Lo, and behold! The enemy approaches! Their numbers darken the horizon!

They have come to take over the mana node upon which this city stands, the most powerful mana node in the entire continent. Using its power, they will spread their taint, their corruption. They will create more abominations! This land will be cursed, will be poisoned. No one will be safe. Your families, your friends, every existence on this land will be destroyed.

This is where we make our stand! If this city falls, the whole continent will fall. All will be lost.

Our Great Emperor has set forth to vanquish Blight Incarnate. We are charged with holding this city until he is successful, and he will be! The question is, will we be successful as well?

We are outnumbered a thousand to one. More monstrosities will surely come in their thousands and tens of thousands. But aren’t we the pride of our kingdoms? The elite of the elite? Facing insurmountable odds is our calling. Come join me, my fellow warriors, in piling the bodies of our enemies higher than the city walls!

We will relieve these despoiled souls of their wretched existence!

Speech of Venerable Void Arch Magus Clement Tiberius on the First day of the Siege

(Sealed Imperial Records on Accounts of the Siege of Krysperium)

“These pork buns are really good,” Aya commented to no one in particular, while eating his third piece.

He took care while negotiating the busy streets of Krysperium, hugging the food basket close to his chest. No matter how much gold one has, they can never buy free food, he reminded himself. He reached for another piece from his basket.

He traveled on familiar streets and on less familiar streets. The roads were paved with some durable material that he did not recognize; it hardly shows any sign of the amount of heavy traffic that passed over it each day.

Fountains topped with intricate sculptures of great men and women greeted him at every intersection. Where modest houses once stood, mansions of opulence now occupy. Several businesses lined the avenues, a bookstore here, a tailoring there, a restaurant further up.

Guilds have also built their headquarters in the city. Merchants, blacksmiths, mages, adventurers, people from all over the empire have flocked to Krysperium to partake of its wealth and power. The deluge of people has not abated. City guards in their resplendent armor deterred any wrongdoing.

Water canals lined with blossoms traverse the whole city, climbing the highest of levels and flowing back down in serene cascades- a truly magnificent magical manifestation of aesthetic water manipulation.

“Those magical water works look awesome,” he said. Several rainbows formed where the water gushed to lower levels. “Why didn’t I think of this when we were building the city?”

He also noticed several banners floating above the streets. Obviously, they were enchanted. The conveyed messages of welcome to the visitors of the city for the festival celebrating five hundred years since the First Dragon Emperor saved the land.

It seems he was asleep for quite a long time, he thought, staring at a grand statue on top of yet another fountain. It depicted a muscular warrior with a raised spear riding a large tahlran.

“Who’s this guy?” Aya squatted down to look at the plaque at the edge of the fountain.

“Gwandelfir Ezic Horgmir- Vanquisher of the Froskan Ice Cavernfang. 183-246”

“Nice, a Cavernfang,” he said with mild approval. “But that’s not what I am looking for.”

He has passed several statues along the way, all of great men and women, heroes no doubt. All of them born decades after he began his slumber.

He picked up his food basket, now half-empty, and continued on his way.

“What the swarmey’s bumhole was that?” A young man pulled his robes around him and leaned in closer to the stream of data projected by a glowing green orb.

A suppressed snort came from beneath a pile of scrolls. “Swarmey’s bumhole? That’s a good one!”

A girl emerged from the pile. She tried to straighten out her frizzled hair and adjusted her glasses. “You’re making good progress on your project of making new expressions,” she told the lad by the green orb.

“Thank you for your kind praises my dear sister, Felixia. Did you know that swarmeys actually have two bumholes? Thus, my invocation of such body part as an expression of incredulity doubly emphasizes and highlights my disbelief!”

His sister’s face lightened up at the explanation. “Very clever dear brother, Felix!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands.

“What did I do to deserve being placed in the same team as both of you?” another man cried out dramatically. He twirled his golden locks with flair. “Noble manners are obviously unknown to both of you. I’m quite surprised you two were even allowed to be here.”

