It was a bright morning in Field of Hope, as a reddish light slowly rose toward the horizon like a crimson blade cutting through the darkness. The sun had not yet risen in the east, but its promise painted the sky in shades of blood and gold. However, since early morning, the Vellenor army had been preparing by donning their armor, each piece of steel gleaming with morning dew and the oil of careful maintenance.The sound of thousands of footsteps echoed as they stepped on the ground, accompanied by the beating of war drums that fired up their spirits like thunder from the heavens. The sound of trumpets, a combination of the clanging of metal armor and the rhythmic pounding of drums, created a symphony of approaching war. All of this startled the animals that usually basked in Field of Hope, and they ran away in fear, sensing the bloodshed that would soon stain their peaceful meadow.In the air, a gentle breeze mingled with the earthy scent of the soil, filling the lungs with the last

The golden light did indeed carry hot steam that made their skin feel as if it would peel off, but it was the heat of salvation rather than destruction. The very air seemed to shimmer with divine power.All the young men shivered with a mixture of fear and awe as supernatural forces clashed above their heads. When the golden light sounded like the crackling of tongues of fire, the wind blew over their heads carrying the scent of celestial flames. The loud crackling made everyone cower and bow their heads in reverence and terror.They were afraid of being burned to death by friendly fire, yet filled with hope at this display of power. All the soldiers stared open-mouthed at the golden light as it passed over them and headed in the opposite direction, moving with purpose toward their enemies."By the gods in the heavens! Is that a firebird descended from the celestial realm itself?"That's right, spoken with wonder and disbelief at what their eyes witnessed. It was a large firebird, a g

She was wearing a leather vest, the trademark armor of skilled archers, crafted from the hide of creatures that had never known fear. The leather was supple yet strong, allowing her freedom of movement while protecting her vital organs."Listen to my orders!" Nyima's voice cut through the commotion like a sword through silk. She shouted from the eastern side of Field of Hope, her words carrying the authority of one who had earned respect through skill and courage.Despite the chaotic atmosphere that would break lesser commanders, Nyima was able to control her trained archers with the precision of a master musician conducting a deadly orchestra. Her presence alone seemed to calm the fears of her soldiers."Five thousand sharpshooters, take up arms!" Nyima commanded in a loud voice that rang across the battlefield like the call of a war goddess.Simultaneously, five thousand skilled archers raised their bows and arrows toward the sky, their movements synchronized like the beating of a s

Ninurta was an Afrit, a five-thousand-year-old spirit demon whose very presence could chill mortal souls to their core. His experience as a spirit summoned to the world has been countless times, each summoning etching deeper lines of malevolence into his ancient essence.Wizards, or Summoners, frequently contract and utilize Ninurta's power as a war expert whose knowledge of battle spans millennia of bloodshed. In addition to his mastery of evil magic, Ninurta is a seasoned warlord who has fought in countless battles over thousands of years, answering the calls of Summoners who sought victory at any cost.No less than the wars in Babylonia, the wars in Sumeria, and many other wars in the Mystical Lands of the past, Ninurta played a significant role in many of these conflicts, his blade drinking deeply from rivers of spilled blood. All of this was due to his great strength and combat skills that had been honed across eons of warfare.Ninurta was also highly skilled in magic that drew p

Ninurta turned around, dread creeping up his spine like ice water. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as primal fear awakened.The figure in front of him looked very mysterious, wrapped in shadows that seemed to move independently. He looked human, but his pale face and gray eyes, like those of a fox, clearly identified him as an elf whose heritage spoke of ancient power."But what kind of elf has black magic and giant hands that struck me just now?" Ninurta became anxious, his warrior instincts screaming warnings.His instincts told him that this was a bad thing, a threat unlike any he had faced in recent centuries. Then the figure in front of him spoke in a low voice that carried the whisper of grave dirt."You're Afrit, aren't you? Remove your disguise and show your true form!" The command rang with authority that made the air itself tremble.Hearing this, Ninurta grew even more uneasy, cold sweat beading on his ancient brow. Only spellcasters with intermediate to high-