Chapter 103: Returning Home!
It was now past midnight as the whole drama had taken the whole day.
The moon cast its pale glow over the wreckage of the arcane lab, where broken stones and shattered memories now rested in heaps of silence. Steam still hissed from ruptured magical cores, the aftermath of a battle that shook more than just walls.
Lola was the first to step out—her footsteps silent, but her presence thundered like war drums. In Josh Aratat's absence, she rose—not by declaration, but by sheer force of will—as the leader they willingly followed. Just slightly behind her, Conrad Stan walked as her equal, the only one who shared her rank, her burden, and her unwavering loyalty to the fallen prince.
Lola's armor bore the blackened scars of battle, each scorch mark a silent witness to the chaos she'd endured. Her face—now partially revealed beneath her helm—was etched with exhaustion, but it wasn't just fatigue that weighed her down. It was pain. Deep, personal, and raw. Grief had chiseled sharp lines into her features, but it was fire—the fire of purpose—that still lit her eyes.
Like the other generals, she had removed her mask. There was no need for secrecy anymore. The mission, though costly, had reached its end. And in its wake stood warriors stripped of disguise, bearing only truth.
Behind her came Conrad Stan, eyes sharp, scanning the surroundings like a wolf guarding his pack. The other nine generals followed in tight formation—each of them changed, hardened not just by battle, but by loss.
The three generals—Lino, Miko, and Naze—who had remained behind to guard the Varnakian steed, stood unaware of the chaos that had unraveled just beyond their post.
They didn't know that their leader, Josh Aratat, was no longer in their world, trapped instead in another dimension entirely. They were simply waiting, expecting the return of their comrades so they could all ride home and resume the project they'd started together.
But reality has a cruel sense of humour. One moment you're riding high, and the next, the world flips—crushing you beneath the weight of truths you never saw coming.
And waiting for Lola and the other generals, outside the severely damaged arcane lab...was...—
A crowd.
A desperate, ragged, hopeful crowd.
---
Children who had been snatched from their homes—some still holding each other's hands, trembling in oversized robes.
Men and women—formerly prisoners meant to be used as ingredients for forbidden magical rituals, bearing bruises, shackles, and tear-stained cheeks.
And, strangely enough, former partakers of the toad god's cult—rogue sorcerers and potion-seekers, whose eyes now carried guilt and repentance. They had joined the revolt after witnessing the sickening cruelty behind the ritual they once blindly supported.
---
The moment Lola's boots touched the moss-covered stone threshold, a murmur spread through the crowd. Then, a singular—loud clapping.
Then cheers.
Then thunder.
Applause.
Not of celebration, but of liberation.
They clapped for the bravery they saw. For the lives that were spared. For the woman who had risked everything.
Some people wept. Others dropped to their knees in gratitude. A little girl even ran toward Lola and hugged her leg before her older brother quickly pulled her back with trembling hands, apologizing profusely.
Lola didn't speak yet. She didn't need to. Her very presence was louder than any war horn.
---
Faith That Waited
Many had already fled during the earlier chaos, long before the Trickster God's portal swallowed Josh Aratat. Fear had driven them into the deeper swamps—far from the broken ruins and echoes of war. They had no faith in fate, only in the instinct to survive.
Some feared the golden toad would recover and unleash vengeance, hunting down every escapee. Others sensed something darker—something worse—lurking beyond the portal, clawing its way into their world. For them, survival meant only one thing: distance.
But these ones who remained—these brave fools, these believers—had waited.
Not because they had to.
But because they wanted to.
They had stayed behind not to beg or demand—but to listen. To thank. To hear what their heroes would say.
Some knew they might not survive the coming storm, but they stayed anyway.
---
Conrad's Voice Cut Through the Silence
He stepped forward beside Lola, raising one hand—not just to call for quiet, but to gather the hearts scattered by fear. His time beside Josh Aratat had sharpened more than just his blade. The weight of command, the calm in chaos, the resolve to stand when others faltered—all of it had taken root in him.
