The notifications from the system had spread like wildfire, flashing across every ascender's Hud in Bastion:
[Notice: The following are in effect regarding the Yellow Zone event!]
The entirety of the Yellow Zone is now considered the domain of Durnak.All dungeons have been automatically upgraded to Tier 2.All dungeons, with the exception of the four main dungeons, have now been unleashed.The stronghold of Durnak, the Forsaken Titan, Prime Aberrant of the Yellow Zone, is classified as a Tier 3 dungeon.All loot and rewards will remain sealed until the end of this event.All rewards have a base rank of Rare.
Moyo read the announcement, his grip tightening on Ida. Around him stood Idris, Josh, Annika, and Ayo, their faces a mix of determination and unease. Behind them, the full might of Bastion's ascenders was gathered, their eyes fixed on the horizon where the Yellow Zone loomed like an ominous wound upon the land.
The thralls awaited them, grotesque abominations of creatures that had once roamed Earth. Crystals of silver and red jutted from their forms, humming with a sinister energy. Some of these shards grew into weapons, while others encased entire limbs. The air was heavy with anticipation, the creatures standing eerily still, as though awaiting a signal to charge.
Moyo's gaze turned to the four dungeons that pulsed faintly across the horizon. The system's intent was clear: this was a game, a twisted challenge designed to force him and his companions to face their worst trials alone. The symmetry was deliberate, the parallels to their own group undeniable.
With a sigh, he unsheathed Ida, the blade humming with restrained power. The sound alone seemed to cut through the tension like a knife. Without a word, he stepped forward, crossing into the Yellow Zone.
[Event has started!]
The notification blared across their screens as the thralls roared to life. A tide of grotesque creatures surged toward them, claws, fangs, and crystalline weapons gleaming in the dim light. Winged beasts took to the air, shrieking in unison as they joined the fray.
"Go, Lord Titan Blade! This is no fight for you!" Idris bellowed, his earth cleaver already in motion, crushing the first wave of attackers.
Moyo nodded, his focus shifting as the tide pressed in. Blade Storm erupted from Ida, a whirlwind of destruction that carved through the thralls like paper. Around him, Ayo's Inferno Surge blazed across the battlefield, turning the ground into an infernal wasteland. Lightning crackled as Annika danced through the chaos, her spear a blur of motion. Josh's hammer echoed like thunder, shattering crystals and bone alike.
The forces of Bastion held the line behind them. The combined might of Bastion's mages and warriors unleashed a torrent of skills, weaving a wall of death that stemmed the endless tide. Still, the horde's sheer numbers threatened to overwhelm them.
"Grab on!" Moyo shouted over the din, his voice a commanding force. "We're moving forward. Idris, you too!"
The group complied, and Moyo activated Titan Walk, warping space around them. For a moment, resistance pushed back—an oppressive force, no doubt from the zone itself. With a grunt of effort, he pierced through, emerging near the stronghold that loomed in the distance.
The weight of Durnak's presence struck them like a hammer. It was oppressive, an almost tangible force that clawed at their resolve. Moyo instinctively extended his aura, shielding his companions from the worst of it.
"This pressure…" Josh growled, his grip tightening on Gravemaw.
"I hate to admit it," Ayo said, her voice strained, "but I'm actually grateful for all that training."
Moyo stepped forward, attempting to push past the dungeons toward the stronghold, but his Hud flashed red.
[Warning: The four dungeons must be cleared before the stronghold itself can be accessed!]
"This just gets better and better," Annika muttered, her sarcasm barely masking the tension in her voice.
The dungeons pulsed as one, rousing to life, and a new message scrolled across their screens:
[The four dungeons represent the four aspects of the Forsaken Titan and his companions.]
The first dungeon's entrance cracked open, revealing jagged edges glowing faintly with light.
[This way for the General.]
Moyo's frown deepened. "We're expected to be separated. How is this remotely fair?"
