It was a normal day… or at least that was what everyone in Luparia believed. The sun hung high in the sky, casting a warm, golden light over the fortress and the lands surrounding it. The air was filled with the sounds of daily life—people talking, tools clinking, children laughing—as the different clans went about their work, building a new world together.
Inside the command hall of the fortress, Byron stood beside a large stone table covered with maps, their surfaces marked with lines and symbols that represented the territories, the resources, and the defenses of New Earth. Around him were Lars, Claude, and Elbron, their voices low and focused as they discussed the distribution of tasks among the different clans that now lived within the walls.
Lars pointed to a section of the map with one thick, calloused finger, his brow furrowed in concentration.
"The dwarves will continue reinforcing the northern wall," he said, his voice deep and gruff. "The rock there is stronger, harder than any other stone we've found in these lands, but the terrain is uneven. The ground slopes sharply, and there are deep crevices that we have to fill before we can lay the foundations. It will take time, but when we're done, that wall will be unbreakable."
Claude nodded while writing notes in a small leather-bound book, his quill moving quickly across the page. "The humans can organize the supplies for the builders. Food, tools, transport… we'll make sure that everything you need is delivered to the site on time. No delays, no shortages."
Byron listened silently, his arms crossed as he studied the map, his eyes scanning every detail. Maintaining balance between the clans required constant attention, careful planning, and fair decisions. Every choice mattered, every action had consequences, and he knew that the future of New Earth depended on their ability to work together, to support one another.
Just as he was about to speak, to add his own thoughts to the discussion—
BOOM
A deep, resonant sound echoed through the fortress, shaking the stone walls and the floor beneath their feet. It was a sound that everyone recognized, a sound that sent a jolt of adrenaline through their veins.
The four of them lifted their heads at the same time, their eyes meeting, filled with sudden alertness.
Then it came again.
BOOM… BOOM… BOOM…
The war drums. Their rhythm was fast, urgent, a call to arms that could be heard across the entire settlement.
Elbron frowned, his expression serious. "That's not a normal signal. The rhythm is different. It means danger, immediate danger."
Byron was already moving, his legs carrying him toward the door before Elbron had even finished speaking. "The wall," he said simply, his voice firm and decisive.
They left the hall immediately, their footsteps pounding on the stone floor as they ran through the corridors, climbing the stone stairs toward the top of the fortress walls. The stairs were steep and narrow, but they moved with speed and agility, their minds focused on one thing—reaching the battlements as fast as possible.
When they reached the top, when they stepped out onto the wide stone platform that ran along the edge of the wall, the wind struck their faces, cold and sharp, carrying the scent of dust and distant earth.
And then they saw it.
Far across the road leading toward Luparia, a group of dwarves was running desperately toward the fortress. Their bodies were bent forward, their legs moving as fast as they could, their faces twisted with exhaustion and fear. They were covered in dust from the road, their clothes dirty and torn. Some carried wounds—deep gashes on their arms and legs, blood seeping through their bandages—and their armor was scratched and broken, dented from blows that had nearly killed them.
And behind them…
demons.
Not an army, not a horde that stretched as far as the eye could see. But enough. Enough to slaughter the dwarves before they could reach the gates, before they could find safety within the walls of Luparia. There were at least twenty of them, their grotesque figures moving fast, their claws and teeth bared, their roars filling the air.
Lars clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white, his eyes filled with worry and anger. "They're my people," he muttered, his voice tight with emotion. "I have to go help them."
But something else was already happening on the wall.
From several points along the battlements, lycan women began appearing at a run, their figures moving with grace and speed. They emerged from the corridors and the towers, gathering in small groups, their movements synchronized, as if they had practiced this a thousand times before. They carried longbows made of polished wood, their strings taut and ready, and crossbows that looked deadly and efficient. They moved in perfect formation, their eyes focused, their expressions calm and determined.
Lars watched them with curiosity, his brow furrowed as he looked at the women who were now taking up positions along the wall. "Who are they?" he asked, his voice low.
