Before The Storm

1 Year Before The Fall

West-North of the Phoenix Empire — the Dukedom of Surge (House Aren).

“Is this certain?” The Duke paced hastily across his sumptuous carpet, his boots already carving a visible path into the fabric.

“It is certain, my Grace. They tried to conceal it, but... we are indeed losing on all fronts.”
Lucas, the Duke’s loyal knight and right hand, stood with his head bowed. His expression was composed, his voice steady. Yet there was a strange undertone to his face — something unreadable, calculating. Unlike the Duke, who looked aged and withering, Lucas seemed firm, even quietly resolute — as though already planning his next step.

“Oh, Lucas. I am worried. Gravely so. And that is not the worry of some old woman chattering in the market square. This does not look good for us. I’ve read the reports. I’ve seen the maps. Our army may soon be crushed. They slaughtered the elves. And now this? What can we possibly do?”

The Duke stopped pacing, rubbing his temple.

“Rain has only just married. I had hoped it might free him from all that weight on his shoulders — that perhaps, with time, he might find some peace. But time is the very thing he now lacks…”

He turned, his voice trembling but resolute.

“Still, we must prepare. Even if we perish, he must survive. He and his wife. They must escape the worst of it. And Aren’s blood cannot be allowed to vanish into the void. The first Emperor — the one who brought the Empire to its golden age — his lineage cannot end here. That would be a disgrace to our house. It would be unforgivable.”

The Duke straightened with sudden clarity.

“We need to secure the escape route. Reinspect the hidden passage. Make sure it’s wide enough for a cart — if it isn’t, expand it. Build a chamber there. Stock it with food, weapons, whatever you deem necessary. You know better than I do what’s required.”

Lucas bowed. “It will be done, my Grace.”

The Duke nodded, then turned toward the window.

There, in the garden below, lay his only son, Rain, reclining lazily on the grass beside his wife Amanda. They looked carefree, detached, as if the world beyond the hedges did not exist. Rain had never cared for politics or diplomacy. He shunned court life, disdained noble manners, and found companionship only in some crude adventurer of his own age. Amanda, for her part, was merely the daughter of a baron. The Duke had agreed to the match reluctantly —more for his wife's pleading than for his son's, who had hidden behind her skirts to get what he wanted

Rain had always feared him, for reasons the Duke never quite understood. The boy was timid, awkward, barely able to speak to anyone beyond his mother, his wife, or that barbaric friend of his. He’d never shown any talent or ambition worthy of his name. The Duke loved him, yes —but as a father, not a person. And certainly not as a successor.

“My Grace,” Lucas said quietly, “one more thing. You’ve received an invitation from the palace.”

The Duke didn’t turn around. “Let me guess. A ball.”

Lucas gave a nod.

“That foolish peacock of an Emperor truly believes he can waltz his way through catastrophe. Empty promises, hollow optimism... If not for his wife, the Empire would have collapsed a decade ago. When is it?

“In a two month.”

“Tell him I regret that I am unable to attend, owing to my frail health. Perhaps when the unsafe environment around me stabilizes I may pay him a visit.”

Lucas bowed once more and departed silently.

The Duke stood in the golden light of dusk, hands clasped behind his back.

“I wonder how many of the Empire’s heroes will remain,” he murmured to no one. “I’d run, if I were them. Better to live as a deserter than die for a fool. What an inglorious death that would be.”

10 Months Before the Fall

Southern Phoenix Empire — one of the Empire’s primary warfronts.

The spear flew with a whistle, slicing through the tide of darkness swarming the battlefield. Centaurs and humans stood side by side — the last hope of the mankind. These were the brave the final line standing between the living world and the encroaching void. When all seemed lost and the darkness surged forward, he descended like a storm. A blue-haired blur, tanned skin, red eyes blazing with determination — the hero Gerald. The one who tore through enemy ranks with a single throw.

A blur tore across the blood-soaked field. Gerald ran after his thrown weapon, leaping from one enemy’s head to another, scanning for where his intervention was needed. As he landed among the enemy ranks, a shockwave burst outward. Soldiers of the darkness were flung back like leaves in the wind.

His alias — Sweeping Wind — was earned for a reason.

He pushed off the ground and landed just before a dark elf who had been wreaking havoc on the allied ranks, stalling their momentum and thinning their numbers.

A dark elf stepped forward, blade drawn and teeth clenched

“You think you, filthy human, can sto— “

Unfortunately, the dark elf never finished his sentence. A hole in his chest prevented him from doing that. And not just him — Gerald’s single strike tore through several others. One of the Empire’s generals, standing nearby, later swore he saw twelve bodies collapse in the wake of that one attack. Gerald leapt over the falling dark elf and caught his spear mid-air, raising it high.

The army roared with renewed spirit.

“Hero Gerald! Hero Gerald! Hero Gerald!” The chant thundered across the battlefield. Even the Dark Alliance seemed to flinch at the sound of his name.

That night, Gerald patrolled the edge of camp. The moon hung low and quiet, casting long shadows over the exhausted soldiers.

“Sir Gerald, it's late. You should rest,” said the bald general with the scarred face and two missing fingers. “We’ve got eyes on the perimeter. You’re needed on the field, not on the night watch.”

Gerald sighed, gaze fixed on the enemy campfires in the distance.

“We can’t let our guard down. Not with them around.” Gerald sighed, “Those fellows won’t let me sleep until I reduce their numbers to zero. Hah… I wish Gladius was here. Doesn’t even feel like I’m doing anything.”

He scratched his head, visibly irritated.

The general chuckled and walked beside him.

“You’re too hard on yourself. You’ve held this front longer than anyone else. When the Emperor sent you as our only reinforcement, I thought it meant he’d given up on us. But I was wrong. You saved this army, young man. I may be old, but I’ve never seen a soldier like you.” He paused outside Gerald’s tent. “You’re the youngest hero in the Empire. I can’t wait to see the day when you reach the heights of the Great Heroes.”

Gerald smiled faintly, his expression tinged with exhaustion. He bowed his head.

“If I live that long.”

The general patted his back.

“You will. You’ve still got a long road ahead. Me, on the other hand…”

He looked up at the stars.

“Be careful tomorrow. Our scouts say one of His children may appear.”

Gerald’s gaze sank, heavy and unreadable.

The general clenched his fists to stop the tremor in his hands. He sighed.

“It could be just a rumor,” he added quickly. “Sometimes scouts voice their fears and conjectures instead of facts. It’s hard to distinguish between the two — but I hope it’s only rumors. Still… be ready.”

The two men exchanged a quiet nod, and the general turned to leave.

Gerald entered his tent and collapsed onto the cot, letting out a long breath.

“One of His children, ha-ha. Oh dear mother…” Gerald looked exhausted, In those rare moments of rest, his face could no longer hide how deeply tired he was. The main challenge wasn’t surviving the battlefield — it was waking up, getting up, and pretending to look fresh and optimistic in front of all the other soldiers.

“When was the last time I had a real bath? Or a tart from Mother’s oven... gods, her tarts… When was the last time I even held a hand of my… Ugh…” Gerald closed his eyes.

“Why do I have to carry this burden for someone like him?”

The next day brought another battle. The Child did not appear.

And yet the bloodshed never stopped. One battle blurred into the next. No progress was made. Everything was the same.

But still, thanks to Gerald, they held the line.

Until one day…

The Child of His finally stepped onto the battlefield.