“Harvey, enough with the drama. Felix and Felixia, don’t bother swarmeys or their specific body parts.” A burly bald man stepped into the room. With one flick of his hand, the mountain of scrolls scattered around Felixia neatly arranged themselves into stacks by the wall.

Another wave of his hand activated several green orbs besides the one Felix was using. They all started to project numbers and graphs. The room was filled with a green glow from all of the orbs.

Harvey quickly stood up, straightened out his green robes and saluted the man who has just entered. “Good afternoon, Mentor Oswald, sir!”

“How many times do I have to remind you, Harvey? We are not military,” Oswald said, rubbing his temples. “This is just a room for observing and recording data from the mana node. And Mentor is just another term for babysitter of sealcrafter apprentices. Meaning, I make sure that you kids stay out of trouble while hoping that you somehow learn something useful in sealcrafting by observing the energy source of the most powerful seal in the empire.”

“Sir, Understood, Sir!”

Oswald paid him no mind. He turned to Felix and asked, “So what did you see that caused you to create a new expression?”

Felix placed his hands over the green orb in front of him. “Sir, I was checking the energy recordings of the mana node for this morning because I am sure that every bit of knowledge and experience that I gain here will be helpful in sealcrafting.”

Harvey gave a cough of disbelief. “You were just bor-”

“Harvey, let him finish,” Oswald warned.

Felix gave Harvey a smirk. He then tapped the orb that he was using, making it rise towards the center of the room. “As I was saying before I was interrupted by someone who doesn’t have noble manners.”

Oswald shot Harvey a stern look. The latter shut his mouth.

Felix continued, “I examined the recordings and found this.”

He waved at the projections of the other green orbs. They dimmed their lights and their floating data was pushed aside. He then touched a projected panel on his own orb and stretched his hands. The projection expanded into the size of the wall of the room.

“So what are we looking at, exactly?” Harvey said.

“It actually happened so fast that I was surprised we recorded it. It’s a good thing that I set the system to record data down to a hundredth of a second. Only someone with a clear presence of mind could have thought of doing it.”

“Felix, enough with the theatrical self-praise. You’re becoming like Harvey,” Oswald said.

Felix bowed and clapped his hands. “Lady and gentlemen, with great diligence I have found that for a fraction of a second…the energy stream from the mana node was… cut off.”

Everyone gasped. “Swarmey’s bumhole.”

The sun already withdrew its gaze, yet the city below seems oblivious to the enveloping darkness. Mana balls lining the streets lit up. Seats and tables were set up on the main streets, casks of ale were broken open; the patrons were settling down for the long night ahead.

The black robed man paid no attention to the celebrations around him and trudged on. He came upon a large open area with two monuments. One was a towering white pillar, the other was a large pyramid made of black glass. There were people here as well but the mood was a more serious atmosphere.

He placed his hand on the plaque of the white pillar.

“In memory of King Leopold of Vrastak and the one million and two hundred thousand of the Coalition Army who died in battle against the Blighted Multitude. Their actions proved crucial in the defense of Krysperium.

“Their unwavering bravery against millions of abominations shall forever be remembered.”

It was the memorial for the fallen during the battles against the Blighted Multitude. Aya has been searching for it since he has left the temple. There were people here as well, paying respects to the heroes of old. There was a solemn note hanging in the air in the middle of the tune of revelries.

“I never got to say thanks to Leopold for keeping his promise.”

He sat down in front of the pillar, placed his food basket by his side, and took the remaining meat bun. He spent a few minutes looking at the meat bun in the middle of the memorial square earning him funny looks from the people around him.

“Thank you, Leopold,” he said. He looked up at the top of the column and tried to remember the old king’s face. After five hundred years, he still hasn’t forgotten their meeting on the walls of the city. A meeting that both of them knew would be their last. Scars brought about by being too eager to draw first blood in battle marred the gruff face of the king. Despite the king’s suicidal tendencies, he survived many wars until his hair turned white.

