Fallen.

The valley stretched out before them, the rugged terrain giving way to the distant sight of Étsien. The city, nestled between mountains and cliffs, was imposing with its high walls and Republic banners flapping in the wind. Vallen and his troops led their horses by leash, the faint sound of hooves scuffing against the rocky ground, a quiet but tense atmosphere hanging over them like a thick fog. Amara's heart pounded in his chest, a sense of anticipation building as they neared their destination. 

The moment the city came into view, Vallen signaled the troops to mount their horses. Amara swung onto her own steed, her fingers trembling slightly as they gripped the reins. Her Skill would soon come into play, and the lives of her comrades depended on it. But more than that, there was something about Vallen's presence, his unwavering calm, that stirred something deep within him. A sense of purpose, of responsibility.

Vallen rode to the front of the formation, his voice cutting through the growing wind as he addressed his soldiers. 

"Étsien lies ahead, and beyond it, the heart of the Republic's grip on our people. When we strike, they will tremble at the sound of our name!"

The soldiers erupted into low murmurs of agreement, their expressions hardened with resolve. Amara's chest tightened, the weight of the task ahead resting heavily on her shoulders. She took a deep breath, steadying herself. It was time.

She closed her eyes. Her fingers glowed with a faint light, and soon, a wave of energy pulsed out from her, washing over the entire troop. The camouflage Skill activated, and one by one, they seemed to vanish from sight, their forms blending seamlessly into the rocky landscape around them. Amara's skill cloaked them in an illusion that bent light and shadow, making them appear as part of the terrain itself.

With the Skill in place, they spurred their horses forward, charging toward the mountain unseen by the Republic soldiers stationed within the city. The wind howled past them, and though they rode in silence, the tension was palpable, each heartbeat in sync with the thunderous sound of hooves pounding against the earth. The Republic soldiers, oblivious to their approach, continued their patrols along the city walls, their eyes scanning the valley but never seeing the invisible army that passed beneath their noses.

As the camouflage Skill wore off, they were already on the mountainside, the steep incline and treacherous path guiding them toward the enormous metal doors embedded into the rock. The Republic soldiers, alerted too late, began to shout in alarm, their horns blaring, but by then, Vallen and his troops had already reached their destination. They had the high ground.

Before them loomed the massive steel gates, the entrance to the stronghold where the rebellion simmered, waiting for this very moment. Vallen raised his hand, signaling for the troops to dismount and draw their weapons. 

Inside, chaos had already erupted.

The sound of clashing metal and the screams of battle echoed through the cavernous interior. The rebellion had begun, with the slaves turning on their masters, their chains broken and their rage unleashed. Amara could hear the distant cries of the guards as they tried to regain control.. The slaves, once beaten and oppressed, fought with the ferocity of those with nothing left to lose.

The clamor of the rebellion inside the mountain stronghold was a brief victory, but outside, the reality of war hadn't been silenced. A horn sounded from the city below. The Republic soldiers stationed in Étsien had finally noticed the breach. They were rallying. From the city gates, a force of mounted soldiers surged toward the mountainside, banners of the Republic flying high, armor glinting in the sunlight as they rode in tight formation, their numbers vast and disciplined.

Vallen stood at the entrance of the mountain stronghold, his eyes narrowing as he watched the approaching force. He could see the gleam of their swords, the deadly precision of their charge. But he had expected this. Their reaction was inevitable, and now the second part of his strategy would be set into motion.

The Republic soldiers drew closer, their formation tight, the thundering sound of their hooves echoing through the valley. Vallen waited, his hand raised, signaling his men to remain still. The Republic's vanguard was just within range, but Vallen didn't give the order yet. The tension in the air was palpable, the distance between the two forces rapidly shrinking.

Closer... closer...

"Now!" Vallen roared, his voice sharp and commanding.

In perfect unison, the soldiers struck the flanks of their horses with the flat of their blades, sending the animals into a wild frenzy. The once-docile horses reared up, their eyes wide with panic, before they bolted forward, galloping at full speed down the mountain path directly toward the advancing Republic troops.

