The forty-third dusk descended over Kael El's domain, a violet-gold inferno fading into a blood-red haze across a 3,606-square-kilometer empire—seventeen territories fused into a relentless sprawl of forest, plains, mesa, desert, swamp, jungle, tundra, crypt, and molten wastes. The major city loomed behind the southern battlefield, its 90+ buildings a fortress of glowing Mist Cores, forges roaring as 1,688,000 subjects clashed in a symphony of steel and screams. Kael stood at the battle's heart, the Stormforged Blade dripping crimson, EX: Dragonflame Reaver a molten torch, Stormhide Armor fractured but unyielding. His flirty smirk cut through the ash, a cool dominance radiating as he flexed EX: Arctic Packmaster, frost wolves howling—Kryn's siege engines groaned under fire, Elynn's riders faltered, and he reveled in the chaos.