A grotesque creature shimmered into existence behind them, wings spread wide and wielding a crystalline maul. It lunged forward but was obliterated in seconds by a coordinated attack. The group turned to examine the other dungeon entrances.
The next door pulsed with energy.
[Tier 2 Dungeon: Level 150.
Prime Aberrant: Kraegor, the Iron Juggernaut. Guard Lord of the Forsaken Titan.]
"And that one's mine," Josh muttered grimly.
The third and fourth dungeons revealed their details in turn:
[Tier 2 Dungeon: Level 150.
Prime Aberrant: Lyssara, the Wraith Blade. Unseen Blade of the Forsaken Titan.]
[Tier 2 Dungeon: Level 150.
Prime Aberrant: Voryn, the Blighted Flame. Lord Mage of the Forsaken Titan.]
Annika's grip on Stormpiercer tightened. "It's almost mocking us, don't you think?"
Moyo scowled, the weight of the system's design pressing down on him. "We could clear them one at a time, together. I'm not about to leave you all to fight these alone."
"And lose the chance to grow?" Annika countered, meeting his gaze. "The dungeons are tailored to our paths, Moyo. We can't afford to hold back."
Idris spoke, his tone steady. "We all have roles to play, and it's clear this is ours. The sooner we clear these, the sooner we get to that stronghold."
Moyo stared at the group, torn between his instincts to protect and the logic of their words. "Fine. But if I sense anything wrong, I'll tear through these dungeons myself. Rules be damned."
Annika's lips curved into a smile. "Wouldn't expect anything less."
One by one, they entered their assigned dungeons, their forms vanishing into the glowing portals. The moment Ayo stepped through, laughter echoed across the battlefield—a deep, resonant sound that chilled Moyo to his core.
In a blink, he found himself transported to a crystalline chamber. Towering red and silver crystals loomed above him like ancient sentinels, their light casting fractured patterns across the walls.
At the chamber's center knelt a massive figure, bound by chains as thick as ship anchors. Durnak, the Forsaken Titan. His molten amber eyes locked onto Moyo, burning with an unsettling mix of madness and clarity.
"Amusing, isn't it?" the giant rumbled, his voice like grinding stone.
A crystalline throne took shape before Moyo, its creation as effortless as breathing.
"Sit. I am harmless—for now. Until the system's game reaches its climax, we are but spectators."
Moyo tried to draw Ida but found himself unable.
"This is your doing?" Moyo growled. "The dungeons, the thralls—this madness?"
Durnak chuckled, the sound reverberating through the chamber. "No, young Titan. This is the system's design. I am merely its crucible, forged to test those who dare to claim the mantle. Come, let us watch your companions test their mettle. Perhaps then you will understand the cost of this path you tread."
Left with no choice, Moyo sat. The chains binding Durnak rattled ominously as the Forsaken Titan watched, his molten eyes gleaming with cruel anticipation.
*************************
Idris, General of the forces of Bastion and right hand to the Titan Blade, stood on a vast, desolate battlefield. The ground beneath him was sodden with blackened mud and ancient, dried blood. Broken weapons and shattered bones littered the landscape, brittle remnants of countless wars. Each step cracked the debris beneath his boots, the grim silence around him broken only by the occasional whisper of a cold wind. Above, the skies churned with dark clouds, streaked with the promise of rain or smoke from distant fires.
Gripping Earth Cleaver tightly, Idris pushed forward, his eyes scanning the eerie expanse. He passed relics of battles long forgotten, weapons too broken or alien for him to understand their use. A feeling of unease settled over him, an oppressive stillness that only deepened the further he went.
He wondered where the aberrants were hiding when his Hud blinked with a sudden notification:
[Zarnok, the Herald and General of Durnak, is the oldest and most loyal of his followers. Once a member of a long-dead race abandoned on the fields of battle, he was reborn by the Forsaken Titan, pieced together with the remains of his slain foes. Defeat him in a game of war. Seize his mantle and depose him as the general of the 'Titan.']
