Date: February 12, 542 years since the Fall of Zanra the Dishonored.
Legate Valerius did not wait for the old man to finish his discourse on manners. For a Herald of Alvost, any obstacle in the path to his goal had to be eliminated immediately. Valerius raised his sword, and the air around him began to vibrate with the Polarity Shift—his Spirit was ready to literally turn the enemy's inner essence inside out.
"Die, old fool!" Valerius lunged at Magnus, his blade tracing a black arc in the air.
Magnus merely sighed heavily, as if facing tedious household chores. He reached for his belt and produced a small, intricately carved wooden box.
"Youth..." the old man squeaked. "No patience at all. If you want to fight, first play with my friends. Spirit of Ancient Toys: March of the Tin Guardsmen!"
The old man snapped open the lid of the box, and dozens of tiny figurines tumbled out onto the obsidian slabs. The moment they touched the floor, the space around them began to distort. Under the influence of the Herald's will, the toys rapidly increased in size, turning into two-meter-tall faceless soldiers carved from ironwood and bound with steel. Their movements were jerky and mechanical, but the floor shuddered with each step of their wooden boots.
Valerius brought his blow down upon the nearest soldier, expecting it to shatter into splinters. But his Polarity Shift met emptiness—the wooden puppets had no internal power circulation system of their own; they were merely extensions of Magnus's will. The wooden guardsman blocked the Legate's sword with a tiny—compared to the Orc's cleaver, but massive for a human—steel shield and delivered a counter-strike with a short spear.
At the same time, Baron Kaelen, seeing Valerius engaged, tried to strike at Grak the Axe. But the Order Commander was on guard. "Your opponent is me, aristocrat!" Grak roared, raising his axe. The white haze of the "Cleaving Strike" collided with the golden glow of Kaelen's "Aegis." The two Heralds locked in a fierce duel, pushing each other towards the edge of the platform.
The Central Node had become a field of total war. While the Heralds divided the space of the hall, the main body of warriors clashed in bloody melee. Fourteen Rakesh knights and twelve Alvost legionaries, obeying their leaders' commands, struck at the remnants of the Seventh Detachment.
"Kaedan, Iskon! Hold the center!" Liana commanded, releasing her "Guiding Branch" to tangle the legs of the advancing legionaries.
Kaedan, despite his destroyed left vambrace and cracks in his cuirass, stood before the group of wounded. Beside him, Iskon froze. The young men understood that the lives of the other eleven knights now rested on them.
"Olaf, Bert—cover Elwin and Brand!" Kaedan shouted. "Iskon and I will be the shield!"
At that moment, Magnus, maneuvering between Valerius's attacks, tossed another figurine from his box into the air. It was an exquisite porcelain doll in a magnificent dress. In flight, it transformed into a beautiful life-sized girl with unnaturally white skin and a frozen smile.
"Melody of Oblivion," Magnus said.
The doll opened its mouth, and singing echoed through the hall—pure, high, and frighteningly beautiful. The Alvost legionaries closest to it suddenly froze, their movements becoming sluggish, their gazes glazed. Their inner energy began to vibrate in time with this deadly lullaby, disorienting the warriors.
Iskon seized the moment. His Scaling Spirit surged into active phase. The young man lengthened his sword by ten feet, piercing the defenses of two stunned legionaries at once. Kaedan, using his mass, crashed into the ranks of the Rakesh knights. His remaining right vambrace crushed shields and broke bones. The young man felt his energy within his Vessel begin to transform—each blow absorbed by his battered body made his inner core denser.
The battle was chaotic. Magnus's wooden soldiers marched through the enemy ranks, porcelain maidens sang hymns of death, while Grak and Kaelen struck sparks from reality itself. The Temple of True Equilibrium shuddered from this excess of power.
Kaedan saw Legate Valerius, enraged at being held back by "toys," begin to be covered in a crimson haze, preparing a large-scale technique. "We need to hold... a little longer..." Kaedan rasped, blocking an enemy captain's thrust.
He knew this carnage was merely a prelude. The Central Crystal above their heads pulsed faster, absorbing the spilled blood and the fury of the combatants. Equilibrium had been shattered, and the Temple was preparing to deliver its verdict.