The effect was devastating.

The sudden stampede of wild, riderless horses threw the advancing Republic soldiers into chaos. The tightly packed formation splintered as the panicked animals crashed into their ranks, hooves pounding against armor, throwing riders from their saddles. The once-organized charge of the Republic soldiers turned into utter chaos as they struggled to control their mounts, only to be struck down by the thundering herd. Screams of confusion and terror filled the air as soldiers were trampled beneath the force of the charging horses.

Amara watched in awe as the scene unfolded before her. The wild horses, seemingly uncontrollable, became the hammer that shattered the Republic's soldiers. Bodies were thrown, swords clattered uselessly to the ground, and the once-disciplined charge had turned into a disorganized retreat.

Vallen didn't wait for the Republic forces to fully recover. He drew his sword and turned to his men, his eyes alight with fierce determination. "Now, we strike! "

His soldiers roared in response, emboldened by the chaos that had been unleashed. They charged down the mountainside, their swords raised, following their commander. Amara was right beside them, his heart pounding as the thrill of battle surged through him. The Republic soldiers, still reeling from the devastation of the stampede, were unprepared for the sudden onslaught of Vallen's troops.

The clash was brutal and swift. Vallen's soldiers, though fewer in number, fought with precision and purpose, cutting down the disoriented Republic troops who had survived the initial chaos. 

Vallen, at the head of his troops, fought with a fierce elegance, his every move deliberate, every strike lethal. He moved through the battlefield like a storm, cutting down enemies. The Republic soldiers, now scattered and leaderless, had little hope of regrouping.

Within minutes, the tide of battle had turned. The once-mighty charge of the Republic army had been reduced to a disorganized retreat. Those who hadn't been trampled by the horses or cut down by Vallen's troops were fleeing back toward the safety of the city walls, their morale shattered.

Vallen raised his sword high, his voice carrying across the battlefield. "Étsien is ours! Press on!"

After leaving a legion to kill the remaining soldiers in Étsien they went back to the mountain and entered the stronghold.

The thick smoke curled around him, casting shadows in the flickering firelight. The chaos of the rebellion swirled in the distance, but all that faded away as he focused on the task ahead. Vallen moved ahead, cutting down anyone who stood in his path.

The other soldiers in their squad fought just as fiercely, their movements honed by years of battle. But Amara was different. This was new. She wasn't like them at least, not yet.

Suddenly, from the darkness, a figure lunged toward him. The Republic soldier's face was twisted with desperation, his armor dented and stained with blood. He swung his sword wildly, aiming for Amara's chest. 

Amara's body reacted instinctively, stepping back, her sword raised to parry the blow.

The clash of steel rang out, and for a moment, time seemed to freeze. The soldier came at her again, slashing with reckless abandon. Amara's hands trembled on the hilt of her sword as she blocked another strike, the force of it sending a shockwave through her arms. Her mind raced. Everything she'd learned, all the training, now came down to this one moment.

The soldier charged again, this time with more force. Amara saw the opening her opponent had overextended, leaving his chest exposed. Her instincts screamed at her to strike. She had to. There was no choice. The world seemed to narrow to that one point, her sword, the man's chest, and the empty space between them.

Amara stepped forward, her sword thrusting out before she even realized what she was doing. The blade pierced the soldier's armor with a sickening sound, slipping between the plates and sinking into flesh. She felt it the moment her sword found its target. The man gasped, his eyes wide in shock as blood welled up around the blade. For a second, their gazes locked, and Amara saw the fear and pain in the man's eyes. 

The soldier collapsed against Amara, his weight heavy, his breath coming in ragged gasps as blood spilled out onto the floor. Amara's sword was still buried in his chest, and for a moment, she couldn't move. She felt the man's life slipping away, the final, weak pulse of his heart. Her hands shook as she pulled the sword free, the wet sound of it sliding from the body echoing in her ears.

The soldier crumpled to the ground, his body limp and lifeless.

