Heroes of Etheron

It's early morning. An urgent horn blared across Mirdia's front line base—short, sharp, and unmistakable. War was coming.

Arriel stood outside the barracks, his fingers clenching his belt. Lira emerged from the shadows beside the gate, calm but alert. The tension in the air was thick as smoke.

A soldier sprinted past them, shouting, "Theodor's army spotted! All units, prepare for deployment!"

Commander Elle addressed the Heroes Division quickly, her feline ears flicking with urgency. "This is not a drill. We move immediately. You will be briefed in motion."

Within minutes, the Mirdia Heroes Division boarded six hover trucks, their magic engines glowing as they sped toward the front. Arriel sat silently inside the truck, Lira seated across from him.

Soon, the trucks stopped and everyone take their position.

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The dawn mist lingered like a curtain over the Mirdian borderlands. Arriel stood among rows of soldiers and heroes, the air thick with anticipation. The stony plain ahead stretched toward the horizon, where Theodor's forces now approached in the distance—marching with mechanical precision.

"Formation hold!" Valtheas commanded, his voice carrying across the ranks. He sat tall atop a dark armored horse, his cape fluttering, and his silver status bracelet glinting a chilling '50' for all to see. Beside him, his monstrous hound stood alert, sniffing the air.

Mirdia's army was arrayed and ready: 7,000 regular soldiers, 200 human-sized steel golems, 20 unmanned magic tanks, and the 110 heroes of Mirdia's newly-formed Heroes Division. Among them, Arriel and Lira stood side by side. Both were focused, though tension clung to them like a second skin.

Across the battlefield, Theodor's army formed: 9,000 soldiers, 50 unmanned tanks, 100 Giant steel golems, and 150 Special Heroes Army. The air grew heavier as mana hummed between the two powers like a taut string.

Without warning, a volley of explosive magic rounds tore across the field. Theodor's tanks had fired first.

"Advance! Defend the border!" Valtheas thundered, his aura crackling.

The battle erupted.

Golems clashed with golems. Tanks launched blinding barrages. Foot soldiers charged. Explosions ruptured the earth. Arriel darted forward with Lira, focusing destructive spells on enemy tanks and golems. When Theodor's infantry approached, they switched tactics—Lira using stun fields, Arriel following up with paralysis shots and binding magic.

They ducked a fireball, then launched a joint attack that disabled a giant golem's leg. All around, other Mirdian heroes fought valiantly, some unleashing firestorms, others slashing down enemy steel machines with enchanted blades.

Suddenly, the sky dimmed.

A sound rolled over the battlefield, low and primal.

A second later, a massive shadow passed over them.

A scream erupted from the clouds as something enormous descended.

A massive creature, the Abyssal Wyrm, a SS-rank monster, landed with a thunderous impact.

Its obsidian scales shimmered with runes. Its wings stretched wider than any airship. Its eyes—deep, swirling pits of red—scanned the battlefield with a hunger not born of strategy, but of wrath.

And then it breathed.

Darkflame.

A jet of black fire engulfed friend and foe alike. Golems melted. Soldiers screamed. The battlefield turned into a blazing hellscape.

"Everyone, regroup! Focus on the Wyrm!" Valtheas roared.

To their surprise, Theodor's elite heroes turned as well, their formation disrupted by the unexpected threat. The monster didn't differentiate. Mirdia's and Theodor's army both suffer damages from it's attack.

The war had paused. Now it was survival.

Valtheas surged forward, surrounded by a crackling field of golden light. His fist slammed into the wyrm's flank, a shockwave radiating outward. The beast stumbled but retaliated, knocking Valtheas flying with a sweep of its tail. He crashed into a crater, only to rise seconds later, bloodied but standing.

"Arriel, now!" Lira shouted.

Arriel summoned wind magic to launch her into the air. She cast Bind, aiming at the wyrm's wing joints. Tendrils of force wrapped around them, slowing its movement. Arriel followed with a burst of blinding light—forcing the creature to rear back.

Then the real assault began.

Dozens of heroes fired in unison. Tier 5 and 6 spells collided with its hide. One of Theodor's hero mages unleashed a massive earth spike that tore into the wyrm's leg. A barrage of enchanted missiles from Mirdia's tanks struck its torso.

For a moment, the tide turned.

But the Abyssal Wyrm, roared again, this time releasing a pulse that drained mana. Many heroes stumbled. Several fainted.

Lira drank a mana potion and kept casting. Arriel, gasping, forced himself up.

"We can't let it escape!" someone yelled.

Valtheas leapt again, this time driving a light-infused fist into the wyrm's chest. A rune exploded. The monster shrieked, one wing crumpling.

And yet—it lived.

Bleeding, burning, wounded—it opened its jaws and took to the sky, barely flapping its remaining wing.

A trail of smoke and gore marked its flight.

Direction: South.

"It's heading to Theodor's capital!" a hero shouted.

Theodor's troops began retreating en masse. Their heroes, panicked, gave chase to the monster, abandoning the battlefield.

Arriel stepped forward. "We should help..."

"No," Valtheas said, voice cold.

He stood among the wreckage, his hound by his side, watching the black dot vanish in the sky.

"Let them handle their own nightmare. This battle is over. We return."

The soldiers around him began to lower their weapons. Some cried. Some vomited. Many knelt.

Arriel clenched his fists.

They turned back.

The heroes of Mirdia marched away from the smoldering ruins of the battlefield, victory bittersweet.

Behind them, the sky remained dark—as if the Wyrm's shadow had not yet fully left.