The Gathering Storm

The battlefield lay in ruins, the stench of blood and burning flesh clinging to the air. The Smiths moved swiftly, their discipline evident as they set up camp amidst the carnage.

Their tents were erected with practiced efficiency, forming a temporary war base in the heart of the fallen stronghold. Fires were lit, illuminating the bloodstained ground in flickering light, and soldiers worked tirelessly to tend to the wounded, reinforce defenses, and burn the remains of the abominations Uriel had unleashed.

Veteran warriors sharpened their weapons in grim silence, their faces hard as stone. Scouts and intelligence officers moved between tents, exchanging hushed words about their findings. Everyone knew something was wrong.

This war had never been easy, but now—something far worse loomed on the horizon.

The war was just starting and the Blades, although they lost in the first clash, had one-upped them.

...