Byron kept his gaze fixed on the battlefield, on the dwarves who were getting closer, on the demons who were gaining on them. "The Lycans Valkyries," he said calmly, his voice filled with pride.
Lars raised an eyebrow, looking at Byron with surprise. "Valkyries?"
A faint smile crossed Byron's face, a small, warm expression that softened his features. "That's what I called them when I formed the unit. I remembered the old stories, the legends of warrior women who would come to the aid of those in need, who would fight with courage and strength. They seemed like the perfect name for them."
The warriors continued deploying across the wall with flawless precision, moving to their assigned positions without hesitation, without confusion. Some took up places at the very edge of the battlements, while others moved to the towers and the smaller platforms that jutted out from the wall.
"They are our elite archers," Byron continued, his voice steady as he explained. "They train every day, honing their skills, perfecting their aim. When the enemy is small in number, fast, or tries to approach too close, when we need speed and accuracy, they are the ones we call. They are faster and more agile than most of our male warriors, and their aim is unmatched."
His eyes followed the warriors as they prepared their weapons, checking their bows and crossbows, making sure that everything was ready.
"They are Luparia's first warning," he said, "and our first line of defense. When they are called, the enemy doesn't stand a chance."
Some Valkyries rushed directly to the edge of the wall, their feet planted firmly on the stone, their bows raised, their eyes scanning the distance.
Others pulled out harnesses made of thick, strong leather and heavy chains, fastening them tightly around their torsos, making sure that they were secure. With practiced, efficient movements, they secured the other end of the chains to iron anchors embedded in the stone, anchors that had been placed there years ago, designed to hold the weight of a warrior even in the strongest wind.
Without hesitation, several Valkyries stepped over the edge of the wall and descended until they hung halfway down the massive fortress wall, their feet braced against the stone, their bodies suspended in mid-air. They moved with ease, as if hanging from a wall was the most natural thing in the world, their hands gripping their weapons, their eyes fixed on the ground below.
Above them, on the top of the wall, other archers took position, standing side by side, their weapons ready.
Two levels.
Two angles of attack.
It was a brilliant strategy, one that would allow them to strike the enemy from above and from the side, making it almost impossible for the demons to defend themselves.
The woman who appeared to be their leader walked straight toward Byron, her steps confident and steady. She was tall and strong, her muscles defined, her face marked with a small scar that ran from her eyebrow to her cheek, a reminder of a battle she had fought and won. Her hair was tied back in a tight braid, and her eyes were bright and sharp, filled with intelligence and courage.
She stopped in front of him and struck her chest with a clenched fist in salute, a gesture of respect and loyalty.
Byron nodded once, a short, sharp movement. That was all the permission she needed.
She turned sharply, her movements quick and decisive, and faced her warriors. "Positions!" she shouted, her voice loud and clear, carrying across the wall.
Chains tightened, pulling taut as the suspended warriors adjusted their positions, making sure that they were stable.
Arrows were nocked, placed carefully on the strings of the bows, ready to be fired.
Crossbows were loaded, their bolts placed in the slots, their mechanisms cocked and ready.
Below them, the dwarves were getting closer to the gates, their breaths ragged as they ran, their legs aching, their bodies exhausted. They could see the walls of Luparia now, could see the warriors standing on top, and a glimmer of hope appeared in their eyes.
But the demons were gaining. They were fast, faster than the dwarves, and they were closing the gap with every step. Their roars grew louder, more triumphant, as they thought that they would soon have their prey within their grasp.
The Valkyrie captain raised her arm, her hand held high, her fingers curled into a fist.
A deep silence fell across the wall. Even the lycan warriors who were standing nearby watched quietly, their eyes fixed on the captain, on the archers who were ready to fight. The only sounds were the wind blowing across the wall and the distant cries of the dwarves and the roars of the demons.
Byron crossed his arms, his expression calm but focused. "Now you'll see," he murmured, his voice low enough that only Lars could hear him.
Lars frowned, looking at Byron with confusion. "See what?" he asked, his voice curious.