“None of us were able to predict the size of the invasion, or that those bastards in the Union would get turned into those things,” Aya said, trying to justify the use of more than a million lives just to buy time. He wasn’t the one who ordered such action, not directly anyway. Was he at fault? No, they couldn’t have known at that time; that was certain. But what about afterward? Could things have turned out differently if Leopold retreated to the city?

No, the city would have fallen, they would just be delaying their deaths. Without the heroes, the city won’t be able to hold. But what if they didn’t garrison the city? What if they immediately went to the aid of Leopold? Unsound, strategically, but what if…

He sighed and gazed intently at the meat bun. So many ‘what ifs’, so many different scenarios that could play out. He could remember the heated discussions in the war chambers.

“But in the end we won, sort of. And, five hundred years after, that’s the only thing that counts. "

He finally took a bite out of his meat bun. Chewing slowly, he reminisced the last few days before Leopold set out.

“Quite a fine memorial they made for you and your guys here.” He looked up and examined the height of the tower. “A huge white pillar…If Bazz was here he would make a joke about old Leopold overcompensating or something like that. Ah, I really don’t make a good Bazz impression.”

He chuckled at his own joke. A couple of city guards looked over at him, eyeing him suspiciously. Noticing their gaze, he cheerfully waved at them. The guards dismissed him as harmless and continued their patrol route.

Aya turned his attention towards the other monument. In contrast to the seamless surface of the white pillar, the black glass surface of the pyramid was covered with golden inscriptions. Upon closer examination, the inscriptions turned out to be names, hundreds of names.

Slowly walking towards the black pyramid, he turned his eyes towards its peak. The main inscription was located at the top and it read:

“Eternal glory to the Dragon Emperor, eternal glory to the heroes who fell by the walls of this great city.

May the names of these brave champions live forevermore in our hearts.”

He skipped over the first name beneath the main inscription.

Looking at the succeeding names, he realized that they were members of the Dragon’s Chosen. Some of them died during the siege, the others died accompanying him in attacking the stronghold of the Blighted Multitude.

Clenching his jaws, he put a tight smile on his face. He realized that besides Khaine and Gobdruk, he did not know who else died from his chosen twelve. He did not know who died among the defenders of the city that he left behind. He willed himself to look at the names.

“Gisella de Chanterel, rumored to be the most powerful beastmaster despite having only four beasts bound to her,” Aya said, adding something he remembered about her. “You always were always the first to jump in battles, along with your annoying apes. If you died then that means those four also died. I was always annoyed at them for stealing my food. I never thought I’d miss them when they’re gone, those annoying devilish primates."

“Bartolomeo Joseph Griffon, dubbed the Crazy Alchemist. Such a fitting moniker! I will never forget our first meeting when you tricked me into drinking slime waste saying it was a Strengthening Potion.”

He had a hunch that Gisella and Bartolomeo probably had feelings for each other. During the Unification wars, they always paired up in attacking. Bartolomeo even cut back on using his potions to attack but rather focused on buffing Gisella’s apes into berserking behemoths. They probably died together, he concluded.

The next name was Khaine’s, Khaine Blackwell. Aya knew that Khaine knew that he would die during their assault. He closed his eyes to remember the final moments of Khaine. The latter had a very rare and special mana running through his system, and by imploding himself, the mana explosion punched a hole through the numerous magical defenses of the Blight Incarnate’s Keep allowing their team to push through at the expense of his life.

“The Golem Creator Isaac Gaomant also died?” Aya gasped upon reading the next name. “Then that would mean the entire Devastator Legion fell in battle.”

He tried to estimate the number of enemies they fought before they succumbed. In the wars they fought in the past, the casualties of the Devastator Legion never passed double digits. Isaac could easily replace those fallen Devastator Golems. To be able to wipe out a thousand of the most powerful golems would require millions upon millions to grind them down, considering they were fighting with the garrison of Krysperium.

