The valley rumbled as if the mountain itself were waking up from a centuries-long slumber. The sound was deep, resonant, a vibration that could be felt in the bones as much as heard in the ears. It wasn't just the wind or the shifting of rock—it was the heavy, rhythmic thud of something massive moving across the earth.
Catapults being drawn taut, their wooden frames creaking under the strain of immense tension. Ballistas turning slowly, their iron bolts glinting in the sunlight, aimed with deadly precision. Chains dragging across the ground, scraping against stone and dirt, leaving deep grooves in their wake.
A massive demon army occupied the plain in front of a small dwarf settlement. The horde stretched as far as the eye could see, a sea of grotesque bodies, sharp claws, and glowing red eyes. Their armor was jagged and dark, forged from the remains of conquered lands, and their weapons were crude but deadly. But the most terrifying thing wasn't the war machines they had brought, nor the sheer number of demons that filled the plain.
It was the creatures pulling those machines.
Stone Golems.
Giants over ten meters tall, their bodies formed from blocks of black rock joined together as if they were part of the mountain itself. Their skin was rough and unyielding, the stone worn smooth in places by time and use, but still as hard as any fortress wall. Every step they took made the ground vibrate, sending small ripples through the earth, as if the very land feared their weight.
Their arms were like fortress pillars, thick and strong, capable of lifting boulders as if they were pebbles. Their hands were massive, each finger as long as a man's arm, and their palms could crush an entire house with a single squeeze. And their eyes… deep within the stone sockets, they glowed with an ancient light buried within the rock, a faint, eerie luminescence that spoke of a life force far older than any of the races gathered in the valley.
Enormous chains wrapped around their torsos, the links as thick as a dwarf's waist, forged from dark iron that bit into the stone. The demons forced them to drag the war machines as if they were beasts of burden, prodding them with sharpened spears and shouting orders that the golems seemed to obey only out of fear or compulsion.
The demon general watched from a high rock, his form towering over even the largest of his soldiers. He was a creature of shadow and flame, his skin black as pitch, his wings folded behind him like a cloak of darkness. His eyes burned with malice, and his voice, when he spoke, was like grinding stones.
"FIRE!" he roared, his voice echoing across the valley.
The ballistas began to turn toward the dwarf settlement, their iron bolts aimed at the small stone houses where the dwarves had gathered, terrified and ready to fight for their homes. The catapults were raised, loaded with boulders and fire pots, ready to rain destruction down on the settlement.
But Byron raised a hand, his fingers splayed, a signal to stop. The lycan warriors beside him froze, their eyes turning to their leader, confused but obedient.
He had heard something.
Beneath the rumble of the machines, the shouts of the demons, and the creak of the chains, there was another sound. A low, deep murmur, almost too quiet to be heard, but impossible to miss once you listened for it.
The stone giants were talking to each other.
Their voices were deep, so deep that they felt more like a vibration in the air than a sound. Grave, slow, and resonant, as if two mountains were rubbing against each other, their stone surfaces grinding together in a slow, ancient conversation.
Byron narrowed his eyes, his brow furrowed in thought. He didn't understand why… but that sound felt familiar to him. It stirred something in his memory, a faint echo of a language he had heard long ago, in a place far from here. He couldn't explain it, but he knew he had to try to reach them.
Without saying anything to the others, he stepped forward, his boots crunching on the rocky ground as he walked toward the line of golems and demons. He moved slowly, his hands raised slightly to show he meant no harm, his eyes fixed on the giants.
And he spoke.
—Братья из камня… слушайте меня.
(Brothers of stone… listen to me.)
The words rolled off his tongue, strange and ancient, but they felt right, as if he had spoken them a thousand times before.
The giants stopped. The movement was slow, deliberate, the sound of their stone bodies shifting like boulders tumbling down a hill. One of them slowly turned his massive head, his glowing eyes fixing on Byron, the small lycan who stood before him like a tiny insect. The earth cracked under his weight as he shifted his position, the rock splitting beneath his feet.
The demon general frowned, his eyes narrowing as he watched Byron. "What is that lycan doing?" he snarled, his voice filled with confusion and anger. "Is he mad? Talking to the golems like they're his friends?"
But Byron didn't look at the general. He kept his eyes on the giant, his voice steady and calm as he continued.
—Вы не их рабы.
(You are not their slaves.)
The golems looked at each other, their stone heads turning slowly, the sound of their movement grinding through the air. It was as if they were considering his words, as if they understood what he was saying.
—Я освобожу вас.
(I will free you.)
A strange silence fell over the valley. The demons stopped their shouting, the machines fell still, and even the wind seemed to die down. All eyes were on Byron and the giants, waiting to see what would happen next.
Then Byron raised his voice, his words ringing out clear and strong across the plain.
—Но сначала… перестаньте сражаться.
(But first… stop fighting.)
For a long moment, nothing happened. Then, slowly, the giants began to move. The enormous siege weapons they had been pulling crashed to the ground with thuds that echoed through the mountains, the sound of wood and metal hitting stone filling the air. The chains around their torsos went slack as they dropped their burdens, their massive hands falling to their sides.
The demon general roared furiously, his voice echoing with rage. "OBEY!" he shouted, stepping forward and pointing his sword at the golems. "You are mine! You will do as I command! Destroy them! Destroy everything!"
