7th Realm… Frost Nation…
Three days had passed since the war between the Sworn Wizards and the Nine Realms Army erupted. The Frost Nation's skies, once calm and serene, were now filled with the echoes of clashing mana blasts, the thunderous roars of magical artillery, and the anguished cries of the fallen. The entire region had transformed into a chaotic war zone where the ground itself seemed to bleed from the sheer destruction.
The Sworn Wizards faction had already suffered a grievous loss—two million soldiers had fallen. Their bodies, now lifeless, would have been a cruel trophy for the enemy, but Madam Clark stood like a cold mountain. She had ordered her war servants to recover every single fallen wizard body, no matter the risk.
"They will all rise again if fate permits," Madam Clark said firmly, standing atop a flowing chariot as she observed the battlefield. Her long staff with its peacock-shaped crystal gleamed ominously under the red sky. "We may lose the Frost Nation's capital, but the war is far from over."
Her words carried across the battlefield, reaching the ears of every sworn wizard. Even in their dire state, they drew strength from her resolve. Yet, the situation was bleak.
Jason Mama, the head of the Nine Realms Association, had proven himself to be as ruthless as he was cunning. He showed no hesitation in sacrificing lives—not just of his enemies but also of his own men—to ensure maximum damage to the Sworn Wizards faction.
Now, Jason Mama stood atop the seven-story pagoda. The pagoda pulsed with deadly energy, releasing mana blasts that took the lives of hundreds of sworn wizards with every cycle. Jason's eyes gleamed with cold calculation as he surveyed the destruction below.
"Activate the enchanted spears," Jason commanded, his voice calm but authoritative.
Moments later, rows of magical spears, imbued with deadly precision spells, rained down on the battlefield. The spears targeted the healers of the Sworn Wizards faction, knowing full well that their loss would cripple the enemy's ability to recover. Each spear landed with devastating accuracy, leaving behind scorched earth and lifeless bodies.
One of the faction leaders, a wand magus, shouted in desperation, "Protect the healers! Form defensive barriers!"
But it was too late. A single coordinated strike from the Forbidden Army had broken their defensive lines, leaving the healers vulnerable. Jason Mama smirked as he gave another order. "Sacrifice the half-sovereign. Let him detonate his mana core in the middle of their healers."
The soldiers around Jason gasped, but no one dared to question him. A half-sovereign wizard from the 2nd Realm, clad in golden armor, rushed ahead. His face was stoic, his loyalty unquestionable. Without a word, he descended into the heart of the sworn wizards' healer lines.
Madam Clark, who had been holding back the mana blasts from the pagoda, noticed the golden streak in the air. Her heart sank. "Stop him!" she yelled, her voice trembling for the first time. "He's going to self-destruct!"
But before anyone could react, a deafening explosion shook the battlefield. The half-sovereign detonated his mana core, unleashing a shockwave that obliterated hundreds of healers and left a gaping crater where they had stood. Madam Clark clenched her fists, her eyes burning with rage.
"Jason, you barbaric monster," she muttered under her breath.
Time passed and war continued…
On the front lines, the Forbidden Army of the Nine Realms Association pushed forward with unrelenting ferocity. These soldiers, unlike ordinary wizards, fought without fear or hesitation. They were a unit of highly trained warriors who moved with synchronized precision, their coordinated attacks devastating the Sworn Wizards' defenses.
"Formation Gamma!" a commander of the Forbidden Army yelled. Instantly, the soldiers formed a triangle, their shields glowing with defensive runes as the mages in the center unleashed a concentrated mana beam. The beam tore through the sworn wizards' front lines, leaving a trail of destruction.
The sworn wizards tried to counter with their own formations, but the Forbidden Army's coordination was unmatched.
"They fight like they've rehearsed every possible scenario," muttered a staff magus as he struggled to hold his ground.
Agroup of sworn wizards attempted to flank the Forbidden Army from the east. They moved silently, their stealth spells perfectly executed. But the Forbidden Army anticipated the move. A hidden unit emerged from the shadows and ambushed the flankers, cutting them down with enchanted daggers before they could even cast a spell.
"How do they know our every move?" a sword faction leader shouted in frustration as he barely parried an incoming strike.
"They don't fear death," replied a fist faction wizard. "That makes them unstoppable."
Despite their losses, the sworn wizards fought valiantly. Madam Clark herself stood at the forefront, her staff radiating a protective barrier that shielded her soldiers from the relentless mana blasts of the pagoda.
"Focus on the pagoda!" The wind-fan faction leader, Lama commanded, his voice cutting through the chaos. "If we can take it down, their long-range advantage will crumble!"
The windfan-fanfiction began channeling their energy into a powerful talisman.
As the talisman activated, a golden dome enveloped the pagoda, temporarily silencing its devastating attacks. Lama and a group of elite wizards charged forward, aiming to dismantle the pagoda's lower levels. But Jason Mama was prepared.
"Release the Forbidden Army reserves," Jason ordered. Another wave of Forbidden Army soldiers poured onto the battlefield, their sheer numbers overwhelming Lama's strike team.
"Fall back!" Lama shouted, realizing they were outmatched.
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The Frost Nation's capital city, once a proud symbol of resilience, now lay in ruins. The sworn wizards had been pushed back, their forces dwindling with each passing hour. Jason Mama's cunning tactics and the relentless advance of the Forbidden Army had turned the tide of the battle.
As night fell, the battlefield was littered with bodies, the ground soaked in blood. Both sides had suffered immense losses—three and a half million lives lost in just three days. But the Sworn Wizards faction bore the brunt of the devastation. While 2 million sworn wizards died, a million and half people fell on the 9 realms army side.
"We may have lost ground," Madam Clark said, addressing her remaining faction leaders. "But this is far from over. They may have the numbers, but we have the will to fight."
Lama, his wind fan dripping with blood, stepped forward. "We need to regroup and fortify. They've underestimated us before, and they'll do it again. That's when we strike."
Madam Clark nodded. "Prepare for the next wave. This war is far from over."
The skies over the Frost Nation burned with the light of spells and explosions as the war raged on. Neither side showed signs of retreat. For every inch of ground gained, countless lives were lost. It was a battle of attrition, a brutal testament to the cost of power and ambition.
And as the fourth day began, the war drums thundered once more, signaling another day of bloodshed and chaos.
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Happy winter night!