Pitch-black branches whipped against Alberu’s face, leaving thin, stinging trails of heat across his cheeks. He did not slow down. Darkness pressed in from every direction, so thick it felt like trying to breathe underwater. Every step forward was a battle against an invisible weight that seemed to hang in the very air of this forgotten forest. Panting breath echoed behind him, a ragged, desperate chorus of survival. He could hear the heavy, uneven thud of boots belonging to the ordinary citizens they had managed to pull from the ruins of the capital. "Keep moving!" Alberu’s voice cracked, his throat raw from hours of shouting commands over the roar of collapsing buildings and dying screams. His regal armor, once polished to a dazzling sheen, was now dented, smeared with soot, and stained with blood that was not his own. Another agonizing hour had slipped away into this endless night, yet the boundary of the woods remained entirely out of reach. Trees mutated into bizarre, twisted shapes, their leaves whispering in a language of malice. Behind him, the ordinary survivors stumbled, their knees buckling as they gasped for air. Several fell to the damp, rotten earth, their hands clawing at the dirt as if trying to drag themselves forward through sheer willpower. Strangely, his own legs felt light, almost weightless. A chilling realization settled in his gut; despite running for hours, his muscles did not burn with exhaustion, nor did Choi Han or Rosalyn show any signs of physical fatigue. It was an unnatural endurance, a cruel trick of this bizarre landscape designed to prolong their torment. Beside him, Choi Han ran with a silent, lethal grace, his hand never leaving the hilt of his sword. The young sword master’s face was a mask of cold fury, his eyes darting toward the canopy every time a branch snapped. Rosalyn hovered slightly off the ground, her mana flickering like a dying ember, yet her expression remained fiercely determined. Red spheres of light orbited her wrists, casting a bloody glow over the terrified faces of the refugees. Lock carried two crying children in his arms, his broad shoulders hunched to protect them from the low-hanging thorns. His wolf ears twitched violently, catching sounds that Alberu’s human senses could not yet register. Beacrox brought up the rear, his white gloves stained with dirt and old blood, his eyes scanning the impenetrable gloom with a grim, silent intensity. "Your Highness, the forest has no end," Choi Han whispered, his voice cutting through the rustling leaves. "We have been running in a straight line, but the stars haven't shifted. Space is warping around us." "We must find a clearing," Alberu gritted out, his jaw aching from how hard he clenched his teeth. "If we stop in the open, we are sitting ducks. If we keep running, we exhaust the civilians until they can no longer stand. We have no choice." Cold sweat dripped down his neck, soaking into his collar. He was their leader, the crown prince who was supposed to guide them to safety, yet every decision he made felt like a slow march toward their graves. "Alberu!" Cale’s voice was low, but it carried a weight that made everyone halt. The red-haired commander stood near a massive, decayed oak tree, his hand pressed against its trunk as if listening to the earth itself. Turning back, Alberu felt a spike of dread hit his chest. Cale looked terrible; his face was devoid of color, his breathing shallow, and his clothes were damp with sweat and dried blood. The ancient powers he wielded so recklessly were taking their toll, eating away at his life force. "He is here," Cale whispered, his eyes widening in sudden, sharp alarm. Suddenly, the ground beneath them convulsed. A tremor of pure, unadulterated terror rippled through the earth, throwing several refugees to their knees. Above them, the canopy of dark leaves shattered as a column of searing, white-hot fire tore through the night sky. The light was blinding, casting long, monstrous shadows across the forest floor. Mocking laughter echoed from the heavens, a sound that made Alberu’s blood run cold. Down from the sky descended a figure clad in red robes, wearing a white mask that seemed to gleam with sadistic pleasure. White Star hovered above the trees, his hands wreathed in a terrifying combination of blazing fire and swirling wind. Beside him, the air rippled as dark, monstrous entities from the Demon Realm began to manifest, their red eyes glowing in the dark. "Did you truly believe you could run from me?" the White Star sneered, his voice amplified by the wind. "There is no corner of this world that I will not burn to ashes. Your sanctuary is gone. Your kingdom is gone. You have nothing left." With a flick of his wrist, a massive torrent of fire descended toward the huddled group of survivors. The heat was so intense that the surrounding trees instantly withered and burst into flames. "Shield!" Rosalyn cried out, throwing her hands upward as a massive, hexagonal barrier of red mana materialized above their heads. Choi Han leapt into the air, his black aura bursting from his blade like a striking serpent, slicing through the descending monsters to keep them from swarming the barrier. Alberu drew his spear, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the cold metal. He wanted to leap into the fray, to stand beside Choi Han and fight, but his duty anchored him to the ground. He had to protect the people. Tragedy struck in a fraction of a second. The White Star’s fire slammed into Rosalyn’s barrier, the sheer force of the impact sending shockwaves through the ground. Rosalyn gasped, blood leaking from her nose as her mana cracked under the immense pressure. "I will handle this," Cale muttered, stepping past Alberu. "Cale, no! Your body can't take another hit!" Alberu reached out to grab Cale’s shoulder, but his hand caught only empty air. Silver light erupted from Cale’s body as the Indestructible Shield materialized, its massive wings spreading to reinforce Rosalyn’s failing defense. The silver shield clashed with the White Star’s flames, creating a deafening explosion that shook the very foundations of the forest. Alberu, gripping his sword so hard his knuckles ache, watches Cale barely parry a searing attack from the White Star. Despair claws at Alberu's throat as he sees the last of their sanctuary crumble under the assault, solidifying his belief that he is failing everyone again. "Is this the limit of your power, Commander?" the White Star mocked, unleashing another wave of compressed wind and fire. The attack struck the silver shield with the force of a falling meteor. Cracks spiderwebbed across the silver light. Cale doubled over, a violent cough racking his frame as a spray of dark blood erupted from his mouth, staining the ground beneath him. "Cale!" Alberu screamed, his voice lost in the roaring wind. He watched in absolute horror as the shield shattered into a million sparkling fragments, leaving them completely defenseless. Screams of pure terror rose from the refugees as the protective barrier dissolved entirely, the surrounding forest catching fire and locking them in a ring of absolute destruction. Every promise Alberu had made to his people, to his friends, and to himself felt like a mockery. He was the crown prince, yet he could do nothing but watch them die one by one. As the ground beneath them fractured into a crimson abyss, Alberu felt a phantom hand grip his arm, pulling him towards an unnatural, shimmering red gate that pulsed with an ominous light.

Chapter 1: Scarred Earth, Crimson Gate