The ground trembled violently, the battlefield itself seeming to groan as something massive stirred beneath its surface. A raspy, hollow voice broke through the stillness, carried on the wind like the dying whispers of a forgotten age.
"Too long have I slept... Finally, my lord calls me to battle once again."
Idris turned, his eyes narrowing as the earth split open. From the bloodied soil, a monstrous figure emerged, shaking off the dirt and fragments of bone clinging to its grotesque frame.
Zarnok rose to his full height, his patchwork body a horrific amalgamation of bones and sinew. Jagged shards of crystal jutted from his form, pulsing with a faint red glow. His skeletal face was crowned with uneven, jagged horns, his hollow eye sockets blazing with malevolent crimson light.
Wings of skeletal remains, tattered flesh clinging to the bones, spread wide behind him, casting a shadow over the battlefield. In one oversized hand, he gripped a jagged staff that seemed more like an executioner's weapon than a general's symbol.
"You," Zarnok rasped, his voice like the grinding of stones. "Reduced to a mere advocate, I see. Does the system have no shame?"
Despite the vast gulf in their levels, Idris stood firm, his eyes meeting the soulless glow of Zarnok's.
Zarnok raised a crooked finger, and Idris's Hud flashed again:
[Rules of Engagement]
The battle will end only when one general falls in combat.The forces of the Forsaken General will outnumber the Blade General's two to one.Each general is given a stronghold to defend.The generals cannot clash outside the battlefield; their strongholds must be captured by their forces.
All around the field, the remnants of the fallen began to stir. Bones rattled and rose, given false life by an unseen force. Some glowed with crimson light, flying toward Zarnok's position, while others, dimmer and fewer in number, gathered around Idris.
"A thousand years ago," Zarnok began, his footsteps thundering as he advanced, splattering mud and blood with every step, "I stood at the Battle of the Lost Gates. My liege, victorious as is the way of Titans, stood before the Gates of the Monarchs to claim his rightful place among them. But treachery awaited him—betrayal by those who fancied themselves the pinnacle of the cosmos."
Zarnok spread his wings wide, releasing a blast of aether that suffused the battlefield with oppressive energy.
"Tell me, little general of a toothless Titan," he sneered, "do you truly believe you can stand against such a force?"
[Zarnok has unleashed skill: Call of the Last General.]
[All warriors of the Forsaken are now impervious to mana attacks and take 40% less damage from intent-based abilities.]
Idris glanced at the hundreds of soldiers now gathered at his side. Their forms glowed faintly with purple light, their empty eyes watching him in eerie silence. He tightened his grip on Earth Cleaver, scanning the battlefield for an opening.
"Why is your master called the Forsaken?" Idris demanded; his voice steady.
"Because the system he served," Zarnok replied, spreading his skeletal arms wide, "the hundreds of planets he liberated, all turned their backs on him in his moment of need. And for that, he burned them to husks. But you still haven't answered my question, little general."
Idris picked up a piece of twisted mithril armor, the weight of it heavy in his hands. "I may not know what happened all those years ago. I wasn't there. But I see what you've done here—what you've allowed to happen. Different forces have fought here, over and over, struggling against you. And every time, you've crushed them without mercy."
Idris locked eyes with Zarnok, his voice rising. "Tell me, Zarnok. What does it mean to be the general of a Titan?"
Zarnok's laughter boomed across the field, a sound like grinding bone and splintering stone. "And what would you know about that, child? Your world has barely left its cradle! Your Titan has dragged you into a battle you are hopelessly outmanned for!"
Idris ignored the taunt, his mind racing. As his eyes fell on one of the undead soldiers beside him, he reached out, his hand brushing its form—and a memory consumed his vision.
He was Jamut, Scion of the ancient Herandil house of the Eastern Yellow Empire. The murals of the Crystal Titan adorned his family's halls, a savior whose power had once liberated their world. But now, that same Titan sought their extinction. Jamut had taken up arms to protect his home, his family, against the sins of a once-great being.
