Jericho inhaled slowly.
The air shifted around him.
The others instinctively stepped back.
"Bend to my Will… I Summon Thee… One of The Four Divine Avatars of Nature…
Avatar of the Earth — Come Forth… Mitera… Nature Wall."
The wind answered first.
It rose in a sudden spiral, whipping dust and fabric into motion. The sun vanished behind gathering clouds, thick and heavy, rolling across the sky in unnatural speed.
Then the clouds split.
A radiant opening formed overhead.
From it descended a towering figure.
A female centaur with emerald skin and flowing green hair, descending as though gravity itself bowed before her. In her hands rested a living staff of intertwined wood and stone. She touched the ground with impossible grace, the earth steadying beneath her hooves.
She stood beside Jericho.
Massive. Regal.
Jericho, looked almost small next to her near eight-foot frame.
Mitera lowered her gaze to him.
And smiled.
It was warm. Ancient. Familiar.
"Welcome back, Mitera," Jericho said gently. "I would be grateful for your help, if you're willing."
Now that he understood the Divine Avatars possessed will and consciousness, he treated them accordingly.
Mitera's smile widened.
She nodded.
Erica stared in pure wonder.
The last time Mitera had been summoned, Erica had been unconscious. This was her first true sight of the Earth Avatar.
She looked divine beyond reason — powerful, elegant, terrifyingly beautiful.
Erica's breath caught.
But Lord Martin—
He had stopped functioning entirely.
His mouth hung open.
His guards were statues.
Mitera lifted her staff with both hands.
Then she brought it down.
The impact was silent.
And then—
The earth answered.
Stone surged upward from the soil in a roaring ring, rising at impossible speed. Walls formed and raced around the town's perimeter, encircling it in moments.
They did not stop at a single layer.
Or two.
Or ten.
The wall thickened — layer upon layer — until it stood massive and immovable, nearly fifty layers deep. Seamless. Reinforced by living stone.
No creature that walked on land would ever breach it.
Only the sky remained open.
When the rumbling ceased, the town stood sealed within a fortress born from divinity.
Mitera lowered her staff and looked back at Jericho, as though awaiting further command.
Jericho stepped closer and placed his hand gently against her side. She was tall — but not so immense that he could not reach her.
She leaned slightly into the touch.
"Thank you, Mitera. This is more than enough. You may return."
She smiled one last time.
Then she galloped forward — hooves striking stone — and leapt.
Before their eyes, she rose into the sky, dissolving into light as the clouds parted and sunlight poured down once more.
The world returned to normal.
Except the town was now a fortress.
"Jericho…" Erica whispered, almost trembling. "She was the most beautiful being I have ever seen. I feel like I committed a sin just by looking at her."
Jericho blinked. "I think that might be a bit dramatic, Erica. Please breathe."
Alice laughed softly.
William shook his head in disbelief. "I sometimes forget you're an actual god, Jericho. Pulling off miracles before breakfast… If only you'd learn restraint."
"I'm trying, William," Jericho muttered with a heavy sigh.
Alice suddenly pointed. "Um… I think we broke Lord Martin."
They turned.
He was still frozen. Mouth open. Eyes wide.
"Ah," Erica said. "Let's revive him."
⸻
After considerable explanation — and Jericho firmly rejecting any attempts at worship — Lord Martin finally regained composure.
"I understand now," he said quietly. "If the townspeople had witnessed that… I fear panic may have overtaken them. Please forgive my earlier doubts, Jericho. I did not know you, and I feared placing my people in danger."
He bowed deeply.
"Please… help my people. Lord Jericho."
Jericho winced slightly at the title but nodded. He had no intention of leaving until the town was safe.
William looked up at the towering wall. "…Wonderful work. Small problem though."
They followed his gaze.
There was no gate.
They were completely sealed inside.
They all burst into laughter.
Lord Martin did not.
"Well," Jericho said casually, "are we ready to explore the Darkburn Canopy?"
They nodded.
Martin blinked rapidly. "…How exactly do you plan to leave?"
"Oh, and Lord Martin," Jericho added, "while we're gone, please begin preparations for a proper gate. Once this is resolved, travelers should be able to enter freely again."
Martin nodded, still confused.
Jericho walked to where the town's main exit had once stood.
He inhaled again.
Carefully this time.
He drew back his fist — controlling the flow of power so it would not compromise the entire structure.
Then he punched.
The impact thundered.
Shockwaves rippled through the town. Inside their homes, citizens yelped and dove under tables, convinced an earthquake had struck.
Dust filled the air.
When it cleared, a perfect opening stood in the wall — enormous, clean-edged, the size of a grand city gate.
Martin opened his eyes slowly.
He stared.
Then, remarkably, he did not freeze this time.
Compared to summoning a divine centaur from the heavens…
This barely registered.
He straightened and immediately began issuing orders for gate construction.
He turned immediately to his guards.
"Mobilize the masons. Begin gate construction at once!"
