That day, the ground began to tremble.Battle was inevitable.Tension thickened beneath the gray skies of Blacksand.
The Whiteheaven Imperial Army, now directly commanded by Rogg, had been reduced to just 200,000 soldiers—a force far too small to face the combined enemy of 570,000 troops. After the devastating defeat on the first day, Eryndor's forces had only 40,000 left. Damerius and Magnoli had brought back 90,000 bloodied soldiers from the brutal battle on the eastern front. The only contingent left nearly intact was Rogg and Vuuxi's main force—thanks to brilliant strategy, 70,000 of their original 75,000 troops still stood.
The vast open plain in the heart of Blacksand became the silent witness of two colossal armies facing off.
From a distance, a thunderous voice rang out.
"Rogg! Surrender... this is hopelessly unbalanced!"It was Neroxius—his voice sharp, mocking, and brimming with confidence.
Rogg stepped forward, his gaze as sharp as a freshly whetted blade."Nero... so you're the one behind all this betrayal?" he shouted. "I never knew you like I knew the other princes... but now I see you clearly for who you are!"
Neroxius merely laughed."You've been emperor for three days and already think you're fit to control all our fates? Where did you come from, Rogg? Who even knows your origin? Ask your army—do they truly wish to die for a stranger they barely know?!"
Among the crowd, Billok stood frozen. His breath caught in his throat as he saw the man—the one who had severed his hand. His face tensed, and his eyes burned with vengeance.
"Roooooog! You?! You're here?!" Billok roared in Balevad tongue. "I'll have my revenge—today!"
Rogg recognized the voice. He narrowed his eyes."Billok... didn't I spare your life once? And now you return—just to throw it away again?"
Gasps rippled through the Balevad ranks.On the other side, Minora stared at Rogg from afar, her eyes wide in disbelief. Her heart skipped a beat.She knew that man—he was the King of Migase. And now… the Emperor of Whiteheaven?
Neroxius stepped forward again, his voice booming.
"Hear me! Give us Rogg's head—and we'll spare the rest of you!"
From the enemy lines, Todius called out, his eyes fixed on Eryndor."Uncle... it's time to choose. Die today... or join us."
Magnoli heard the words and fell silent, his jaw clenched."What? Todius...? You—betrayed us too?" he muttered, stunned.
Eryndor didn't say much. He gave a signal. His troops quickly realigned.
"I may hold grudges against Balevad," he said coldly, "but siding with the winning force is no shame."
And just like that, Rogg's forces were drastically outnumbered.Six hundred and ten thousand against a mere 160,000—an overwhelming imbalance.
"Rogg!" shouted Dorges from atop his horse. "Surrender! You have no hope left!"
Rogg did not answer. He stood firm, his eyes fixed on the ground where hundreds of thousands would soon bleed.Then, from beside him, Aelthar spoke in a low voice, "Are you really willing to sacrifice so many lives... just for pride?"
Rogg took a deep breath, then raised his voice—strong, unwavering.
"If blood must be spilled today, then let me bear the burden. But one thing is certain—I will not retreat!Anyone who wishes to surrender may still save themselves.But I... will stand my ground!"
Silence swept across the battlefield.Rogg's words echoed through every rank.
Far in the distance, Bolisi, observing from the Balevad command tent, muttered under his breath,"This man... he's the only leader truly worthy of admiration."
But on a small hill to the west, Bondor raised his axe high in the air."I'll rip that bastard's mouth apart!! He's too full of himself!"
Suddenly, Rogg spoke again.
"Before this war begins, I issue a challenge to Balevad—or anyone else:Face me in battle for two days straight! One on one, two, or even ten at once.If you manage to kill me... then my army will surrender!"
The enemy commanders glanced at each other, confused.Rogg knew his troops were too few for an all-out fight today.All he needed... was time. Just a little more time.
Josia Aedrin galloped off, taking the secret northern route out of the city.He carried Rogg's urgent message—orders to the Doliex and Whiteheaven reinforcements still stationed in Ulmara.Their final hope... was for those reinforcements to arrive in time.
Rogg stood calmly in the wide-open field.Before him, the joint armies of Larfex and Balevad loomed like a sea of spears and steel.The sun tilted westward, painting the sky in a deep orange hue—a sign that time was no longer on their side.
He stepped forward and stared intently at Neroxius and the Balevad commanders.
