[Timeline: Time skip Year 4 (One Month Later)]

[Location: The Ashen Belt – Hidden Base "Zero"]

The Ashen Belt was a desolate stretch of grey rock and eternal fog, located in the unclaimed territory between the Northern Wastes and the Human Kingdoms.

It was a place where nothing grew, and no one lived.

Perfect for an army that didn't exist.

Deep within a labyrinth of slot canyons, a fortress was rising.

It wasn't built with cranes or laborers. It was carved directly into the cliff faces by wind magic and bone claws.

On the valley floor, Unit Zero, the twelve Valkyries were drilling.

They moved in perfect, terrifying unison.

They wore new prototype armor: sleek, matte-black plating that absorbed light, crafted from the carapace of Void Beasts and reinforced with Elven enchantments.

"Strike!" Lyra commanded from the ridge.

The twelve Valkyries blurred. Utilising their[Void Step] ability, they blinked forward ten meters in a pulse of purple mana.

SLASH.

Twelve training dummies, reinforced iron golems were bisected instantly. The cuts were so clean the top halves didn't slide off for a full second.

Alpha wiped her bone-claw, which was now sheathed in a custom gauntlet.

She looked up at Lyra and saluted. The feral madness of the mines was gone, replaced by the cold, razor-sharp discipline of a soldier.

Lyra nodded. "Again. Faster."

A low hum vibrated the air.

Lyra looked up. The heavy grey clouds parted silently.

A massive silhouette descended. A ship as large as a dragon rained down from the sky.

But unlike regular ships, it had no sails.

It was a hull of black steel, kept aloft by four rotating mana-turbines that emitted a soft, barely audible whine.

It was a Stealth Airship. Dwarven tech, stolen and modified by Hephaestus, funded by Isabelle.

The ship touched down in the canyon, its landing gear crushing the gravel. The cargo ramp hissed open.

A man in a heavy fur coat walked down, a merchant of the Golden Coin Guild.

"General Lyra," the merchant bowed, shivering slightly as he looked at the Valkyries.

"The Treasurer sends his regards."

Lyra slid down the cliff face on a cushion of wind, landing softly in front of him.

"You're late, Silas," Lyra said, her voice flat.

"Apologies, General," Silas stammered, gesturing to the crew to start unloading crates.

"The Imperial air patrols are heavy this month. The Emperor is paranoid about the rumours of the 'Pale Ghost'."

Lyra smirked. "Good. Let him be paranoid."

She walked over to the first crate. She pried it open.

Inside lay rows of gleaming, high-grade Magitech Rifles. Next to them were crates of condensed mana crystals and medical supplies.

"The Treasurer also sent this," Silas said, handing her a heavy, sealed metal case.

Lyra opened it.

Inside sat a small, intricate device. A Mana-Encryption Transmitter.

It was the only way to send a message to the Central Continent without alerting the Divine Interference grid.

It bounced the signal through hundreds of dummy relays before reaching its destination.

"It's a one-way burst," Silas warned. "Short text only."

Lyra picked up the stylus.

She hesitated. There were so many things she wanted to say. She wanted to tell Damien about the mines.

About the reactor, about the cultists and templars, about the captured elves

However, all that would have to be done when they finally met again.

When they met again, she would not only surprise him with how much she had grown in strength, but also a group of loyal subordinates who were equally as powerful.

For the end of the world Damien had warned them about multiple times, and the war he threatened to come.

She knew she could not afford to slack off even a bit, for her and for the elves. She had to get as much as possible before then

Considering this, she wrote a single line.

[The North is secure. The Valkyries are awake. We await for the signal.]

She encoded the message with her mana signature, a swirl of grey wind.

SEND.

The device hummed, flashed green once, and then went dead as the crystal inside shattered, destroying the evidence.

"Tell Barnaby we are digging in," Lyra said, handing the case back.

"We will expand the network into the Beast Lands. Leona needs support."

"Understood," Silas nodded.

"Oh, and... the Treasurer wanted you to know. The 'Phantom Type-1' prototype is finished. Hephaestus finally got the engine stable."

Lyra raised an eyebrow. "The mana-car Damien designed?"

"Yes. It goes to market next year. The world is about to change, General."

Lyra looked at the crates of weapons, then at her Valkyries, who were watching her with fanatical loyalty.

"It already has," she whispered.

She turned back to her army.

"Unload the ship!" Lyra barked.

"Then back to drills! If you want to kill gods, you have to train like demons!"

"YES, GENERAL!" the Valkyries roared, their voices echoing off the canyon walls.

….......…

[The Lens Zooms Out]

The camera pulls back, rising high above the Mist Canyons, above the grey clouds, until the continent of Terra is just a map on a table.

But this map is changing.

In the Ashen Borderlands, a grey stain is spreading, Lyra and her Pale Legion, hunting the shadows of the Twilight Association.

In the South, the mountains of the Dwarves are glowing with industry. Smoke rises from the forges of Ironforge, where Hephaestus is building the war machine of the future.

In the Empire, gold coins flow like rivers. The Golden Dawn Consortium, led by Isabelle and Barnaby, is buying ports, bribing kings, and strangling the economy of the Human Empires.

And in the North, the Beast Tribes are uniting under the banner of the White Lion.

It was a spiderweb. A massive, invisible net being woven around the world.

And at the center of the web, hidden in the shadows of the timeline, a timer is ticking down.

[Time Remaining: 10 Years...]

The pieces are set. The board is ready.

The wait was nearing it's end.

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