A day passed since Ira’s capture and Avery’s injury. Deep within the Valkyrie fortress, Lauren and Casey sat at Avery’s bedside. Raveria and Valeryn were also present with looks of devastation filling their faces.

“Is there any good news in all of this?” Lauren asked as she looked at Avery. The latter hadn’t awoken due to her exhaustion paired with the wound left by Harith.

“It isn’t a fatal injury but…” Casey trailed off.

“But?” Lauren raised an eyebrow.

“I can’t say when she’ll wake up and given the circumstances, we’ll be in trouble without her power,” Casey said with a sigh.

As she finished speaking, Valeryn rushed out of the room.

“Ryn!” Raveria hesitated for a moment, looking at her mother before chasing after him. If the Valkyries looked closer they would notice that determination were on the children's faces rather than sadness.

Avery’s body slightly stirred but she was still unconscious. The thick bandages wrapped around her shoulders began to redden.

“And healing magic won’t work?” Lauren approached Avery and caressed her face.

“No...At least, it doesn’t do much to help. She’ll have to heal on her own.” Casey answered once again. She didn’t fear for her daughter’s life but rather what would happen if they were to let Avery succumb to her wounds. Ira was unpredictable in that regard and there was no telling what he would do.

“We’ll have someone monitor her. In the meantime, we’ll coordinate our defense. If Ira’s words were true we shouldn’t have to hold out for long.”

Lauren and Casey left a few Dark Elves to watch over Avery and headed for the war room.

…

“Listen up you weaklings!” Harper shouted at the top of her lungs. “We are going to defend this place even if we die!”

She paced back and forth in an almost intimidating matter. It was just too bad her short stature made it seem a like a stage play of some sort.

Her audience consisted of hundreds of half-dragons, a few groups of lycanthropes, and at the very front:

Gerald clad head to toe in a set of heavy armor made from behemoth bone, a shield that almost covered his entire body, and grotesquely-shaped mace. Aldis with his two swords attached to his hip and Amy who stood next to him with an ornate red spear in her hands. Wilma, who was more commonly referred to as the Will of Purgatory, seemed clueless. Cibylla, a young half-dragon prodigy who was praised by the Valkyries and even Ira. And squeezed among, Zephyr who attempted to disguise himself by wearing a hood.

“Now, I know you aren’t the first choice. Or the second. But you are damn sure the third!” Harper mused with the airs of a veteran general. “Since all of you are so pitiful. I, the strongest out of all of you, will begrudgingly lead!”

Harper puffed out her chest at her own compliment, ignoring the strange look coming from Aldis.

“Gerald!” Harper pointed her metal baton at him. “You are in charge of holding the line! If anyone gets past you I’m going to cut your heart out and eat it.”

“Hmm,” Gerald gave an aggressive grunt in reply. His current predisposition was a bit more violent due to the large quantities of behemoth’s blood he was given in order to strengthen his body.

Of course, since Charles was overseeing it there was no way he would stop with just that. He found a few willing lycanthropes and added their blood in the mix in order to see what would occur. The result? Gerald would temporarily gain a weaker version of the abilities of the Lycanthropes and incredible strength as long as he continued regular consumption of the mixture. The plan was to slowly wean Gerald off of the concoction and return him to normal after the war ended as he was likely to become addicted to it.

“I don’t want any backtalk!” Harper narrowed her eyes at him.

“Hmph,” Gerald grunted again but Harper nodded with approval as if it was different than previously.

“Aldis and Amy! You lovebirds will be at the head of the strike team. You’ll meet the invaders head on so be prepared!” Harper ordered.

“Got it.” Aldis and Amy nodded together.

“Got it what?” Harper questioned.

“...Ma’am?” Aldis sounded uncertain as he answered but Harper nodded vigorously.

“Wilma!”

“Ah, yes? What do you require of me little- no, ma’am?”

“You’re with me!” Just as Harper was about to wrap up her orders she spotted someone close to the front of the crowd who looked familiar.

“Hey, you! Take off your hood.” Harper pointed her baton in Zephyr’s direction which caused him to jump in fright. He was about to make his escape when-

Rhys appeared with a flash of lightning behind her. Her white pupils rapidly scanned over the crowd and she soon found Zephyr without much effort.

“What the–” Harper seemed upset to be interrupted but Rhys paid her no mind.

Rhys took a step forward and appeared next to Zephyr in the blink of an eye.

“Mom, no, I want to help!” Zephyr cried out as Rhys grabbed him and lifted him up.

She silently shook her head while furrowing her eyebrows at him. Her worry, anger, and concern were all transmitted with that simple expression which made him frown.

“I can help...Dad needs my help.” Zephyr muttered weakly.

Rhys hugged him tightly, showing her understanding of his emotions. She conveyed it all through the silent and pained look on her face.

‘It’s too dangerous, Zephyr.’ Rhys mouthed quietly.

“But– I’m strong! Even Valeryn thinks so! I don’t want to be treated like a kid anymore, I want to help.” After reading her lips, Zephyr grew upset and struggled out of her grip.

The entire crowd made space since Rhys and Zephyr’s statuses were quite high in the eyes of everyone under the Dark Elf Empire.

“It’s true.” Valeryn’s voice resounded from far off.