Amara stood over him, frozen. Her breath came in shallow, panicked bursts, and his chest tightened with a feeling she couldn't quite name. HeR first kill. She had taken a life. The realization crashed over her like a wave, and her stomach churned. Her hand was slick with the man's blood, her sword now heavy in his grasp.

A wave of nausea rose in her, but she swallowed it down, forcing himself to stay steady. This was war. This was what she had signed up for. But it didn't feel like victory. It didn't feel like glory. It felt like something had been taken from her, something she hadn't realized she'd held onto until now. His innocence? His sense of who she was?

Her hands trembled uncontrollably. Was this what it meant to be a soldier? To feel the weight of death with every strike?

"Amara!" Vallen's voice cut through the haze of his thoughts. She glanced up to see his commander watching him, his expression unreadable. Vallen's gaze lingered on the body at Amara's feet for a moment before he nodded slightly. "There will be more," he said, his tone firm but not unkind. "The first is always the hardest. But you did what had to be done."

Amara swallowed hard, his throat dry. She nodded, though the words didn't comfort her. 

The battle still raged around them, but for Amara, everything had changed in that moment. She had crossed a line, one that could never be uncrossed. The sounds of fighting faded into the background as she stood there, staring down at the body, her sword hanging limply at his side. She felt hollow inside, like a part of her had been carved out and left behind on that blood-soaked floor.

Vallen placed a hand on Amara's shoulder, a silent gesture of understanding. "We press on. There's still more work to be done."

Amara nodded again, though her legs felt like they might give out at any moment. Her pulse still raced, her thoughts still tangled with the weight of what she'd just done. But there was no time to dwell on it. The stronghold wasn't yet fully theirs.

The deeper Vallen, Amara, and Mettei moved into the stronghold, the atmosphere grew thick with the stench of blood and burning flesh. Smoke curled through the air like a living thing, choking the light and muffling the distant sounds of battle. The stone walls seemed to close in, and the further they ventured, the more the stronghold felt like a tomb, a place where only the dead belonged.

Their boots echoed sharply on the blood-slicked floor as they descended into the heart of the enemy's lair. Vallen led the way, his sword drawn, his face a mask of calm fury. 

As they turned a corner, the sound of hurried footsteps caught their attention. A group of Republic soldiers emerged from the smoke-filled passage ahead, their eyes wild with fear but their swords drawn and ready. There was no time for hesitation.

"No mercy. Kill them all." Vallen's voice cut through the air like a whip

With a roar, the first Republic soldier lunged toward Vallen, his blade swinging in a wild arc aimed at Vallen's throat. But Vallen was too fast. He sidestepped the attack with fluid grace, his sword flashing out with deadly precision. The sharp edge of his blade sliced cleanly through the man's throat, blood spraying in a crimson arc as the soldier staggered, clutching at the gaping wound before collapsing to the ground.

Before the body had even hit the floor, another soldier rushed forward, his face twisted with rage. Vallen parried the blow effortlessly, steel clashing against steel with a deafening ring. With a grunt, he shoved the man back, then spun his blade in a swift arc, the tip carving a deep gash across the soldier's chest. Blood gushed from the wound, and the man crumpled, his screams lost in the chaos.

Amara found herself face to face with another soldier, her heart pounding. The man's eyes were wide with desperation, but his sword was steady as he thrust forward. Amara raised her blade just in time to block the strike, but the force of the blow sent shockwaves through his arms. She stumbled back, teeth gritted, before planting her feet and countering with a swift slash of her own.

Her sword cut deep into the man's side, tearing through flesh and bone. The soldier screamed, blood pouring from the wound, but he didn't go down easily. He swung wildly in a desperate attempt to stay alive, but Amara was faster. With a fierce yell, she brought his sword down in a brutal arc, cleaving the man's arm from his body. The soldier collapsed, writhing on the ground, his lifeblood pooling beneath her.

Mettei, meanwhile, danced through the chaos like a whirlwind of death. He was small but swift, his blade flashing with deadly accuracy as he cut down one enemy after another. A Republic guard lunged at him from the side, his sword aimed at her heart, but he ducked beneath the swing and drove his blade into his gut. The man let out a choked gasp as blood spilled from his mouth, his eyes wide with shock as Mettei twisted the sword, wrenching it free with a sickening squelch.