“He probably took down a few million of those accursed things with him.” Aya recalled that Isaac always bragged about the number of enemies his golems killed in every encounter. He probably died with a smile on his face, ready to brag about his kill count in the next world.

Rebecca Ravenstone’s name followed Isaac’s. A very powerful Elemental Archmagus. She did not carry the title Venerable because she was quite young for someone who has reached Archmagus status, compared to Clement. She had so much potential; she would have surely outstripped the power of Clement had she not died. A great loss to the magic community. The two Archmagi would often wreck the battlefield before the enemy can shoot a single arrow into their lines.

Rebecca was also one of his Chosen that followed him in his assault on the Blight stronghold. She was still alive when he last saw her. They were separated in the maze of caverns that compromised the enemies’ fortress. He never knew what happened to the other members of the strike force that splintered off when they entered the opening that Khaine made. Now he did.

He was surprised at the next name. Gobdruk Bloodfist. Born of an orc father and a human mother. Gobdruk was loyal to the bone, always ready to lay down his life for the Dragon Emperor. Such devotion was a result of a life debt the half-orc owed him.

“You have paid off that debt long during the Unification wars, yet you still chose to be by my side. It’s good that your name was placed here.”

Aya did not expect that the name of Gobdruk to be included. While a large part of the populace was prejudiced against non-humans during his time, the offspring of a taboo union was especially hated. Aya never understood why humans did not get along well with other races. They don’t even get along well with each other. It was probably because the half-orc was a member of the Dragon’s Chosen that he was included in the war memorial.

His eyes ran down the list of fallen heroes. A name of someone he personally knew would jump out after a few lines. Others, he knew of them by their reputation.

His broke into a genuine smile as he reached Grammaton’s name. “That eccentric old man,” he said fondly. “He’s decades past retirement age and he hasn’t fully recovered from his injuries in the Sharjalan campaign. Sneaking into Krysperium after I expressly forbade him from fighting. Well, he always wanted to die on the battlefield.”

Further down were the names of the chief of the Darkhorn clan and his sons. The captain of the wyvern riders of Azhal kingdom. Belharus, the Old Sage of the West. Dixie and Pixie, the twin witches of Cloud Tower. The roc tamers of the Basadhi city-state. Hundreds of warriors that Aya once knew. Time passed while he was reading the names, willing to remember something about them, honoring them in his own way.

However, besides Gobdruk, no other non-humans or half-humans were included. High orcs, the lowland elves, the lizardmen of Surga, forest faeries, the Daelmares, and the beastmen of the Donorian Mountain Ranges. All of them sent their heroes to Krysperium. They were all welcomed with open arms by the Dragon Emperor into the capital city, despite grumblings by the other leaders. All the inhabitants of Forkspear city. It was, after all, his city.

Aya felt that the other races should have been included in the war memorial. They also fell defending the city. He vowed that he would personally seek them out and give his gratitude to their descendants.

“So many had to die. My heart grieves for all of them. Even the people from the Union of kingdoms that betrayed us. No one deserved what happened to them. So many, so many…” His voice trailed off as a lump caught up in his throat while he recollected the memories of the past war. The people of this generation would not be able to comprehend the number of people who succumbed to the Blight.

He hoped that history would not forget them as well, given that human history has a very selective memory.

“Mommy, mommy,” said a little girl, tugging at her mother’s dress.

“What is it, deary?”

“Why is that man with the basket crying?”

Her mother looked at where her child was pointing. “Don’t look at that man, deary. It’s best not to bother him”

“But he has a pretty basket.”

“Come with mommy. Let’s stay close to the city guards. Lots of weird people have come for the festival.” She then hurriedly picked up her child and walked away.

"I want a basket like that too, Mommy!"

The black robed man the girl was pointing to looked once again at the top of the pyramid. At the top of the list, he once again found the name that he used to carry. Heading the list of the brave champions that died during the war:

“Dragon Emperor KrystFallen.”

“And yet, here I am,” he smiled bitterly.