Rowan Mercer's gaze drifted across the assembled human ranks.
Something stood out.
Among the armored soldiers and banner-bearing companies was a smaller formation—figures barely reaching a man's chest, lightly equipped, moving with quiet discipline.
"Who are they?" Rowan asked.
Bregolas, the first king of mankind, stepped forward.
"Halflings," he said. "They migrated from the east not long ago. They aren't strong, and they're small, but their senses are exceptional. Sharp eyes. Keen hearing. They move fast and leave almost no trace. Natural scouts."
Rowan nodded slowly.
"So they're already here…"
The future storytellers of Middle-earth.
The ones history would one day quietly orbit around.
Rowan turned toward the distant black mountain.
Angband.
He raised his voice, amplifying it across the plains.
"Morgoth! Come out and face me yourself. Or are you too afraid to leave your hole?"
His words rolled like thunder.
The intent was simple.
If Morgoth could be drawn out of his fortress, the battle would become far easier.
Angband was not merely a stronghold.
It was saturated with Morgoth's power.
Every wall, tunnel, and stone amplified him.
Every invading force would suffer constant suppression.
Rowan waited.
Then a voice answered from within the mountain.
Cold.
Measured.
"Bold words, little mortal. If you have the courage, enter my domain and prove them."
Rowan exhaled.
"So be it."
He had not expected taunts alone to work.
Morgoth was not a mindless brute.
He was a master manipulator who had deceived gods and corrupted ages.
Still, the attempt had cost nothing.
Deep beneath Angband, Morgoth extended his will outward, scanning the battlefield.
Elves.
Men.
Dwarves.
A formidable alliance.
Yet none of that truly frightened him.
Even Rowan, whose power was undeniably immense, did not inspire true fear.
Not while Morgoth remained inside Angband.
The only thing he searched for was divine presence.
The Valar.
If they had come, he would flee.
Immediately.
A second imprisonment would likely be eternal.
But the battlefield was clean.
No divine authority.
No godly resonance.
Only mortals.
A slow smile formed on Morgoth's unseen face.
"Good. If they dare enter, I'll slaughter them all. Then I'll reshape their corpses into orcs and march across the continent."
This was everything.
The greatest leaders of all three races were present.
A single decisive victory would end resistance forever.
Morgoth let his voice echo outward again.
"Did you really think killing a few of my servants meant anything? Wait long enough and I will erase your cities, your bloodlines, and every trace of your existence. I have eternity."
The allied kings bristled.
Weapons shifted.
Shouts rose.
Rowan lifted one hand.
"He'll come out," Rowan said calmly. "Just not the way he planned."
Since provocation failed, force would replace it.
Rowan's body surged with power.
Scales rippled across his skin.
Wings unfurled.
In a heartbeat, a colossal black dragon stood where Rowan had been.
Larger than any dragon Morgoth had ever bred.
Denser.
Heavier.
More real.
"Poison fog is meaningless."
The dragon opened its jaws.
A tidal wave of fire erupted.
Not ordinary flame.
It was an amalgamation of countless infernos Rowan had mastered across worlds.
Dragonfire.
Soul-burning flame.
Primordial hellfire.
Star-born heat.
The skies above Angband became a roaring furnace.
The poisonous clouds evaporated instantly.
The fortress was bathed in searing light.
Orcs caught in the open didn't even have time to scream.
Their bodies and souls were erased together.
Deep below, Morgoth shot to his feet.
"What is this fire…?"
Even balrogs and dragonflame paled in comparison.
This blaze felt alien.
As though it did not belong to this world's rules.
"Do you think fire alone can destroy Angband?"
Morgoth unleashed his power.
Endless darkness surged outward, coating the fortress in layered shadow, pushing back the flames.
He knew how to fight fire.
Angband had been forged within infernos long before.
Rowan did not stop.
He descended.
Massive claws slammed into the mountain peak.
While fire continued to pour from his jaws, a second force awakened within him.
Pure annihilation.
Energy-devouring power.
Rowan began to consume the darkness itself.
Morgoth's shadow was vast.
Ancient.
Overwhelming.
But it was still energy.
And energy could be eaten.
The black tide thinned.
Slowly.
Relentlessly.
Angband began to scream.