Another soldier came at him, his spear thrusting forward, but Mettei was already moving. He sidestepped the attack, his blade a blur as he slashed across the man's throat. Blood sprayed from the wound, and the soldier dropped to his knees, choking on his own blood before collapsing in a lifeless heap.

The passageway became a killing ground. Vallen, Amara, and Mettei tore through them like wolves among sheep, their blades carving a path of carnage. Blood splattered the walls, pooling on the stone floor as bodies piled up around them. The metallic stench of death was suffocating, the air thick with the sounds of steel slicing flesh, the wet thuds of bodies hitting the ground, and the gurgling cries of the dying.

The passage was littered with the dead, the walls splattered with gore, and the stench of death hung heavy in the air. Vallen wiped the blood from his sword, his expression grim as he surveyed the carnage.

They had won this battle, but the war was far from over.

"Move," Vallen said, his voice low but commanding. "We're not done here."

Amara and Mettei nodded, their breaths still coming in heavy, ragged gasps. Blood dripped from their blades.

As they approached the massive door that led to the other side of the mountain and into the Republic territory, the atmosphere grew charged with anticipation. The door loomed before them, a grim threshold separating the horrors they had just witnessed from the unknown dangers that awaited them.

The sound of distant clashing steel echoed from behind them, the cries of the wounded mixing with the chaos of battle. They had fought hard to reach this point, and the realization that they were about to enter enemy territory heightened the tension in the air.

As they neared the door, they encountered a small group of slaves huddled together, their faces marked by fear and uncertainty. 

Vallen raised a hand, signaling for the slaves to step forward. "Go," he ordered, his voice steady yet urgent. "Join the other troops."

The slaves exchanged wary glances but quickly nodded, fueled by the flicker of hope ignited in Vallen's commanding presence. They began to shuffle away, their ragged uniforms stained with dirt and despair, but their spirits seemed to lift just a little as they turned to join their fellow rebels.

Taking a deep breath, Vallen stepped up to the colossal door, his eyes focused and determined. With a powerful shove, he pushed it open, and sunlight poured into the darkened passage, bathing them in warmth and revealing the stark reality of their situation.

As the door swung wide, Amara shielded her eyes from the sudden brightness, her heart racing. When the light faded, she looked down at her hands, smeared with blood that wasn't her own, a haunting reminder of the lives she had taken just moments ago.

Shock coursed through her as she raised a trembling hand. 

Vallen noticed Amara's face and stepped closer, his expression softening for just a moment. He grasped Amara's face firmly, forcing him to meet his gaze.

 "This is not the end, Amara." He said, his voice steady.

Amara nodded slowly, swallowing hard as she fought to regain his composure.

As the three of them stepped through the threshold and into the blinding light, the stark contrast of their bloody uniforms against the bright backdrop of the Republic territory was a testament to their resolve. 

The sun illuminated the vast expanse of the Republic's landscape before them rolling hills, distant smoke rising from the remnants of battle, and the fortifications that stood like sentinels against the horizon. 

Then a message came, the Republic forces from the west were on the move. Vallen felt the urgency seep into his bones, his instincts kicking in as he quickly assessed their options. He had to act, there was no time to waste, and the situation demanded a bold maneuver.

"Gather the remaining horses!" Vallen shouted, his voice cutting through the panic that was beginning to spread among his troops.

Confusion erupted among the soldiers. Amara and Mettei exchanged worried glances, uncertain of Vallen's intentions.

 "What are you doing?" Amara asked, fear creeping into his voice. "You can't just charge into the Republic army! It's madness!"

Vallen said nothing, he mounted a horse and with that, he led the remaining soldiers through the gates of the fortress towards the main battlefield.

As Vallen got closer to the main battlefield with the boost. Vallen drew in a deep breath, centering himself as he prepared for the moment of impact. The air around him shimmered with energy as he urged his horse forward. The remaining soldiers, their faces a mix of determination and fear, followed suit, their horses galloping in unison like a swarm of arrows unleashed from a bowstring.