In that moment, he wasn't just a general.
He was a pillar beside Lola, the second face of leadership.
"Everyone—listen up!" he called, his voice steady, cutting through the murmur like steel through silk.
The crowd quieted instantly, their eyes like moons, wide and full.
"We don't have all the answers," Conrad began, his voice rough with exhaustion, yet resolute. "But what we fought today… was only the beginning of something far worse."
He turned, gesturing to the shattered remains of the arcane lab behind them—blackened stone, scorched sigils, and the eerie residue of twisted magic.
"The Golden Toad was corrupt. That much you already knew. But what he unleashed with his dying breath…"
He paused. His jaw clenched. "…is something this empire has never seen. And may never survive."
A ripple of unease swept the crowd.
"The Trickster God…" someone whispered—then another echoed it.
"Trickster…"
"…from the Fifth…"
The name passed like a ghost between them. Murmurs built. Eyes darted. Even those who once stood by the Golden Toad—the partakers—grew pale and rigid.
The fear was no longer about oppression.
It was about what had been set free.
>"Our leader…" Conrad's voice caught, but he stood tall, pushing through the emotion. "The one who led us here—who fought beside us—has been taken… to another realm."
A hush fell over the crowd.
"But we're not giving up on him. And we're not giving up this fight."
His eyes scanned the faces before him—freed prisoners, former enemies, the hopeless, the wary, the brave.
"If you want to leave… we understand. You owe us nothing."
He paused, then let the weight of his next words settle slowly.
"But for those of you who know—who truly know—what the Trickster God is capable of… you understand that this empire will soon enter an age of chaos, war, and fear unlike anything it has ever faced."
Murmurs. Fear in their eyes. But also… resolve.
Conrad's tone grew sharper, stronger.
"We offer protection. We offer training. We offer purpose. If you choose to walk away, we wish you safety. But if you choose to stand…"
He turned, raising his voice now—clear, proud, unshaken:
"Know this: We are the followers of the Black Dragon."
The name landed like a hammer—gasps, widened eyes, even the partakers fell quiet. That name echoed across regions. A symbol of defiance. Of power. Of legend.
He pointed toward the trees—toward the unknown.
"If you choose to come with us—to rebuild, to fight, to rise—then follow. We'll find a place to rest. To regroup. And one day…"
He looked skyward for a moment, then back down, voice steady as steel:
"We'll bring our king back."
Lola as well as the other generals also nodded in agreement, as she looked at the little girl who had hugged her earlier. Then to the parents holding babies. Then to the ex-cultists.
> "We won't let the Trickster God have this world. We won't let the empire fall without a fight."
---
As The words hung in the air, it was now time for the crowd to make their decision.
Some stepped back.
Others nodded.
But a good number—more than they had dared hope—began to step forward. Women, men, teenagers, even two old mages who once brewed potion for the Golden Toad.
A movement had begun.
A rebellion.
A family forged not by blood—but by survival.
And above them, the moon turned its gaze toward the west, where a new shadow was spreading—a shadow that would soon become the Trickster God's empire.
With the decision made, Lola stepped forward, her voice rising like thunder.
"Let's move!" she commanded, her tone sharp with purpose.
Wasting no time, she turned and made her way to retrieve the three generals—Lino, Miko, and Naze—still guarding the Varnakian steed, unaware of the chaos that had unfolded.
Once reunited, they filled them in on the ndevelopments and missing knowledge, which shocked them greatly, then, each general mounted their horse in silence, the weight of their new mission pressing down like an invisible mantle. The once-scattered survivors and volunteers gathered behind them, falling into formation.
Without another word, the company turned east, hooves pounding against the scorched earth as they set off toward Brimhold City, the home of the black dragon base of Region 32—the only place left that could offer shelter, strategy… and hope.
Their leader was gone.
But their purpose had never been