The evening sky burned red, casting an orange glow upon the great stone walls of Emerald Kingdom. Heavy gray clouds hung low overhead, as if holding back rain that could fall at any moment. The air was cold, dry, and heavy... adding to the anxiety pounding in the chests of every soldier and hunter standing behind the massive kingdom gates.
From the distance came the sound of heavy, steady marching—like thunder shaking the earth itself. The vibrations crept into the fingertips of the guards atop the walls, raising the hair on their skin.
The orc army had come.
Hundreds... no, thousands of orcs stood assembled on the field before the gate. Tall, massive, their bodies thick with muscle, skin pale gray tinged with green. Some held large, rusted axes; others gripped spiked clubs still wet with old blood, or jagged, crude swords. Their crimson eyes burned wildly, staring at the gate as if they would rip apart whatever lay beyond.
Silence.
The kingdom's soldiers behind the walls stared out with tense faces. Some swallowed hard. Young hunters in the rear ranks exchanged nervous glances.
"So many... far more than the scouts reported..." whispered one young soldier.
"...do they intend to wipe us all out?" murmured another hunter softly.
The distant rumble of orcish feet still echoed faintly, though they had halted right before the kingdom's gate. The sound of twilight felt hollow. The wind carried the scent of iron and old blood—the scent of battle.
Suddenly, from the line of hunters, a tall man stepped forward, clad in gleaming black and silver armor catching the last light of day. It was Gareth, Rank A Hunter—the finest warrior of Emerald Kingdom. His face was harsh, scarred, but his sharp eyes burned with unyielding spirit.
He stepped into the open yard, raising his sword high. The red glow of dusk reflected off the blade, dazzling all who looked upon it.
"Listen to me, all of you!" he shouted, his voice cutting through the fearful whispers among the ranks, ringing sharp in the cold evening air.
"Do you know who we are?!"
Every head turned toward him—hunters, kingdom soldiers, even the guards atop the walls.
"We are not cowards hiding behind these walls! We are the shield of this kingdom! We are the last defense of our families! Our children, our wives, our elders... they are all behind these walls! If we fall, they all fall with us!"
A low murmur began to rise among the soldiers—whispers turning into hissing courage.
"Look at them!" Gareth pointed his sword toward the orc lines. "They think we are weak, easy to crush! Today... they will learn who we truly are!"
Some of the younger hunters lifted their weapons. Faces that had been pale now showed the fire of resistance.
"Now is our time to shine!" Gareth shouted. "To show the world... that Emerald Kingdom cannot be touched by monsters like them! We stand here not to die—but to win! To live! For the future of our children!"
A low cheer slowly broke out.
"For Emerald Kingdom!" cried one soldier.
"For our families!" shouted another hunter.
"For our kingdom!" their voices rose in unison.
The lines of soldiers began to tighten. Shields lifted, spears stood tall, swords drawn. The ranks of hunters behind them formed neat battle lines. The air now bristled with courage, slowly pushing away the fear that had crept in before.
Atop the walls, archers readied their bows, arrows nocked and aimed toward the orc ranks. Behind them, the sounds of children's cries and women's hurried steps faded into the distance as the evacuation continued.
Emerald Kingdom was ready to stand.
At the front lines stood three young figures, their faces serious: Arthur, Kaela, and Lucifer.
Arthur—a young soldier with a strong build and dark brown hair—took a deep breath. His greatsword rested upon his back, his sharp eyes watching the orcs' every move.
"Kaela, Lucifer... stay in position. Don't act rashly. Follow my orders. This is no longer training," he said sternly.
Kaela nodded slowly. Her silver hair braided back, her staff trembling lightly in her grip. Her lips whispered protection spells, trying to steady her shaking body.
"I'm ready, Arthur... I won't run," she said, though her eyes betrayed her tension.
Meanwhile, Lucifer—a youth with messy black hair, twin enchanted daggers at his waist—turned his face aside. His eyes burned with fierce spirit, unlike Kaela's anxious calm.
Arthur stepped closer. "Lucifer... you know you should be in the back, helping with the evacuation. This is too dangerous for you. Gareth said so..."
Lucifer snorted loudly.
"I don't care!" he snapped, full of emotion. "I won't hide in the rear, Arthur. I'm a royal hunter too. If I die... at least I'll die protecting the children's smiles."
Suddenly, the memory of this morning returned to them.
At dawn, Gareth had called Lucifer aside at the barracks.
"Lucifer... don't join this battle. You're still Rank E. This battlefield is no place for you. Let the experienced ones fight on the front lines."
But Lucifer had met his gaze with blazing eyes.
