The battlefield was vast and endless, stretching like a sea of blood and dust beneath a dark, ominous sky. Black clouds gathered above, and the wind carried the scent of iron, sweat, and smoke. The roars of soldiers blended with the blaring of war horns, as if the entire world screamed before the moment of explosion. Today, strength alone would not decide the outcome… but the land itself — the soil over which kings and empires clashed. Fertile, ancient, and rich in resources, every inch of it was a treasure worth dying for. Rows of soldiers advanced, each step shaking the earth beneath them, every shout from a commander or warrior echoing through the hearts of thousands. Archers raised their bows, and mages chanted in unison, their voices rolling through the air like thunder before a storm of annihilation. The ground trembled beneath the march of thousands, and the air grew heavy with the scent of steel, sweat, and fear. Every step drew closer to the hour of blood — the hour that w

Narrator’s Opening: The smoke had not yet cleared from the battlefield, when once again the sound of clashing metal thundered— announcing that hell had not yet closed. The battle had split into two fronts— each one strong enough to crush an entire kingdom on its own, and every strike threatened to turn history upside down. --- The Field… The soldiers surged like a tide of iron, their shining armor staining red with each passing heartbeat. The neighing of horses mixed with the screams, and the stench of burning flesh suffocated the sky. > “Advance!” “Show no mercy!” “For the land!!” Every voice was like a blade. The spearmen charged first, their ranks colliding like human walls breaking upon one another. Flaming arrows rained down from above, turning the sky into a forest of fire. A sword pierced through a chest, a spear buried into another’s gut, and a soldier fell screaming as his comrade kicked him aside to press forward. The ground became a crimson sea, and

The wind howled, carrying with it the scent of burning iron and fresh blood. The sky was split in two: one half torn by the wings of birds, the other boiling with demonic flames. Beneath it, the earth was about to turn into a sea of chaos — thousands of soldiers screaming in a storm of cries and steel. Asmodeus stood atop the rocky hill, the cold smile never leaving his face. Before him, a sea of moving shadows… the armies of Hell. And across from him stood the Grand Alliance, in solid ranks, each race holding its weapon with its final ounce of pride. Asmodeus (mockingly): > "How beautiful this play looks… legions of pathetic creatures who think an alliance can create miracles." The demons behind him laughed, a hoarse sound like the barking of wolves. But the laughter stopped when the air trembled, and Morlok, his father, appeared — a shadow older than Hell itself. His voice rumbled from the depths: > "Let them gather as they wish… we will turn this place into a graveyard f

Roar of Chaos: The battlefield trembled under Ashura’s steps. The ground was no longer ground, but a sea of blood and fire. Dust rose, and even the air itself screamed with every movement of his six arms. His three faces roared at once, each bearing a different emotion: One mocked, the second boiled with rage, and the third laughed in madness. > “Hahahaha!! That’s what I want! Strong enemies… to feed my hunger for blood!!!” Before him stood Aletheia — her black wings spread wide like a veil between light and darkness — and to her right, Falkoris, his black sword gleaming with cold light; to her left, Dragmor, his wings shielding his body like armor forged in hell. There were no more words. Their eyes spoke enough. Ashura charged first, his black scythes flashing with rabid bloodlust. Dragmor blocked with his wings, but the impact shattered the rocks beneath his feet. Energy clashed with air, as if the storm itself had begun. Falkoris shouted: > “Dragmor! The left side!”

The sky shook with explosions of flames and blood, and the cries of soldiers and fighters echoed between the rocks like an unrestrained hellish reverberation. Blood covered the stones, corpses piled up in every corner, and the wind carried the scent of burnt metal and flesh. In the heart of the battle, Asmodeus stood, his torn body covered in black blood, breathing heavily, iron chains wrapping around him like iron serpents. Hades’ eyes glowed with coldness, and his dagger gleamed like blades of death. Hades, sarcastically tightening the chains: > "Feeling suffocated yet, King of Demons?" Asmodeus laughed, black blood dripping from his mouth: > "Hahaha… I will not fall before the likes of you! And this world will exhale its last breath!" Phoenix leapt high, flames consuming his wings, and his blazing sword cut through the air toward Asmodeus’ chest. The latter opened his jaws, releasing a massive wind roar, throwing Phoenix’s body to an unknown place. Asmodeus: "The chic