The memory ended abruptly, leaving Idris breathless. He grabbed another soldier, and again, his mind was flooded.
He was Amalut, warrior priestess of the Old Sun Order. She and her sisters had sworn unbreakable oaths to always fight for good and for the Titans. But as the Crystal Titan's armies darkened her skies, she had shattered those oaths, taking up arms against the very being she had once revered.
Again, Idris wrenched himself free, the weight of countless lives pressing on him. He gasped, his hands trembling as he looked to Zarnok.
"Do you now understand, little general?" Zarnok growled, prowling forward. "Countless worlds depended on him. And when they turned their backs, he turned their betrayal into ash."
Idris raised Earth Cleaver, his voice firm. "And then what? He condemned entire worlds to die for the sins of the few?"
Zarnok's eyes blazed brighter. "Self-righteous fool. I was once like you, believing the universe could change. I followed his vision. And I watched it burn."
Zarnok slammed his staff to the ground, his horde surging forward.
"None of that matters now, little general. This—this is all that matters. Let us begin!"
Idris felt the ground beneath his feet tremble as the battlefield came alive. Bones rattled and snapped into grotesque forms as Zarnok's army began to rise. The towering herald of the forsaken titan watched him with glowing red eyes, his staff crackling with malevolent energy. The rules of this battle were clear: he was outnumbered, outmatched, and the enemy was fortified by abilities that negated his advantages. Yet, Idris knew this was not a battle of brute force.
It was a battle of wits.
As Zarnok's forces began to form ranks, Idris turned to his own army. His warriors were far fewer, their purple-lit forms radiating a feeble strength compared to the overwhelming presence of the crimson horde. But they were his, and they would follow his orders.
He gripped Earth Cleaver, raising it high above his head. "Warriors long dead forgotten! We may be fewer, but we are not weak! Look at them—mindless constructs driven by a hollow cause. We are more than that. Fight for me, fight for each other, and together we will carve through this tide, victory will be yours, for those forgotten, for those lost, for those who were betrayed by the one you called saviour "
The faint glow in their eyes brightened, their bodies straightening, sentience flooding their gazes. The connection to his soldiers became palpable, their resolve feeding into his own strength, names came to him unbidden, of their capabilities, of those few who were the best their worlds had to offer before they were wiped out.
Idris divided his forces into three groups, sending his swiftest warriors to flank the enemy stronghold. Zarnok's army surged forward, a monstrous tide of undead and crystalline constructs, their movements mechanical but precise. The first clash was brutal: Earth Cleaver slammed into the ground, sending a shockwave that shattered dozens of Zarnok's thralls. But for every one that fell, two more rose in its place.
Zarnok watched from the distance, a predator surveying its prey. "Clever, little general, but not clever enough," he muttered, raising his staff.
The thralls surged with renewed speed, pressing Idris's forces toward their stronghold. Idris cursed under his breath, pivoting his tactics. He pulled back his main force, drawing the enemy deeper into the center of the battlefield, forcing them into tighter formations where their numbers were less effective.
From his flank, the swiftest warriors struck, harrying the rear lines of Zarnok's army. Their hit-and-run tactics disrupted the enemy's coordination, but Zarnok responded quickly.
The thralls became impervious to magic attacks, and even physical blows seemed to glance off their reinforced forms. Idris gritted his teeth, signalling his flankers to fall back before they were overwhelmed.
Idris called his second-in-command, the one with the most sentient, a former lieutenant in the forces of the crystal titan and a keen-eyed warrior named Varek, to his side. "We can't beat them head-on. We need to lure Zarnok himself into the field."
"How?" Varek asked, his gaze flicking to the enemy's overwhelming forces.
Idris smiled grimly. "By making him think we're weaker than we are."
