yournovel Chapter 253: Warning
Chapter 253: Warning
The Gale Prairie, high noon.
Sunlight poured over the boundless grasslands, and a gentle breeze stirred the
emerald blades into a series of rolling, rhythmic waves. On the battlements of
Gale City, several demi-humans—half-beastkin workers waiting for a
shipment—leaned lazily against the stone, surrendering themselves to a rare
moment of leisure.
"The weather is unnervingly pleasant today," a young werewolf remarked, letting
out a wide yawn as his furry tail swept the stone lazily behind him.
"Aye, if only every cycle could remain this still," a bear-man rumbled beside
him. He patted his protruding belly and let out a guttural chuckle. "Be
grateful. Since the Evernight Empire unified the continent, our lot has improved
significantly. Those human nobles of the old world... they never even looked at
us as people, did they?"
"Not once," a kobold added, rolling over to ensure the sun hit his belly. "In
the old kingdoms—especially in the elven territories or the human heartlands—we
couldn't even get through the city gates without being spat on. Now? We're all
Imperial Citizens. We pay the same tax, obey the same laws. No one dares look
down on another."
The porters continued their idle chatter, their voices a small part of the
vibrant life within the city walls.
Below them, the main thoroughfare of Gale City was a sea of movement. This city
served as a primary hub for the beastkin tribes, but since the Unification and
the launch of Dragon Aviation, travelers from every corner of the world had
begun to flock here.
"Mama, look! Look! So many big dog-uncles!" A young human girl with pigtails
pointed excitedly at an Orc vendor grilling meat at a roadside stall.
The Orc heard her and grinned, revealing tusks that glistened as he lifted a
sizzling skewer with a pair of iron tongs. "Little pup, would you like a taste
of the Gale Prairie's finest roast? Prepared the beastkin way!"
"Yes! Yes!" The girl released her mother's hand and sprinted toward the stall,
her eyes fixed on the meat while her mouth watered. Her parents hurried after
her, offering apologetic smiles to the vendor as they paid the copper coins.
Similar scenes of harmony played out across every district. Elven tourists
scrutinized handmade crafts at a beastkin forge; Dwarven merchants engaged in
heated trade debates with the local Chamber of Commerce; even a few Succubi sat
elegantly at an outdoor tea-house, sipping local milk-tea.
This was the image of the Evernight Empire. Different races, different faiths,
and different cultures, all anchored to the same soil. There was no systemic
oppression—only a singular, shared identity: Subjects of the Sovereign.
In the center of the Grand Plaza, a monolithic statue towered over the city. It
was the image of the Sovereign of Evernight. The Skeleton King sat with one hand
supporting his skull, his hollow gaze fixed eternally on the horizon of his
kingdom. On the pedestal, a motto was etched in shimmering gold:
Hear the Sovereign's Command, Share the Evernight.
Countless citizens paused as they passed the icon, offering a respectful bow.
"Glory to the Sovereign," they whispered. "May the Evernight persist." These
weren't the forced gestures of a fearful populace, but a sincere gratitude. It
was the Sovereign who had terminated the millennia of chaotic wars, allowing
everyone—regardless of bloodline—to live with dignity.
In the midst of this tranquility, the variable manifested.
Ten kilometers to the east, in the heart of the open prairie, space began to
scream.
At first, it was a microscopic point of tension. Then, the point expanded,
tearing and bloating like an infected wound. A colossal rift manifested out of
thin air. Grey, necrotic energy bled from the jagged edges of the fracture,
swirling around a chaotic, light-drinking void.
Even at a distance of ten kilometers, the pressure radiating from the rift was a
physical weight, cold and suffocating.
The demi-human porters on the wall were the first to spot the anomaly. The
werewolf pointed a shaking finger toward the horizon. "What in the Blazes is
that?"
The bear-man squinted, his massive paw gripping the stone battlement. "I don't
know... it looks like... spatial magic? Is the Arcane Legion running a field
test?"
The kobold scrambled up, slapping dust from his scales. "Could be. Word has it
the Liches have been obsessing over long-range teleportation lately."
"Incredible! We're getting a front-row seat to an Imperial breakthrough!" The
workers chattered with excitement, entirely oblivious to the lethal nature of
the event.
The civilian population in the streets soon followed suit.
"Look at the sky! There's a tear in the world!" "Is it a magic show? Look how
big it is!" "It must be the Empire's new technology! This trip was worth every
silver coin just to see this!"
People stopped their work, pointing and cheering. Some artists even began
unfurling their parchment on the spot, desperate to capture the "magnificence"
of the rift. The city was drowning in a wave of naive wonder. No one understood
what that rift signified.
But there was one group of people who knew exactly what it was.
In every corner of the city, the patrolling soldiers of the Punishment Legion
halted their march in perfect synchronization. The soulfire in their sockets
flared into a violent, blinding blue.
"CONDITION RED! FULL ALERT!" a Centurion on duty roared, his voice amplified by
his Od. He turned and broke into a heavy sprint. "MAN THE WALLS! ARM THE ARRAYS!
NOW!"
"UNDERSTOOD!"
The surrounding Skeleton Berserkers responded in a single, mental roar, lunging
toward their combat stations without a second of hesitation. Their movements
were cold, mechanical, and efficient.
The civilians in the street were startled by the sudden shift. "What happened?"
"Where are the skeletons going?" "Is there a drill?"
The murmurs didn't last. A series of heavy, metallic bells began to toll across
the city—the Imperial War-Alarm.
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
Simultaneously, units from the Empire's Seven Armies began to manifest in the
public sectors. The atmosphere of Gale City shifted in a single heartbeat. The
tranquility was incinerated, replaced by the grim, sharp cold of an impending
slaughter.
The populace finally realized the gravity of the situation. "This... what is
this?" "Is it an assault?" "Impossible... the entire continent is under the
banner. Who is left to attack?" "Then why is the entire Legion mobilizing?!"
In the next moment, the Sisters and Priests of the Evernight Cathedral swarmed
into the streets, beginning the evacuation protocol.
"Faithful of the Evernight, do not surrender to panic!" a young Nun shouted, her
voice tight with a tension she was clearly struggling to manage. "According to
the Imperial Emergency Mandate, proceed immediately to the nearest subterranean
shelter!"
"I repeat: Proceed to the shelters! Everything is within the Sovereign's
calculation! The Evernight is with us!"
"THE EVERNIGHT IS WITH US!"
The phrase acted as a psychological anchor. The rippling panic began to settle.
Out of absolute trust in the Empire, the citizens began a disciplined descent
into the reinforced bunkers and underground plazas normally used for assemblies.
The little girl who had been eyeing the roast meat was gripped tightly by her
mother. She looked back at the sky one last time. That massive, grey rift... it
made her soul feel cold.
Her mother felt her shiver and pulled her into a protective embrace as they
reached the bunker doors. "It's alright, little bird. The Sovereign will protect
us. He always does."
☆☆☆
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