The captain dropped her arm, her hand coming down fast and hard.
"ATTACK!"
The sound was immediate.
TWANG
A storm of arrows fell from the top of the wall, a rain of death that shot through the air, moving faster than the eye could follow. They flew straight and true, aimed with deadly accuracy at the demons who were chasing the dwarves.
Three demons collapsed instantly, pierced through the chest and the neck by the arrows, before they even understood what was happening. They fell to the ground, their bodies motionless, their roars cut short.
The others raised their arms and crude shields—made of wood and animal hide—to protect themselves, trying to block the arrows that were coming at them.
Then the second attack came.
From halfway down the wall, the suspended Valkyries fired. Their arrows shot upward at impossible angles, curving through the air, moving in ways that seemed to defy logic.
They slipped beneath shields, passing under the crude barriers that the demons had raised, straight into chests and throats.
Two more demons fell screaming, their bodies collapsing to the ground, blood pouring from their wounds.
Lars' eyes widened, his mouth falling open in surprise and awe. "By the mountains," he muttered, his voice filled with admiration. "I've never seen anything like that."
The demons tried to scatter, trying to run in different directions, trying to escape the rain of arrows that was falling on them. But there was nowhere to run. The road was narrow, flanked by trees and rocks, and they were trapped.
Death rained from above, from the top of the wall, and from below, from the suspended archers who struck them from angles they could not defend against.
Crossbows thundered, their bolts flying with deadly force, piercing through the demons' skin and bone.
Arrows flew with deadly precision, hitting their targets every time, never missing.
Within moments, the pursuit had turned into a massacre. The demons fell one by one, their bodies littering the road, their roars turning into silence.
The last demons turned and tried to flee, their bodies trembling with fear, their minds filled with the instinct to survive.
They didn't get far.
Three arrows struck their backs almost at the same time, piercing through their bodies, sending them crashing to the ground.
Silence returned to the battlefield. The only sounds were the wind blowing across the road and the heavy breathing of the dwarves who had finally reached safety.
The dwarves finally reached the gates of Luparia, gasping for breath, their legs giving out beneath them. They collapsed on the ground, their bodies exhausted, but their eyes filled with relief and gratitude. They looked up at the wall, at the warriors who had saved their lives, and they raised their hands in salute.
Above them, the Valkyries began climbing back up their chains with effortless agility, their bodies moving up the wall as if they were flying. They pulled themselves up, hand over hand, their muscles strong and powerful, until they reached the top of the wall.
One by one they returned to the stone battlements, their feet touching the ground, their weapons still in their hands. They stood tall, their heads held high, their expressions calm and proud.
When the last warrior stepped onto the battlements, the lycan warriors who were standing nearby formed two lines before them, creating a path for the Valkyries to walk through.
Then came the sound of steel.
CLANG. CLANG. CLANG.
Swords struck shields in powerful rhythm, a steady, resonant sound that echoed across the wall. It was not a warning, not a call to battle. It was a salute. A gesture of respect and admiration for the warriors who had fought with such courage and skill, who had saved the lives of their fellow clansmen.
The Valkyries stood before them in silence, their heads held high, their eyes filled with pride.
Then, almost at the same moment, the warriors raised their bows and crossbows toward the sky, holding them high, a sign of victory, a sign of strength, a sign that they were ready to defend their home and their people whenever they were needed.
Lars looked out over the field where the demon bodies lay scattered, their grotesque forms still and silent. Then he turned his gaze toward the Valkyries, toward the women who had fought with such skill and courage.
"Now I understand why demons fear approaching this fortress," he said, his voice filled with respect.
He glanced toward the wall, toward the massive stone structure that had protected them for so long. "It isn't the walls that stop them," he said, his voice quiet but firm.
His eyes settled on the warriors, on the Valkyries who stood tall and proud. "It's them."
Byron remained silent, watching the distant horizon, his eyes filled with determination and pride. Because in Luparia everyone knew one thing.
When the drums called the Lycans Valkyries…
the enemies of the fortress were already dead.