“You too? Can’t you see I’m in the middle of something?” Harper mumbled to herself.

“Zephyr can help and I can watch him. I can protect us both.” He tapped the worn hilt of his rapier with assurance.

“No, I’ll be protecting you both. Since our Mom is hurt we need to help.” Raveria body slowly phased into sight from thin air.

“Again?” Harper dropped her shoulders in defeat as her command seemed to be upstaged by the appearance of her relatives.

Before Rhys could show any sign of refusal Harper chimed in to shift the spotlight back to her.

“Fine! I’ll allow all of you to participate under two conditions. One, you must absolutely ensure your own safety above all else. And two…”

Harper paused and the silence made it seem as if she was about to impose some weighty stipulation. “...If Ira finds out you can’t tell him that I let you fight. Under no circumstances should you ever tell on me.”

She tilted her head up unashamedly, ignoring the varied reactions given by Ira’s children and even Rhys.

…

Meanwhile, preparations for the siege of the Underground City were being made. First, the Unified Army needed to get down into the small canyon where the entrance was located. It was no easy feat as the Dark Elves sabotaged the lift that was usually used. Second, in an already narrow battlefield, they had to get through the entrance of the city. The huge iron door which sealed it away was a small obstacle. The final and most important detail was Randolph.

“Is it almost ready?” Harith gripped at his chest as he posed the question.

“It is.” An Angel at his side answered.

They turned their attention to Randolph who was laid on a golden altar. It was unnecessary, but in preparation of welcoming a God, it would be best not to skip on pleasantries.

“Make sure the mortals act in accordance lest they find themselves slaughtered on the spot.” Harith sent one of the lower-ranked Angels off to announce the arrival of a God that would be “inhabiting” Randolph’s body in order to bring the war to a close.

There would be skepticism but that was only until the God arrived. Once it did, no one would be able to raise a word of doubt.

Randolph’s body was covered in an intricate suit of armor with the Godsteel blade placed in his grip.

“Then we shall wait.” Harith and the other Angels began to kneel in front of Randolph.

After that, it was hard to say how much time had passed but they didn’t move a single inch. In fact, more Angels arrived to prostrate themselves and eventually something began to happen.

A golden light shined from the sky on the tent where the Angels were and the entire army turned their eyes to that spot. Some people immediately dropped down in prayer while others were too stunned to react.

Either way, the golden light shined bright before a loud explosion occurred and the tent was ripped away. All the while, Randolph’s body began to undergo some...changes. His hair turned long and golden while the shape of his face moved to reach perfection. There was also a divine golden light shining from his eyes. His body grew to some extent, making him taller and far significantly more muscular.

The Angels in close proximity witnessed those changes with their eyes and they groveled fervently.

Randolph opened his eyes and slowly began to sit upright. His eyes were half closed as if he was unaware of what was going on. It was only when he climbed down from the altar did he gain clarity.

“Ah, I see.” A deep voice emerged from Randolph’s mouth. He examined his hands and took a step forward, the weight of his presence was perceivable and his smallest action seemed to make the earth tremble.

“It’s been so long since I’ve felt this feeble,” He clenched and unclenched his hands again before looking out at the millions who suddenly kneeled before him.

“Mortals.” His eyes were completely indifferent and their worshipping made no difference to him.

“Hear me.” His voice suddenly increased in volume, burrowing into the souls of the listeners. “I am Rythar, The God of Might and Righteousness.”

As he finished, the Unified Army began praising his name. Millions of voices echoing together in a chorus. Until they suddenly quieted down which surprised Harith.

“These mortals dare!” Harith was shocked at how fast the mortals stopped their praises. A measly few seconds wasn’t enough to encapsulate the divine being who stood in front of them in his eyes.

Even Rythar slightly frowned. The Mortals previously had a loose following of religion. There were so many Gods that they couldn’t all be named so usually the Mortals prayed to whatever ambiguous figure lorded over their particular need. Gods of justice, harvest, love, etc.

Then, in another show of disrespect, the mortals began whispering.

“Silence!” Harith screamed at them viciously.

They grew quiet, but their eyes were no longer focused on the incarnation of a God that stood in front of them. Rather, they all focused on the Tartarus.

“Just what is it that draws their attention so?” Rythar turned around and then he saw it.

The magnificent creation the Gods made to capture Ira was beginning to emit a faint black mist. Each segment of the sphere was spinning like a puzzle cube. The speed increased and so did the volume of black mist being released.

“The Avarus.” Rythar frowned.

Ira’s threat was still fresh in his mind. His promise to kill the Gods. He didn’t take it seriously at all but seeing a divine creation struggling to contain Ira began to make him reconsider how they saw the Avarus.

“I want that city taken and its people killed. Only spare those who are directly related to the Avarus so I can kill them myself.” Rythar ordered Harith who responded with a belated nod.

Then, Rythar approached the golden altar and slammed his palm on it causing it suddenly changed into a magnificent throne that even a King would find too lascivious. He took his place on the throne and it slowly rose into the sky.

“Do not disappoint me, Mortals.” Rythar’s voice echoed across the sky like thunder. There was no one who would dare disobey his will.

And at that moment, the siege of the Underground City finally began.