"I ask only for two days," Rogg declared. "Anyone from your side may step forward, and I'll face them.It's no act of honor for an emperor to be slaughtered by his own people.But to fall in Balaidos Combat—that's a death I can accept with peace."
Neroxius threw his head back and burst into laughter, his voice echoing across the army lines.
"You think you can still negotiate with me? You've already lost, Rogg!I'll give you three hours!If you don't surrender by then... your army will be obliterated—without mercy!"
Without a single word, Rogg opened the square wooden chest he had brought with him.The battlefield held its breath as he raised its contents high above his head.
A human head.Bindor's head.
With a single, deliberate motion, Rogg impaled the severed head onto the tip of his spear and drove it into the ground—right in front of the enemy ranks.
"Our emperor... is insane," Magnoli muttered, his eyes locked sharply on the battlefield.
"I didn't think he'd still have the nerve to toy with the enemy like this..." Damerius added, slowly shaking his head in disbelief.
Across the field, Bondor—standing among the Balevad ranks—let out a furious roar. His eyes burned red, his breath ragged with rage.
"You bastard!! So it was you who snuck in and killed Bindor?! I'll make you regret the day you were born!" he howled, nearly charging forward.
The atmosphere grew taut. The Balevad soldiers clenched their jaws, fury etched across thousands of faces. But Rogg stood unshaken—like a mountain defying the storm.
He raised his voice again.
"I challenge you! Balaidos Combat! Send whoever you want, as many as you want. But don't expect me to run."
Neroxius turned toward Bolisi, visibly agitated.
"Bolisi, we need to strike now! Don't let that bastard force us to fight on his terms!"
But Bolisi only smirked and slowly shook his head.
"No, Prince Nero. Balaidos Combat is our tradition. If he issues the challenge, he has the right to fight. Besides..." he cast a cynical glance across the field, "...victory is already in our grasp. No one's coming to save them."
Neroxius ground his teeth. "Hah! Of course! The Balevad forces we sent to Vorthend and Ulmara outnumber Whiteheaven's troops two to one! Isn't that right, Uncle Aelthar?"
Aelthar nodded firmly. "Correct. Rogg barely sent any troops to those cities. Even if they win, they'll be torn apart—what remains will be scraps."
Neroxius grinned with smug satisfaction. "Fine then. Let them have their little show. Their so-called 'honorable war.'"
He turned to Bolisi.
"Prince Bolisi, go ahead. Hold your Balaidos Combat. But just for one day! One!"
Bolisi gave a low chuckle. "One day is enough. I have hundreds of warriors ready. Let's see... how long your so-called 'god of war' can last."
Rogg looked to the sky. Time was running out—but not his resolve.
"Zarok!!!"
Bolisi's shout thundered across the now-silent battlefield. From behind the Balevad ranks, a monstrous figure emerged, striding steadily toward the center of the field. Each of his steps shook the ground. His massive body was clad in creaking iron armor, crude and brutal. In his hand, he wielded a gigantic black iron mace—its weight alone enough to shatter bone with a single swing.
From the Whiteheaven side, Rogg narrowed his eyes and suddenly shouted in thick Balevad:
"Billok! Tell your brother this—I don't even know who he is! But one thing's clear: return my spear!"
The tension spiked instantly. Bondor understood at once. Rogg was referring to Dragnir, the legendary spear he'd used to slay Bindor—and which was now in someone else's hands.
"Bastaaaaard!" Bondor bellowed, raising his sword. "Give the spear back! Now!!"
Meanwhile, Zarok continued his march toward the field's center. His scarred face was expressionless, but behind the helmet, his eyes burned with rage. Rogg, however, simply raised an eyebrow, mockingly.
"This is your champion?" Rogg shouted. "Why send me a lackey? Is there no true leader among you? Just another brainless giant who can't even lift his own gut?"
Laughter erupted from the Whiteheaven troops. Some of them raised their weapons, jeering loudly. On the other side, the Balevad soldiers responded with a rumbling growl, their anger seething. Rogg's mockery had struck a nerve.
Standing not far from the front lines, Vuuxi looked up. His eyes narrowed, a faint smirk curling on his lips. He knew exactly what his brother was doing.
"Vuuxi!" Rogg called out boldly. "I want you to face him. Show them what Doliex honor really means!"