Kingdom of Night

A golden-crowned Soraza eagle soared through the thick clouds, riding the wind and snow, heading straight for the Black Iron City of Sors. As it descended into a dark alley, it shook its feathers, releasing hundreds of strands of dark green light that danced like ribbons in the wind. As the feathers swirled and settled, they transformed into an old man with silver hair and a silver beard. Pulling his deep hood forward to cover his entire face, the old man clasped his hands inside his wide sleeves, exhaling a white breath. His steps were slightly unsteady as he walked out of the alley and headed toward the distant, bustling sounds of the city. The sky was overcast, and the drifting snowflakes added to the chill. The air seemed to carry the damp, biting smell of the Storm Sea from over a hundred kilometers away. This winter of the Frost Year felt especially cold. However, in the Black Iron Square at the center of Sors, there was something boiling — the people's hearts. "Hang him!" "Burn this damned werewolf!" "Cut off his head and mount it on a flagpole!" "To hell with the fallen one!"... The target of the crowd's anger and scorn was a young prisoner, a werewolf with purplish-red blood named Neo. A basketful of physical evidence had already been presented, and four witnesses had taken the stand. The judge, neatly groomed with a mustache and clad in a black woolen uniform, announced Neo's final and most serious crime through a loudspeaker: "The highest crime committed by the slave gladiator of the Manmores family: treason!..." Ungrateful, treacherous, and unpardonable. This was the supreme law of the world of Aemira, its origins rumored to be from the betrayal of the once-glorious Lucifer against the True God. This crime would surely result in death, without exception. And now, there was no sign that Neo had any chance to refute this accusation. A middle-aged woman rushed out from the crowd, pushing aside the gendarmes maintaining order, and fell upon Neo. Despite two gendarmes following closely to restrain her, she desperately scratched and kicked Neo while crying and screaming, "You damned devil, give me back my son, give me back my son..." Neo watched the woman calmly, her nails leaving bloody marks on his face and chest. He clearly remembered that among the charges of 'dark corruption' against him was the brutal murder of a 14-year-old boy, and this woman was the boy's only blood relative and the main eyewitness to the crime. However, on the night of the so-called bloodshed, Neo had been at the Tures Estate over 70 miles from Sors... In Neo's sky-blue eyes, there was no anger or hatred, only the frenzied and ugly reflection of the woman. He did not hate this perjuring woman; she was merely a tool. Neo cared more about the one using the tool because, until now, he could not understand who hated him so much that they wanted him dead and humiliated before death. The clean and calm gaze of Neo made the woman feel even more ashamed and frantic. Amid her confusion and mixed with shame and anger, at the last moment of being pulled away by the guards, she spat thick saliva onto Neo's face. On the north side of the square, on a temporary high platform, Viscount Eldritch maintained his usual poker face, looking as if he was in a good mood. Only those familiar with him could tell from the glint in his eyes that he was quite pleased and even a little smug. "The public trial went well. The frenzied act of the bereaved woman was a masterstroke. Well done, Will…" thought Viscount Eldritch. He did not care if the one executed was a werewolf or a human, a slave or a free man, innocent or guilty. What mattered to him was that the crime fit the requirement, and the political significance behind the trial. Ultimately, Eldritch cared about his ruling position; a few deaths meant nothing for its stability. Of course, there were those who did care, like Will, who worked diligently for Viscount Eldritch. Although Will, as a favored servant of the Viscount, was treated politely even by barons, he was still just a steward and not qualified to stand close to the Viscount in public. Perhaps due to his age, Will's heart was still somewhat warm. He sighed softly to a noble lady beside him, "I actually enjoyed watching this gladiator's matches; it's a shame…" The young noblewoman, in her rebellious phase, displayed her boredom openly. Compared to watching this grim and bloody political ritual and hearing hypocritical speeches, she preferred to sneak glances at the airship slowly approaching under the clouds. This new thing, which appeared just last year, looked strange and interesting to her. "Huh? Is the airship laying an egg?" the noblewoman mumbled. "What did you say, Miss Bertha?" Will was puzzled, but the next moment, he understood what was happening and stood there with his mouth agape, eyes full of disbelief and terror. The airship was indeed laying an egg, or more accurately, it was releasing war pods. War pods! The deadly enemies of life, the residents of hell — the unique airborne troops of demons! The war pods looked like oversized castor beans, dark green with hard spines on the surface, each weighing over 700 pounds. When dropped from the air, they struck with the force of a titan's hammer. Boom! Boom! Boom! Destruction unfolded in a series of thunderous roars, heralding the beginning of blood and fire. In the next moment, explosions, sirens, and screams echoed through the Black Iron Square; cowering figures, running figures, pushing and trampling figures intertwined into a cruel picture. The solemnity was gone, replaced by the onset of an apocalypse. Neo, at that time, was being escorted by two burly gendarmes to the guillotine. His heinous crimes meant he was not even worthy of hanging; as some of the frenzied crowd had shouted, his head would be chopped off and mounted on a flagpole for ten days as a warning. Neo was unwilling to be slaughtered like this. Even setting aside the grave injustice, he would never accept being killed without a fight. Initially, Neo had planned to use a move to break free before being bound to the guillotine, but a war pod changed the situation. Boom! The wooden steps to the guillotine were completely shattered, wood chips, stones, and snow flying everywhere. A small piece grazed Neo's cheek, leaving a thin cut. The war pod's fall was abrupt, but in that instant, Neo did not blink. This was not a gift or a sign of slow reactions but a skill honed through arduous training. The two gendarmes escorting Neo did not have his steely will. The war pod landed less than three meters away, and both instinctively shielded their faces with their arms. Because of this, they failed to see the cracks rapidly spreading across the war pod's surface and the deep red light emanating from within. Like the iron bombs made by the Dendrazores gnomes, the war pod exploded upon impact. Its hard shell became flying shards, shooting in all directions with tremendous force. In the blast, Neo and the two gendarmes were thrown back several meters like thick papers in a gale. The difference was that Neo was much more prepared and managed two critical actions before the explosion: 1. Dodge. He positioned himself behind one of the gendarmes, minimizing the threat. Only a shard grazed his leg, a minor wound he could ignore. 2. Leap. Before the shockwave hit, Neo had already launched himself sideways, reducing the impact. Crashing down and rolling, the clinking of his chains against the stone slabs was sharp and clear. Neo quickly got up into a half-crouch, then dashed off again, his movements fluid and swift, as if in perfect sync with the war pod's drop.