The scene before them was terrifying, a sprawling battlefield littered with soldiers from both the Imperial and Republic forces. The clashing steel, the shouts of commands, and the cries of the wounded painted a grim picture of war. Yet, amidst the chaos, Vallen and his 2,000 men were poised to execute the impossible.

As they charged forward, the earth trembled beneath the pounding hooves, and dust rose like a storm around them. Vallen led the charge, his heart pounding in his chest as he felt the thrill of battle awaken within him. He could see the Republic soldiers ahead, their formations tightly packed, unaware of the storm that was about to hit them.

"Forward!" He shouted, his voice ringing out over the din.

With that battle cry, they struck like a hammer against an anvil, bursting through the lines of the enemy from the back in a perfect arrow formation. The shock of their sudden appearance sent ripples of confusion through the Republic ranks. Soldiers turned in horror as the Imperial forces tore through their defenses, disrupting their carefully laid plans.

The element of surprise was on their side, and as they broke into the heart of the Republic soldiers, Vallen felt a surge of adrenaline. The initial impact was devastating, horses collided with soldiers, trampled them underfoot, and swords clashed with shields. The cacophony of war was overwhelming, a symphony of destruction playing out before him.

Vallen's mind focused, his instincts guiding him as he maneuvered through the chaos. He raised his sword high, bringing it down with lethal precision on a nearby Republic soldier who had attempted to mount a counterattack. The soldier crumpled to the ground, and Vallen felt a surge of fierce satisfaction. They were gaining ground, driving the enemy back.

As Vallen pushed forward, he glanced over his shoulder to see his men following his lead, breaking through the enemy lines with remarkable agility. The Republic soldiers, once confident in their numbers, were now floundering as the Imperial forces poured into their midst, overwhelming them with ferocity and sheer determination.

"Keep pressing forward!" Vallen urged, the words pouring from him like a battle hymn. "We're breaking their ranks! Don't stop!"

The Imperial soldiers rallied behind him, their spirits ignited by the rush of combat. The battlefield, once dominated by the Republic, began to shift. Vallen and his men fought with a primal intensity, pushing deeper into enemy territory.

"Form up! We're pushing for the flank!" He shouted, directing his troops with precision. The soldiers quickly rearranged themselves, forming a tighter unit as they surrounded a group of Republic soldiers, their weapons glinting ominously in the sunlight.

With Vallen at the helm, they began to cut through the enemy forces like a knife through butter. The battlefield became a whirlwind of chaos and blood, each swing of their swords a testament to their resolve.

"Charge!" Vallen cried again, his voice fierce and unyielding. They drove deeper into the Republic's formation, breaking through their defenses, the overwhelming force of their attack shattering the morale of the enemy.

The Republic soldiers faltered, confusion and fear spreading like wildfire through their ranks. Vallen could see their hesitation, their faltering spirits. "Now! Push forward!" he commanded, and the Imperial soldiers roared in response, charging ahead.

Vallen's heart raced as they carved their way through the Republic lines, each swing of his sword resonating with purpose. They had done the impossible, they had taken the fight to the enemy, turning the tide of the battle in their favor.

The cries of the wounded mingled with the clash of steel as the chaos of war raged on, but Vallen remained focused. He could see the path ahead, the heart of the Republic forces waiting to be shattered. And with each passing moment, he was one step closer to securing victory for the Empire.

Amidst this carnage, two figures stood out against the backdrop of destruction, General Vallen of the Imperium and General Ikhan of the Republic.

Ikhan shimmered in his full silver armor, each piece glinting like a beacon of hope for his men. He moved with the precision and grace of a seasoned warrior, each step measured and purposeful. His sword, a masterwork of craftsmanship, sliced through the air as he lunged forward, intent on ending this battle once and for all.

As they clashed, sparks flew where metal met metal. Strike and riposting with a swift slice aimed at Ikhan's flank. The Republic general sidestepped, narrowly avoiding the blow, his eyes narrowing with determination.