He gave the order: his troops feigned retreat, drawing closer to their stronghold. Zarnok, sensing weakness, advanced with his forces, leaving his own stronghold lightly defended.
"You're running, little general," Zarnok sneered, his staff glowing ominously.
Idris's forces gathered near the base of their stronghold, forming a tight phalanx. Zarnok's horde crashed into them, but Idris held his ground. Earth Cleaver swung with devastating precision, carving through the thralls. Then, at Idris's signal, his hidden flankers struck again, this time targeting Zarnok's unguarded stronghold.
Zarnok turned, his molten eyes narrowing as he realized the trap. "Impressive... but futile!"
The herald took flight, skeletal wings propelling him toward his stronghold. Idris gritted his teeth. This was the moment. "Hold the line!" he shouted, leaving his forces to intercept Zarnok mid-flight.
Their clash was seismic. Earth Cleaver met the jagged staff in a shower of sparks and force that rippled across the battlefield. Idris felt the weight of Zarnok's power with every blow, his arms screaming in protest, but he did not yield.
"You think you can defeat me, little general?" Zarnok growled, his strikes growing fiercer.
"I don't think. I know," Idris shot back, driving Earth Cleaver into the ground and triggering Roaring Cleave, a skill that sent jagged spikes of aura and intent upwards, piercing through Zarnok's wings and forcing him to the ground.
Zarnok roared in fury, his staff slamming into the earth as crimson energy erupted around him. Idris leaped back, barely dodging the blast. But he wasn't finished. He called on every ounce of strength, channeling his aura and intent into a single, devastating blow.
Roaring Cleave came down again with the weight of a mountain, shattering Zarnok's staff and cleaving through the herald's chest. Zarnok staggered, his skeletal form crumbling as the crimson glow in his eyes dimmed a little. The shards slammed into Idris as well as agony speared through him, all around him his forces fought for supremacy, holding the lines as he and the rapidly crumbling general fought a battle of ruthlessness, he, a mere peak acolyte, who had somehow been climbing the levels as he slowly overpowered Zarnok against a level 150 being.
As the battle wore on, Idris realized the truth of what was happening. He could feel it in every swing of the forsaken general's shattered staff and blows, in his roar of rage, and from one general to another, Idris understood as a glancing blow tore through his skin and deep into his shoulders even as he brought his axe down on Zarnok with his Severing Blow skill, watching the general withhold his skill, allowing Idris's skill to pierce through into his bones and straight to his core.
"You... fight well," Zarnok rasped, collapsing to his knees.
Idris approached cautiously, bleeding profusely as the forces of Zarnok shattered to dust, watching as a faint light pulsed in Zarnok's chest. His Hud flashed with a notification:
[Skill Acquired: Call of the Last General – Temporarily imbue your forces with enhanced resilience and tactical awareness, increasing their effectiveness in battle.]
[Durnak Skill Unlocked: Titan's Dominion – Manipulate the battlefield itself, controlling the terrain and even the weapons of your enemies for a brief period.]
As Zarnok's form disintegrated, Idris was flooded with a vision.
Zarnok stood on a battlefield long ago, watching as Durnak's forces burned another world to ash. For a moment, hesitation flickered in his molten eyes.
"This is not right," he whispered. "They were innocent..."
But the voice of the forsaken titan thundered in his mind. "They are guilty by association. Their existence defies my will."
Zarnok clenched his fists, his resolve faltering. "I should have fought you," he murmured, his regret carving into his very essence.
The vision faded, a faint one, but the pivotal point in the life of Zarnok, leaving Idris alone in the now-silent battlefield. The stronghold of Zarnok collapsed into dust, and Idris felt a surge of strength.
"You should have," Idris whispered to the empty air. "But your sins end here."
He turned, rallying his remaining forces, watching as they crumbled with a sigh of relief, not into bones again but to dust, floating around him in a swirl before settling on his skin as a jumble of writings he didn't understand. The battle was won, and the path to the next dungeon was now open.