The rain had not stopped since we began. Thick sheets of it pelted the dirt road, turning it into a river of brown mud. But our vehicles ploughed through it like titans. The five military trucks—behemoths clad in steel and mana—led the charge, their runes glowing faintly against the gloom. The HUMVEEs followed closely, kicking up mud, their enchanted wheels slicing through the terrain without hesitation.
The sound of engines rumbling and boots thudding became a heartbeat for the army. Riders on mana bikes zipped ahead and flanked the sides, scouting and keeping the route clear of monsters or traps. Their visors glowed blue and red, marking each as a harbinger of death.
Inside the lead truck, I sat with Felix, Kael, and Karl. Weapons rested between our feet—my sword glinting with the same faint purple as the storm outside. A subtle vibration told me the system was charging something.
Felix leaned back, arms crossed. "Remember when we barely had a house to sleep in?"
Kael gave a low grunt, smirking. "Now we're riding in a steel monster that could crush a troll."
Karl, seated beside me, said nothing. He was polishing his blade again, eyes far away.
"Thinking about them?" I asked gently.
He nodded once. "Every minute. I remember my little sister crying every time I left. My mother always made dumplings the night before I left for service. She'd—she'd braid my hair and say it was protection from dark spirits."
Felix leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "She'll braid it again, Karl. We'll get her back."
Karl looked up, pain etched in his jaw. "I'm just afraid we're too late."
I gripped his shoulder. "Not while I'm still breathing."
The silence settled again. Outside the window, we passed a group of beastkin soldiers jogging beside the convoy. Despite the storm, they smiled, some even laughing as they chanted battle hymns. One of them held a banner high—it had the symbol of the Divine Tree drawn crudely but proudly.
From the magical stone-infused comms, a voice crackled. "Dirk, this is Rider Group Alpha. Roads ahead are clear. Mana traces faint to the northeast. Permission to pursue?"
I pressed the earpiece. "Hold position. Eyes only. Report immediately if anything shifts."
"Roger."
In the back of the truck, crates of system-purchased ammunition, mana rounds, enchanted blades, and elemental bombs were stacked and secured. Our weapons would not fail us.
Not this time.
*****
Far away, in a towering obsidian keep nestled between blackened mountains, Duke Veranos stood before a glowing mirror—his face twisted in rage.
The mirror shimmered, showing the blurry image of our convoy—trucks that bellowed smoke and power, warriors armoured with light-forged metal, and machines he had never dreamed possible.
A trembling figure knelt beside him, one of his spies—ragged, bleeding, and barely alive.
"They come... with metal beasts, dark ones... they move like thunder."
The Duke's eyes were sunken with madness, his robes pulsing with dark magic. A corrupted elven crown rested atop his head, thorns curling around it like a viper. His hands twitched as he watched the convoy.
"What are these machines? This... this is not from our world," he hissed. "What magic dares mock me?"
An advisor behind him—a fellow dark mage with chains of smoke swirling around him—spoke with caution. "My lord... this man, Dirk... he commands power we've never seen. We have no records of such weapons. No understanding of their origin."
"He's a pest!" Duke Vaelreth Veranos snarled. "A peasant with tricks! He should have died with his dogs at the gate!"
The mirror flickered again—this time showing the field outside Dirk's territory. The burnt remains of the fifteen warriors. Blood, mud, and steel. But even in death, their placement told a tale of honour. They had died guarding the gate. None had fled.
Then the vision shifted—to the divine tree. Glorious. Radiant. Surrounded by gardens of light and petals of swirling magic.
The Duke's eyes twitched.
"He guards something ancient," he whispered. "It answers to him."
He turned to Karl's family—imprisoned in a glass chamber in the room behind him. The mother huddled with the youngest, whispering prayers. The sister sat quietly, her eyes locked on the duke with seething hate.
"I will use them against him," the Duke growled. "And then I'll tear the divine tree from its roots and claim it as mine."
*****
That night, we camped in a valley between broken hills—an old battlefield that still echoed with the scent of rust and magic.
Our warriors set up tents beside the vehicles. Campfires were lit, and enchanted barriers hummed to life. Rifles were checked. Mana and magical stones from the dungeon were infused into bullets and blades. The beastkin led chants. The dwarves tuned and reinforced armour. The humans practised silently.
Felix walked the perimeter, hands clasped behind his back. "The men are ready."
Kael emerged from a small command tent, holding a scroll. "We have the map of the fortress. It won't be easy. It's laced with death traps and blood wards."
Karl stepped beside them. "I know the way. I was taken there once... as a boy. I remember the underground pass they used to move bodies. I can lead us inside."
I nodded, gaze on the flame.
Tomorrow, we would cross the river into cursed territory. Two days later, we would reach the walls of the Duke's fortress.
And then, we would bring the storm.
*****
The winds were sharp as blades.
We stood on the final ridge, cloaked by twisted trees and low fog, overlooking the black scar that was the Duke's domain. Below us, nestled like a cancerous growth in the valley, was Fort Varenth, the Duke's obsidian fortress.
It rose like a jagged claw from the earth, its spires crooked, its walls glowing faintly with veins of red magic—wards pulsing like a heartbeat.
Felix stood beside me, his rifle strapped to his back and twin swords at his hips. "That place smells like rot and arrogance."
Kael crouched nearby, peering through an enchanted scope. "Guards at every tower. Shadow beasts are patrolling the east wing. And that... gate," he muttered. "It's made of bone. Human bone."
Sylphy would have said something snarky right about now. But she wasn't here.
Karl, dressed in scout leathers, stepped forward. "There's an old drainage tunnel behind the eastern cliff. It was used to dump corpses into the river. They think it's abandoned. If we enter there, we can reach the lower levels without triggering the main wards."
"Sounds perfect," Felix muttered. "Crawling through a corpse tunnel."
Karl shrugged. "You want to save my family or not?"
Felix sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Just saying, if we all die covered in sludge, I'm haunting you."
I raised a hand to quiet them. "We go tonight."
Everyone went still.
"The moment we cross that threshold, it's not a rescue anymore," I said. "It's war. We get the family. We blow that fortress to hell. Anyone who tries to stop us—mage, soldier, or monster—dies."
Kael lowered his scope. "What if he uses them as hostages the moment he sees us?"
Karl clenched his jaw. "Then we make sure he doesn't see us."
I turned to the squad leaders behind us—thirty of my best, the elite force that would breach the fortress. The rest would secure the outer valley and handle reinforcements.
"Final gear check," I ordered. "Switch to silent weapons. No magic flares. If we fire, it's kill shots only."
The hum of preparation followed—bolts locking into place, mana cores being inserted into hilts, quiet affirmations.
Felix walked beside me as we approached our truck. "Are you sure we can do this?"
I glanced at him. "No. But we're doing it anyway."