The battlefield surged around them, soldiers grappling with their own battles, the sounds of steel ringing out like a dreadful hymn. Vallen's focus was sharp, drowning out the cries of the dying and the thunder of war. He dodged and weaved, countering each of Ikhan's powerful strikes with the finesse honed from years of combat. Each time they clashed, the force sent shudders through their arms, the pain serving only to fuel their rage.

Blood began to trickle from a cut on Vallen's brow, and he wiped it away with the back of his hand, eyes never leaving Ikhan. "You're fighting for a lost cause," he spat, using the moment to launch a fierce counterattack, slashing low to catch Ikhan off guard.

Ikhan grunted as he blocked the blow, but the impact jarred him. "As long as we draw breath, we will fight!" he shouted, rallying himself as he advanced again, thrusting his sword with deadly intent.

Their blades collided with a thunderous clash, and in that moment, they stood locked, each pushing against the other, eyes blazing with unyielding determination. But in the chaos, a piercing cry echoed through the air. An Imperial soldier had fallen, and the sound reverberated across the battlefield like a rallying cry.

"Vallen! To me!" a voice shouted, but Vallen's attention remained fixed on Ikhan, their struggle consuming all his focus. With a sudden, desperate shift, Vallen spun to the side, attempting to regain control of the fight. He delivered a series of swift strikes, forcing Ikhan back, but the Republic general was relentless, pressing forward, a storm of steel and fury.

The two men danced through the chaos, their surroundings fading into a blur of blood and violence. Vallen could see the fear in the eyes of his soldiers, the weight of their expectations pressing down on him. With each parry, each counter, he could feel the tide of battle shifting, the stakes rising higher.

In a critical moment, Vallen saw Ikhan's armor gleaming in the dim light. Seizing the opportunity, he lunged, aiming for Ikhan's heart. But Ikhan, sidestepped at the last moment and struck back, his blade finding its mark in Vallen's side.

Pain lanced through Vallen's body, a burning fire that threatened to overwhelm him. Gritting his teeth against the agony, he pushed through, fueled by sheer determination. With a swift, brutal motion, Vallen retaliated, his brother's sword piercing deep into Ikhan's chest.

Time slowed to a crawl as the two men felt the life draining from them, both realizing the tragic irony of their situation. They fell to their knees, gazes locked in a moment of shared understanding, a silent acknowledgment of the lives they had led and the sacrifices they had made. Blood pooled around them, mingling on the ground, a testament to their fierce battle and the cost of war.

"General Ikhan has fallen!" a voice shouted amidst the chaos, cutting through the confusion like a blade. "Kill them all!" The command ignited panic among the Republic soldiers as they began to realize their commander was lost to them. Fear gripped them, and they started to scatter, retreating from the fight.

But the tumult had not yet settled. Another voice rang out, sharp and clear against the din. "General Vallen has fallen" The words echoed across the field, bringing a stunned silence to the combatants. Soldiers paused, their expressions morphing from fierce resolve to shock as they turned to witness the fallen figures of their leaders.

General Corvinus fought through the throng of bodies, his heart pounding as he neared Vallen's side. Desperation clawed at him as he saw him, his uniform soaked in blood, the earth beneath him stained red. He knelt beside him, his hands trembling as he reached for him. 

"Vallen!" He shouted, his voice a mixture of urgency and sorrow.

"Corvinus…" He murmured, a faint smile gracing his lips despite the pain etched across his face. He struggled to meet her gaze, blood pooling beneath him, the weight of his injuries pulling him down.

"Stay with me!" He shouted once again.

His gaze was distant, yet there was a peace in his expression as he grasped his hand tightly, drawing strength from her presence.

As the battle raged on around them, Corvinus looked around at the men and women who had fought beside them, their faces reflecting the shock of loss. 

But as Vallen's breathing slowed, the light in his eyes dimming, the world around them fell into silence.

In the end, the Imperium emerged victorious, but at a staggering cost. They lost approximately 35,000 soldiers in the fierce battle, while the Republic suffered devastating casualties, with around 100,000 soldiers falling on their side. Despite their losses, the Imperium secured control of the western territories.