"I can't stand aside. If I don't go... who will protect my friends at the front? I'm ready to die if I must. I won't run!"
Gareth had simply fallen silent, staring at the stubborn youth. Then sighed, and let him go.
Now on the battlefield, Arthur glared at him.
"If you die... I'll kill you again in hell," he muttered anxiously.
Lucifer grinned crookedly. "If I die... I'll apologize to you there."
Kaela turned to them, trying to smile despite her nerves.
"You two... even now you can still joke around."
Behind them, the lower-rank hunters—Rank D and below—were busy herding the civilians into the inner fortress. Children clung to their mothers; soft sobs echoed in the distance, tugging at the heart. The shouts of the guards were firm but hurried and orderly.
That evening... Emerald Kingdom truly prepared to face the coming storm.
As the army tightened its formation, the sound of hooves echoed from behind. Slowly but surely, the sound grew closer. All eyes turned.
A man riding a tall black horse emerged from behind the kingdom's forces. His golden hair gleamed under the setting sun, making him appear radiant among the shadows of the walls. His sharp golden eyes brimmed with authority, staring straight ahead without doubt. A faint scar marked the corner of his lips, adding to the hardened look on his handsome face.
He was Drako, King of Emerald Kingdom.
The entire force instinctively made way. Silence fell. Every gaze fixed upon him.
Gareth stepped forward, bowing slightly. "Your Majesty Drako..." he greeted.
Drako glanced at Gareth, offering a faint smile.
"Do not worry, Gareth. I will not let them lay a single finger on my kingdom," he said calmly, full of confidence.
Gareth exhaled in relief. "Your courage strengthens us all, Your Majesty."
Drako nodded slowly, then looked upon his gathered troops.
"Those who stand before me today... are the shield of this kingdom," his voice rang out, echoing through the entire gate. "I am proud of you all. Today we defend our home. Our families. The honor of Emerald Kingdom."
A faint cheer stirred among the ranks. Confidence slowly returned to the soldiers.
After his brief address, Drako gently pulled his reins and rode forward... to the very front.
The evening air grew heavier. The wind whispered softly, carrying the scent of iron and the trampled earth beneath thousands of orc feet.
Now Drako stood at the forefront. No shield. No guards. He faced the horde of orcs alone.
All was silent.
King Drako stared straight ahead at the monstrous horde. His voice rang loud and clear, breaking the quiet of dusk.
"Orc army!" he called. "You have come to the lands of Emerald Kingdom... Our land. Our kingdom. Why do you stand here with weapons drawn?! Speak! What do you want?!"
His voice rolled across the field, reaching the ears of every orc.
Some orcs growled low. Others pounded their chests with their massive fists. Then... from the middle of their ranks, a huge figure slowly stepped forward.
The earth trembled with every footfall.
It was Azog, the Orc Chieftain.
Taller than any other orc, his skin pale as ash, crisscrossed with scars and old gashes. No armor. Only worn leather trousers hung from his waist. His broad chest bore countless marks of battle.
His gaze was cold, filled with hatred. His wide mouth grinned, revealing sharp fangs.
Drako met his eyes, unflinching.
Azog growled low, then opened his massive mouth.
"We have come... to take what is RIGHTFULLY OURS!" his deep, heavy voice rumbled, shaking the ground.
The human soldiers stirred. Some glanced at each other in worry.
Drako narrowed his eyes. "Your right? What right do you claim, orc? This land belongs to mankind. It was built by our hands, our blood, our sweat. What could you possibly claim here?!"
Azog grinned wide. Drool trickled from the corner of his mouth.
"This land... Emerald Kingdom... was once the land of the Orcs!" Azog roared. "Before your filthy kind came, this place was our hunting ground—our ancestral land! Your ancestors stole it from us... burned our villages... drove us north! Today... we have come to take back what is rightfully ours!"
Silence. His words pierced the ears of every human soldier.
Drako frowned. "Our ancestors? You speak of times centuries past. That is history! The world has changed, orc. This kingdom rose from ruin. We built these walls, these villages, these families! You cannot demand the past that time itself has buried!"
Azog snarled in fury. "The past? There is no past for orcs! Our wounds are eternal! We do not forget! We do not forgive! Today... Emerald Kingdom will fall... and this land will return to the Orcs!"
A savage cheer erupted from the orc horde behind him. The pounding of axes on the ground, the roar of bloodthirsty voices filled the air.
Drako gripped the hilt of his sword tightly. His eyes burned bright.
"You want war... then you shall have it," he whispered softly. Then louder: "Emerald Kingdom will never yield! We will fight to the last drop of blood!"
Azog raised his massive hand, pointing toward the gate.
"Then prepare... TO DIE!" he roared.