[The Royal Plaza - High Noon]

The sky above Ironforge was usually a suffocating blanket of grey smog and industrial soot. But today, for the first time in years, the sky was a piercing, unnatural blue.

Regent Thrain had ordered the weather-control arrays to be overclocked, burning millions of mana crystals to part the clouds. He wanted the sun to shine on his golden moment.

The Royal Plaza was packed.

In the center, a raised dais of black marble held a massive golden throne.

Surrounding the dais were ten thousand soldiers of the Iron Legion. They stood in perfect, terrifying formation—silent, steam-powered cyborgs encased in black steel, their red ocular sensors scanning the crowd.

Behind the wall of steel, hundreds of thousands of dwarven citizens were crammed into the square. They were starving, dirty, and terrified. Twilight Cultists moved through the crowd like vipers, their staffs glowing with threatening magic to ensure silence.

And floating high above the plaza was a massive Magitech Projection Crystal, broadcasting the scene live to every major city on the continent of Elias.

[The World Watches]

Thrain didn't just want to rule the Dwarves; he wanted to send a message to the world.

[The Elven Empire]

In the restored throne room of the World Tree, Queen Aelinor sat with her advisors. On her lap, the baby Princess cooed, reaching for the magical screen hovering in the air.

Aelinor watched the screen, her eyes narrowing as she saw the sheer scale of the Iron Legion. "Ten thousand mechanical soldiers..." a general whispered fearfully.

"That is an invasion force." Aelinor smiled, a small, knowing curve of her lips. "Watch closely," she whispered to the baby. "Your cousin is about to crash the party."

[The Human Empire]

In a dimly lit war room, the Second Prince swirled a glass of wine, watching the broadcast with a sneer. "Thrain is dramatic," the Prince scoffed. "But effective. With the Dwarves under the Void banner, the continent is ours."

[Silverwood Adventurer's Guild]

Garrick sat with his feet on his desk, blowing smoke rings at the projection. "Ironforge..." Garrick muttered, his fists clenching.

"Theron's kid went that way. If he's dead, Thrain is going to pay."

[The Western Mountains]

A massive Red Dragon, resting atop a hoard of gold, opened one slit eye. It watched the tiny figures on the magical screen. "The insects are noisy today."

…............................…

[The Speech]

On the dais, trumpets blared.

Regent Thrain stood up. He wore a robe of purple velvet and a crown that was slightly too big for his head. He looked every bit the arrogant tyrant.

He stepped up to the podium, his voice amplified by magic to boom across the plaza.

"Citizens of the Ironclan! People of Elias!"

"For centuries, we were the smiths of the world. We hid in our mountains. We forged weapons for humans who looked down on us! We built walls for elves who pitied us!"

Thrain gestured to the silent legion of cyborgs.

"But look at us now! We are no longer servants! We are Iron! We are Steel! We do not need friends. We need Order!"

The crowd remained silent. No one cheered. The fear in the air was thick enough to taste.

"However," Thrain's voice dropped to a snarl. "There are weeds in the garden. Traitors who cling to the old, weak ways."

He pointed to the side of the stage.

"Bring them out!"

Four figures were dragged onto the dais. They were beaten, bruised, and covered in black sacks.

"These are the leaders of the so-called 'Resistance,'" Thrain lied smoothly. "Spies sent by the Human Empire to destabilize our glorious revolution."

He turned to the Executioners.

There were four of them. Massive, imposing figures draped in heavy black robes that hid their faces completely. They held enormous, double-headed greataxes.

"Executioners!" Thrain commanded. "Prepare the traitors!"

The four black-robed figures stepped forward. They moved with a strange, fluid grace that didn't match their bulky appearance.

They kicked the prisoners down to the kneeling blocks.

The crowd held its breath. The camera drone zoomed in, capturing the gleam of the executioners' axes.

Thrain raised his hand, savoring the moment. The entire world was watching him.

"Let this be a lesson to all who oppose the New Order," Thrain shouted.

"Executioners! Take their heads!"

The crowd flinched.

But the axes didn't fall.

The lead Executioner, standing behind the first prisoner, didn't swing. He simply leaned on his axe handle, looking bored.

"Regent," a voice spoke from beneath the black hood.

It wasn't the gruff voice of a dwarf. It was a young, calm, and terrifyingly arrogant voice. And thanks to a subtle manipulation of mana, it was amplified louder than the Regent's own microphone.

"Your speech was boring."

The silence in the plaza shattered. The crowd gasped. Thrain froze, his hand half-raised.

"What?" Thrain sputtered, turning to face the Executioner. "What did you say, filth? Do your job!"

"I said," the Executioner continued, his voice echoing across the continent. "It was boring. 'Iron and Steel'? 'New Order'? It's a bit cliché, isn't it?"

The Executioner stepped over the prisoner. He walked toward the throne.

"Who are you?!" Thrain shouted, stepping back as his Royal Guards rushed forward to intercept. "Kill him!"

"Who am I?"

The figure laughed.

He reached up and grabbed the black hood.

RIP.

With a dramatic flourish, he tore the executioner's robe away.

Underneath, he wasn't wearing leather. He was wearing a sleek, matte-black combat coat reinforced with spider-silk. A long, translucent crystal sword was strapped to his back.

But it was his face that stole the show.

He wore a smooth, white porcelain mask. It had no mouth, no nose, only two eye slits that glowed with unnatural light.

The left eye was Abyssal Black. The right eye was Dragon Gold.

And painted on the forehead of the mask was a simple, black symbol:

"0"

"I am Zero," the masked figure declared.

Behind him, the other three executioners threw off their robes.

Leona roared, her Golden Armor shining in the sun, her lion mane flowing free. Isabelle ignited, her demon horns bursting forth as crimson fire wreathed her hands.

Lyra nocked three arrows to her Phantom Bow in a split second, aiming directly at the Royal Guards.

The crowd erupted into screams of shock.

On the global broadcast, viewers leaned in.

Queen Aelinor laughed out loud.

Garrick dropped his cigar. "Zero? Who the hell is Zero?"

Zero ignored the guards rushing at him. He looked directly into the camera drone, addressing the millions watching.

"Regent Thrain," Zero said, his voice cold and absolute.

"You are charged with High Treason against the King. You are charged with the enslavement of your people. And you are charged with wasting my time."

Zero drew the Pantheon Sword. It hummed with a terrifying white light.

"The sentence... is Death."

Thrain's face turned purple with rage and fear. He pointed a trembling finger at Zero.

"Kill them! Kill them all! Ten thousand gold for their heads!"

The ten thousand soldiers of the Iron Legion surged forward. The ground shook as the army of steel began to charge.

It was four people against an army.

Zero didn't flinch. He looked at the Regent.

"You brought an army?" Zero asked, tilting his masked head.

He slammed his foot onto the ground.

"Good. So did I."

BOOM!

The cobblestones of the plaza exploded.

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