Then he looked back at Jericho.
The disbelief was gone.
Now there was only certainty.
The world had changed.
And Jericho was at the center of it.
Jericho, satisfied, stepped forward —
Toward the forest.
⸻
Meanwhile, Prince Tazz was ready to begin his coup.
The scouts he had sent to study the knights' routines had returned.
One knelt before him.
"My Prince, as we already know, the castle is on high alert. However, with your strategy, I believe we will succeed. The north side of the castle is weakest at the crack of dawn. If we begin our attack there, we can breach the wall and slowly push inward, taking the castle in stages."
For the first time in days, Tazz smiled.
"Excellent work."
His eyes gleamed.
"In that case… at first light tomorrow, let us wake them with a bang."
His laughter echoed through the forest of Codar — low, sharp, and devious.
⸻
Dawn
Just as the sun began its ascent, the explosion came.
A thunderous blast struck the north wall of the castle.
The sound tore across the city, shaking buildings and rattling glass.
"We have been breached!" a knight shouted. "Everyone to position! I cannot believe the anonymous warning we received was accurate — I thought it a jest!"
Armor clanged as soldiers rushed into formation.
Through the mist-covered field, Prince Tazz's troops advanced.
They passed through the massive gap torn into the wall. Torn banners whipped in the cold dawn air.
At the rear of the march stood Prince Tazz.
His hand trembled on the hilt of his sword.
Not from fear.
From anticipation.
The first horn sounded — long and trembling — splitting the morning sky. Mist clung to the valley, turning his advancing forces into ghostly silhouettes.
His heart pounded.
"Forward," he commanded quietly.
Steel rasped as thousands of swords were drawn.
Arrows came first — dark streaks slicing through the sky.
Then came the crash.
Then the clash.
The gifted army he had received from Kolpa surged forward, meeting the Elite Holy Knights head-on. Soul castings and soul techniques rained from every direction. Shields slammed against shields. Swords shrieked as they collided.
The battlefield became a storm of light and steel.
⸻
One Hour Later
Something felt wrong.
Tazz's stomach twisted.
The knights were yielding ground too easily.
Too vulnerable.
Too exposed.
It unsettled him — but pride silenced caution.
He delayed the retreat he had originally planned.
When he finally gave the order—
It was too late.
The exits had been sealed.
Knights flooded the perimeter, cutting off escape.
And then—
Arrows rained down from above.
Not from the front.
From hidden vantage points.
They tore through his ranks, shredding defenses and turning the tide in an instant.
His men were blindsided.
The battlefield shifted from momentum to massacre.
⸻
The clash of steel grew distant as smoke swallowed the grand hall.
Tazz stepped over fallen bodies.
His men.
Their armor scorched and shattered.
{Something is horribly wrong.}
{I knew it.}
{It was too easy.}
{I let myself believe it.}
{I got carried away.}
Fear gripped him fully now.
Then he saw them.
Hidden archers lining the balconies.
Drawn crossbows gleaming.
And standing calmly at the forefront—
The acting captain Princess Erica had left behind to defend the city in her absence.
He wore a cold smirk.
"They knew…" Tazz whispered. "They knew all along."
His voice hollowed.
"This was a trap."
His sword slipped from his fingers.
"I have been pathetically defeated."
He was seized.
⸻
The realization cut deeper than any blade.
The throne room doors slammed shut behind him.
His surviving men shouted, trapped between stone walls and overwhelming force.
Then—
Through the haze of smoke and torchlight—
King Gustavious appeared.
Beside him stood the queen.
Her face was already broken with grief.
"When I received word that you were plotting a coup," the king began slowly, "I refused to believe it. My only son… my boy… I was certain you would never conceive of such treachery. Much less act upon it."
He exhaled heavily.
"My heart is shattered this day. Truly shattered."
Tazz's composure fractured.
"I had to do this, Father!" Tears streamed down his face. "You were no longer thinking of the kingdom! You were drowning in guilt over the war four years ago! You were selfish!"
His voice trembled violently.
"You bowed yourself before the Corpse Prince to soothe your own conscience! That is not the king this nation needs! This is the Holy Kingdom of Righteous — the most powerful nation in the world! A weak king will make us a laughingstock!"
His breathing grew uneven.
"I have only one regret… that I did not heed my benefactor's advice and wait. If I had another chance—"
His eyes hardened through tears.
"I would do it again. And this time, I would win."
Despite his defiance—
He was terrified.
⸻
"Stop this!" the queen cried.
Her voice broke through the tension like glass shattering.
"It is over, my son! Please… we can resolve this misunderstanding. You are still my darling boy… my Tazz…"
She stepped forward, tears falling freely.
"Please do not speak this way. My beautiful son…"
Behind her, King Gustavious slowly took his seat upon the throne.
The tension in the room eased slightly after the queen spoke.
But the king's eyes—
They still burned.
With fury.
With sorrow.
And with the unbearable weight of judgment.