensive formation!"
But before they can move—
Light lifts his arm, and with a whisper:
> "Barak. Raze."
The air tears open like ripped cloth. Shadows spiral upward. Barak emerges from fire ground, towering, armored in shadowsteel, eyes glowing with soulfire. Behind him,soldiers rise from the soil—the Hale-Borne Army. Each one was once a defeated enemy, now bound by oath or fate.
Kyle whistles, "Show-off mode: activated."
The Epic Battle: As Drevin's troops clash with lesser beasts, Light and Barak confront the Dreadmaw Leader Mastema. Fire breath meets toxic roar. Swords clash with metal claws. One of the Hale-Borne beast spirits tries to pin Mastema, but it's overpowered.
At the final moment, Drevin charges forward with a killing blow—but Light stops him.
> "Wait."
The creature, heavily wounded and on its last breath, growls in fear. Light steps forward, eyes glowing.
> "You can die here, forgotten and hated… or rise and live again as my Veilborne"
The Mastema stares. A long pause. Then… it bows its head.
Fire tendrils wrap around its body—not to bind, but to transform. Its flesh becomes misty obsidian, eyes glowing violet. It stands behind Light now, silent… loyal.
Drevin, stunned, whispers,
> "You turned a monster into a Warrior…"
Light only replies,
> "Even shadows can serve the light, if guided."
---
Chapter 4 ends with villagers cheering, the fields safe again. In the background, whispers spread about the "Marshal without a kingdom" who commands an undead shadow army—some fearful, some in awe.
Kyle, stuffing his face with meat in the tavern, grins:
> "Well, that's one way to earn free dinner."