With the bloody victory came the cost of a life which led the Imperial forces fiercely.

Imperial General Vallen Casuss funeral became a historic event, attended by over one hundred thousand soldiers who mourned his death with a fervor that echoed throughout the capital. The streets were lined with somber faces, both familiar and unfamiliar, as the ranks of soldiers stood at attention, their uniforms pristine yet heavy with grief. Civilians, many of whom did not know Vallen personally, were drawn to the spectacle, captivated by the sheer number of soldiers paying tribute to a man who had represented the very essence of honor and bravery.

As the procession moved slowly through the city, a haunting silence fell over the crowd. They watched as Vallen's white casket was carried with reverence, the soldiers marching in perfect formation, their heads held high despite the sorrow in their hearts. Flowers, placed along the route, served as a poignant reminder of the life that had been lost—a life dedicated to the Imperium and its people.

At the funeral site, the atmosphere was heavy with emotion. Thousands of soldiers, civilians and nobles gathered, forming a sea of black and white, their expressions a mix of despair and respect. 

The emperor stood before the crowd, his heart weighed down by the loss of a general who had fought valiantly for the Imperium. As he delivered his final words to not just a general but a friend, his voice cracked with emotion, capturing the essence of Vallen's legacy his bravery on the battlefield, his compassion for his soldiers, and his unwavering dedication to the Imperium.

"General Vallen Casuss embodied the spirit of our nation!" the Emperor proclaimed, his voice echoing through the crowd. "He was not just a soldier, he was a leader, a friend, and a hero. We shall forever remember his name, and we will honor him through our actions in the years to come."

As the Emperor spoke, the mood shifted from one of mourning to a resolve to honor Vallen's legacy. Stories of his bravery began to spread like wildfire throughout the capital and beyond. Tales of his courageous deeds inspired not only soldiers but also civilians, who felt a newfound pride in their Imperium. Statues of Vallen were commissioned, each one a testament to his sacrifice and a reminder of the courage that should live on in every citizen's heart.

In recognition of his indelible impact, the highest military rank in the Imperium, the rank of Imperial General was renamed in his honor, now known as the Casuss rank. This change signified the profound respect held for Vallen and his legacy, ensuring that his name would continue to inspire future generations of leaders and soldiers.

As Amara stood among the crowd, she felt the collective grief transform into a powerful resolve. In her heart, she promised to honor Vallen's legacy. She would dedicate herself to the Imperium, using her strength and determination to ensure that the sacrifices made by those who came before her would not be in vain.

In the days that followed, the name Vallen Casuss became synonymous with valor and honor. Schools taught children about his life, and stories of his heroism were recounted around campfires and in homes across the land. As the Imperium moved forward, they did so with the spirit of their fallen general guiding them, a light in the darkness that would never fade.

Decades later Vallen legacy was still honored as under the guidance of Empress Augustus Vallenia Casuss, the daughter of Vallen, the nation had become the strongest power the world had ever known, conquering all surrounding kingdoms and establishing a reign of unparalleled strength and dominance. The tales of her father's valor served as the foundation upon which she built her empire, each conquest echoing his legacy and instilling fear in the hearts of her enemies.

Augustus Vallenia Casuss was a force to be reckoned with. Renowned for her strategic brilliance and fierce demeanor, she commanded the loyalty and respect of her people and her generals. Her keen intellect was matched only by her warrior spirit, having trained rigorously under the teachings of her father's comrades and military scholars. Under her rule, the Imperium's borders expanded relentlessly, territories falling before the might of her armies, each victory a testament to her leadership.

At her side stood Cassus General Amara Elaris, a formidable warrior known for her ruthless efficiency in battle. Amara had risen through the ranks by proving herself in countless skirmishes, her reputation for ferocity and skill striking terror into the hearts of enemies. As the Empress's most trusted general, she led the charge in campaigns that turned the tide of war, embodying the fiery spirit of the Imperium and the legacy of Vallen.