Prologue

" Without a sigh , his sword , the brave man draws ;

And asks no omen but his country's cause "

----Alexander Pope

Northborn Kingdom

Frontier City of Vigan

Death Valley

A great battle is about to unfold in the historical valley just in front of the City of Vigan. Countless soldiers: mages, archers and mercenaries alike face off in the middle of the valley with contradicting reasons, for one , to protect their homeland, for the other, to establish power and dominance. From numbers to equipment, the defending soldiers of the City of Vigan cannot compare to the imperial legion of the Byzantine Empire. Yet, in the faces of the defending soldiers, though filled with the sense of grave danger, there is hope and bravery. Even though they face against a great storm, with the chances of complete annihilation as clear as the sunlight that shines through the whole battlefield, they did not falter nor cower under the might of the so called strongest army of the continent, because they know there is still hope and that hope lies in a man each one of them treats as their nephew. Yes, the son of their deceased commander whom went through life and death, through thick and thin with every one of them. They know their "nephew" is coming.

With their morale soaring to the sky, they fight with all their might to hold on until help arrives, until he arrives. With mages and archers firing arrows and casting spells towards the enemy , and warriors engaged in close combat with their swords , with each side taking countless casualties, you can see how bloody the battle is. With dwindling numbers , the defending soldiers are still fighting with all their might, still carrying that sliver of hope as they face off against the enemy. Then, on the pale faces of the defending soldiers, you can see a glint, a smile.

At the middle of the battlefield, suddenly, a single strand of lightning streaked and tore through the sky as it hit the ground. As the dust settled, you can see a man clad in shining leather armor, plated with gold and carved with intricate designs of draconian scales , a perfect armor for someone who prefers agility and flexibility rather than defense. In his left hand is a silver one-handed sword, with a luster so bright and exquisite, and in its handle is an elegantly carved dragon. In his right hand is an ancient tome, with inscriptions etched on its cover, an aura of archaicness and killing intent covering its entirety. Seeing this man brought fear on the enemy, and with the killing intent coming from him and that book made their hair stand on end, but to the defending soldiers, hope is what he brought.

"Uncles, sorry for being late, let me take it from here. " His words echoed throughout the whole battlefield as the defending soldiers carried their fallen comrades and retreated to the safety of their fortress, not even having the hesitation to not follow his orders, fully trusting his skill to take care of the enemy.

With his comrades already a safe distance away, he flicked his right hand as the archaic book in his hand started to emit a buzzing sound, accompanying it are the screams of the enemies as lightning arced through their bodies. Then, his left hand shuddered as a light suddenly shines at the tip of his sword, illuminating the entire battlefield, bringing with it a comfortable feeling to the people of the fortress, healing their wounds, even saving those at the brink of death. With a flash, he moves through the enemy's ranks, his sword enveloped in lightning , the ancient book giving off surges of scorching fire , killing off every person who comes on his way. Geysers and lava constantly coming out of the ground from where he stepped as the enemy's mages cast their spells to counterattack, compromising the safety of their fellow soldiers, a sacrifice they're willing to make. Yet, not a dent is seen on his leather armor, still shining in magnificence as an elemental armor completely made of water covers him.

With their dwindling numbers, the enemy starts to feel fear, starts to cower and retreat from this monster. With a sound of a trumpet blowing , rows and rows of soldiers scurries to the opposite direction, trying to preserve their lives. They came with a humongous number of a million soldiers, leaving with only just 50,000. A huge number of casualties and a dropping morale is what their leaving with.

Cheers started to ring out in the fortress as another explosion sounds out in the middle of the battlefield, losing the trace of the man which have done this miracle.