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Chapter 194 – The Rebirth of an Army
Chapter 194 – The Rebirth of an Army
Smoke still lingered in the air, curling into the sky like dying whispers of the battle that had just ended. The scent of blood, charred flesh, and burning ruins clung to the battlefield, seeping into the very ground beneath Seraphis' feet. The silence was deafening.
She stood at the highest point of the war-torn field, her silver-white hair stained with soot and crimson streaks. Her breathing was steady, but the weight of what had transpired bore down on her shoulders like an unshakable burden.
The battle was over. But the cost…
Seraphis turned her gaze to what remained of her forces.
Where once there had been a mighty legion, only 300 of her warriors remained.
The Golden Warriors, once a shining force of unbreakable unity, now stood in solemn silence, their armor dented and stained, their golden gleam dulled by blood and fire. They had fought valiantly, but the enemy had been relentless.
She clenched her fists. Not enough.
They needed to rebuild.
They needed to rise again.
Assessing the Aftermath
Seraphis walked among the survivors, her keen eyes studying every face, every wound. Some warriors leaned on their weapons, barely able to stand. Others sat on the ground, sharpening their blades despite their injuries—warriors to the end.
"Report," she commanded, her voice cutting through the heavy air like steel.
One of her captains, a towering figure clad in scratched golden armor, stepped forward. His helmet was missing, revealing deep gashes across his face.
"We lost… too many," he admitted. "But we stand, Lady Seraphis. We await your orders."
She nodded. There was no time for mourning. Not yet.
Her gaze drifted across the battlefield. Among the corpses, resources lay scattered—armor, weapons, remnants of the fallen enemy, and the shattered husks of their own warriors.
These materials would not be wasted.
They would rebuild.
Gathering the Materials
The surviving troops spread out, gathering whatever could be salvaged.
Golden shards from broken warriors. Swords bent from impact. Severed armor plates, their engravings marred but still potent with power.
Even the fallen vampires' weapons were collected—strange, obsidian-forged blades that pulsed with residual dark energy. Seraphis would purify them, repurpose them into something new.
Hours passed. The sun crept over the horizon, bathing the battlefield in eerie light. The once-blackened sky now revealed the full extent of the destruction.
Piles of twisted metal. Weapons sticking out of the ground like gravestones. Bodies, human and inhuman, stretched as far as the eye could see.
And yet, Seraphis felt no sorrow.
She felt determination.
She would forge anew.
The Reforging Begins
With the materials gathered, the army retreated to the ruins of Raven Tower. The great forge, though cracked from battle, still stood.
Seraphis stepped inside, the heat from the embers licking at her skin.
She removed her gloves, placing her hands upon the anvil. The forge reacted instantly—runes ignited, golden light flooding the room. The metal gathered around her began to shift, melting, reshaping.
The process would take time.
The warriors stood outside, watching as Seraphis worked.
She took the remains of their fallen, merging them with the new metal. Their spirits would not be forgotten. Their essence would be reborn into something stronger.
The first piece of armor took shape.
A chest plate—black as midnight, with a white raven crest etched across its center.
A symbol of rebirth.
A reminder that they would not fall.
One by one, the pieces were forged. Helmets with reinforced visors. Gauntlets engraved with protective sigils. Leg guards built to withstand even the strongest blows.
Hours turned into days. Seraphis did not rest.
Her fingers bled. Sweat drenched her body. But she continued.
She would not stop until they were whole again.
The Awakening of the New Warriors
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the warriors stood before her.
550 in total.
Their new armor gleamed under the dim torchlight—black as night, with the white raven crest shining like a beacon.
Seraphis stepped forward, her voice steady.
"You are reborn."
The warriors dropped to one knee, their weapons planted into the ground in unison.
"Lady Seraphis," they spoke as one.
She gazed upon them, her heart swelling with something she rarely allowed herself to feel—pride.
They would march again.
They would not fall.
They were her army.
And this was only the beginning.