But the giants no longer listened to him. Their glowing eyes were fixed on Byron, their stone faces expressionless but attentive. They had heard his words, and they had chosen.
Byron raised his arm, his hand gesturing forward.
—Вперёд!
(Forward!)
The first golem advanced. His foot struck the ground with the force of an earthquake, the impact sending a shockwave through the earth that knocked several demons off their feet. A group of demons that had been standing near him tried to run, but they were too slow. The giant's foot came down, and they were crushed beneath his weight, their bodies vanishing under the massive stone sole.
Another giant tore a catapult from the ground as if it were a toy, his massive hands gripping the wooden frame and pulling it free from the earth with ease. He turned and hurled it against the enemy ranks, the machine flying through the air like a piece of kindling. It smashed into the middle of the demon army, destroying everything in its path, crushing demons and breaking their weapons, turning the orderly ranks into a chaotic mess.
A third golem lifted an entire ballista, the heavy weapon feeling light in his hands. He swung it like a mace, the iron and wood crashing into the demons, sweeping away an entire line of them with a single blow. The sound of metal hitting bone and flesh was sickening, but the giant showed no mercy. He had been enslaved for too long, and now he was free.
The battlefield turned into chaos. Demons running in panic, their shouts of fear filling the air. Machines overturned and broken, scattered across the plain. Rocks flying through the air, thrown by the giants or torn from the ground in the confusion.
The stone giants advanced like walking mountains, their steps slow but unstoppable. Nothing could stop them. The demons' swords and spears bounced off their stone skin, leaving no mark. Their magic fizzled against the rock, useless against the ancient power of the golems. They moved forward, crushing the demon army beneath their feet, tearing through their ranks like paper.
The lycans and dwarves watched without moving, their eyes wide with astonishment. They had seen battles before, but nothing like this. Nothing like the sight of stone giants turning against their masters, destroying an entire demon army with ease.
Claude murmured, impressed, his voice soft but filled with awe. "He's… commanding them."
The demon general watched in horror as his army was destroyed by his own slaves. His face twisted with rage and disbelief, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. "Impossible!" he shouted. "This can't be happening! They are mine! They belong to me!"
Then he spread his enormous black wings, the leathery membranes unfurling to their full span, casting a shadow over the battlefield. "I WILL RETURN!" he roared, his voice filled with venom. "I will not forget this! I will not let this stand!"
The wind struck the valley as he rose into the sky, his wings beating powerfully, lifting him higher and higher. "And I will destroy everything you love!" he shouted, his voice fading as he flew away. "You will regret this, lycan! You will all regret this!"
Claude frowned, his eyes following the general as he flew off. "He's escaping," he said, his voice tense. "We can't let him get away. He'll come back with more demons, more armies. He'll be a threat to all of us."
But Byron was already looking at one of the giants, the one who had stood closest to him. He met the giant's glowing eyes, and he spoke again, his voice calm but urgent.
—Брат из камня…
(Brother of stone…)
The golem slowly bowed his massive head, the stone grinding as he moved. He seemed to understand what Byron needed.
—Брось меня.
(Throw me.)
The giant extended his arm, his massive hand opening palm up. It was a hand the size of a war chariot, wide and strong, capable of holding a dozen men easily.
Byron didn't hesitate. He ran forward, his feet moving fast across the ground, and jumped onto the giant's palm. He landed lightly, his balance steady, his eyes fixed on the demon general who was now a small dot in the sky, flying away.
The golem flexed his arm, the stone muscles tightening with power. He drew his arm back, then swung it forward with incredible force.
And launched Byron.
The lycan shot through the sky like a bullet, his body cutting through the air, the wind rushing past him. He flew faster than any arrow, faster than any bird, straight toward the demon general who thought he had escaped.
The demon general turned his head, hearing the sound of something cutting through the air. His eyes widened in horror as he saw Byron coming toward him, a small figure but one filled with deadly intent.
Byron was coming straight for him.
Mid-flight, he extended his black claws, the sharp, curved blades glinting in the sunlight. A cold smile appeared on his face, a smile that spoke of deadly determination.
"Better not leave anything for tomorrow," he muttered, his voice carried away by the wind.
He reached out, his claws extended, and they tore through the demon's body. The blow was brutal, powerful, and precise. The general's body split in two in mid-air, the dark flesh tearing apart, his blood spraying into the sky.
A piercing scream crossed the sky before fading away, a sound of pain and terror that echoed through the valley. The two halves of the demon fell toward the valley, tumbling through the air, before crashing onto the ground far below.
Byron descended, spinning through the air, his body moving with grace and control. He extended his legs, and landed cleanly on the ground, his boots touching the rock with a soft thud. He stood upright, his claws retracting, his eyes scanning the battlefield to make sure the danger was gone.
Silence settled over the battlefield. The demons who had not been killed were running, fleeing for their lives, disappearing into the mountains. The stone giants remained motionless, standing like monuments on the plain, their glowing eyes watching everything. Like mountains watching, ancient and unchanging.
In the distance, Lars looked at Claude, his face still pale with shock. He scratched his beard, his eyes fixed on Byron, who was now walking back toward his people.
"Remind me…" he said, his voice quiet.
Claude raised an eyebrow, looking at the dwarf. "Remind you of what?"
Lars pointed at Byron, his finger trembling slightly. "Never to make Byron angry."
Claude nodded slowly, a small smile playing on his lips. "Wise advice."