Boom!

With a sound like tearing canvas, reality twisted violently above the obsidian war table.

CRASH.

Four bodies plummeted from the distortion, slamming onto the hard stone table and rolling onto the floor in a tangle of limbs and weaponry.

"Ugh..." Lukas groaned, dry-heaving as he hit the ground. His new gauntlets were smoking, radiating waves of heat that smelled of ozone and burnt sand.

Alaric landed heavily, the massive Anvil clattering across the floor with a deafening clang. Elena tumbled next to him, coughing up desert grit.

While Lyra just stood calmly coming out of Alfred's teleport

Unfortunately, different from her, the students looked like they had been chewed up and spat out by a hurricane.

Not only that, but in their center Alfred's figure landed perfectly.

Touching down with the grace of a falling feather. He stood upright, adjusted his wire-rimmed glasses, and brushed a singular speck of dust from the lapel of his tailcoat.

"My apologies for the intrusion, Your Majesty," Alfred said, his voice calm and polite.

"The extraction was... abrupt."

King Durin jumped back, his hand flying to the warhammer at his belt.

Leona, who had been standing guard by the throne, roared, her Lioness aura flaring as her void gauntlets shone brighter.

"Alaric? Lukas?" Leona gasped, rushing forward.

The heavy blast doors of the War Room burst open. Brokk and Hephaestus rushed in, clutching blueprints, their faces pale.

"We heard a loud noise!" Hephaestus shouted, wielding a wrench like a mace.

"Are we under atta—"

He stopped, staring at the smoking, battered strike team.

"Water..." Alaric croaked, pushing himself up to a sitting position.

"Lyra, what happened?" Durin asked, his voice tight.

"It's worse than we thought," Lyra said, her voice raspy.

"They aren't hiding anymore. The Golden Dragon banners are flying right next to the Void Cultist sigils."

A ripple of shock went through the room.

"Open heresy?" Durin whispered. "The Second Prince has truly lost his mind."

"He hasn't lost his mind," Lyra corrected. "He's traded it for power. With at least fifty thousand soldiers. Void beasts. And..."

She paused, looking at Brokk.

"They brought Ancient War Titans. Three of them."

Brokk dropped his blueprints. The parchment scattered across the floor.

"Titans?" Brokk breathed, his face draining of color.

"First Era Siege Breakers? Those things are mountains that walk. They have rune-cannons that can vaporize a city block."

"We saw," Lukas muttered, looking at his scorched gauntlets. "One shot turned a sand dune into glass."

"It seems he's really going all out" Lyra finished, leaning heavily on the table

King Durin sank slowly into his obsidian throne. The weight of the news seemed to age him another ten years in seconds.

He looked at the holographic map. The red tide was no longer just a dot; it was a looming tsunami.

"Three Titans," Durin murmured. "The Wall can't hold that."

He closed his eyes for a second, then opened them. The despair was gone. In its place was the cold, hard steel of the King of Weapons.

He stood up.

"Hephaestus!" Durin barked.

"Aye, Father!"

"Open the Deep Mines. Prepare the shelters. I want every civilian, every child, and every elder underground within the hour. Seal the blast doors behind them. If the wall breaches, the bloodline must survive."

"Done," Hephaestus said, turning to run.

"Brokk!"

"Here, King!"

"Wake them up," Durin ordered. "All of them. Every Ironclad in the hangar. Every cannon in the foundry. Every prototype we haven't tested. If it can shoot, put a dwarf behind it."

"We will empty the armory," Brokk vowed, rushing out after Hephaestus.

The room cleared, leaving only the King, the students, and Alfred.

Durin walked to the map. He traced a line from the Dwarven Mountains to the West, to the Silver Woods.

"We can't hold them alone," Durin admitted softly.

"Not fifty thousand. Not three Titans. Even with the mechs... we will run out of ammo before they run out of bodies."

He looked at Leona.

"And if Ironforge falls... the Elves are next. The Empire will take my factories and use my own weapons to burn the forests."

Durin reached into his armored tunic. His fingers trembled slightly as he pulled out a jagged, green crystal. It pulsed with a faint, ancient life force.

Leona's eyes widened. "Is that...?"

"A relic from a lifetime ago," Durin grunted.

He looked at the crystal with a mixture of nostalgia and sadness.

"Theron is gone. Garrick is... complicated. But Aelinor is still Queen. It is time for two of the Five Kings to fight together again."

He poured his mana into the crystal.

HUMMM.

The crystal vibrated violently. A beam of emerald light shot up from his hand, projecting a shimmering holographic screen into the air.

Static crackled. Then, an image resolved.

It was a throne room woven from living branches and moonlight. Seated on a throne of white wood was a woman of breathtaking beauty.

She had long silver hair and ears that tapered to sharp points.

Queen Aelinor of the High Elves.

She looked tired. The weight of the world was pressing on her, too.

She looked up, her eyes widening as the connection stabilized.

"Durin?" Aelinor's voice was melodic, but laced with surprise.

"It has been a long time since you used this channel. I thought you had forgotten the frequency."

"I forget nothing, Ellie," Durin rumbled, using her old nickname.

Aelinor's expression softened instantly.

"Why do you call, old friend?"

"The world is burning, Aelinor," Durin said, his voice breaking slightly.

"The Empire is at my door. The Void is with them, these bastards are really driving me to a corner"

He took a deep breath.

"I cannot hold them alone…."

Aelinor hesitated. "Durin..."

Durin stepped aside.

The camera angle shifted.

Aelinor saw the room behind him. She saw Alfred, standing stoically. She saw Lyra and Leona, the Lioness she had once mentored.

And she saw the students. Alaric, Lukas, and her daughter Elena.

Battered. Bleeding. Scorched. But standing tall, ready to fight for a kingdom that wasn't theirs.

"Are those...?" Aelinor whispered.

"Zero's students," Durin confirmed. "That kid really knows how recruit people"

Aelinor stared at the young faces. She saw the fire in their eyes, the same fire she had seen in a young Theron Voss, and later, in his son.

The hesitation vanished from the Queen's face. She stood up from her throne, grabbing a bow made of white starlight.

"sixteen years," Aelinor said, her voice cold as winter ice. "It's time to show the world the elves are not fallen after sixteen years!"

She looked Durin in the eye.

"Light the beacons, King Durin. The Silver Woods stands with the Iron Mountain."

The connection cut.

Durin lowered the crystal, a grim smile spreading across his face.

"Get up," Durin said to the students. "Get your armor. The Elves are coming."

"And so is the dawn."

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