THE GENERAL'S DISGRACED HEIR

[THE PAST]n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om

The heavens wept dark flames, each fiery drop crashing into the earth with violent bursts, shattering stone and flesh alike. The battlefield roared with chaos as soldiers screamed, their voices swallowed by the cacophony of war. Among them, Sir Fredric rode valiantly at the forefront, his horse galloping through the choking smoke. Behind him, his men clung to their swords and spears with trembling hands, their faces pale yet determined.

"Follow me, men! Take justice upon these vile witches who plague our land!" Sir Fredric bellowed, his voice a rallying cry cutting through the infernal din. His blade gleamed faintly, a beacon of defiance against the shadows encroaching upon the Southwestern part of the empire.

Before them, the Witch Alliance stood—a dark and twisted legion of sorcery and malice. Their chants filled the air, casting hexes that crippled Fredric's men. Fireballs streaked across the skies, smashing into the ranks, scattering soldiers like leaves in a tempest. Still, Fredric pressed on, screaming over the carnage, "If we are to die, then let it be with their blood on our blades!"

The Southwestern region had long been vulnerable. The Lord of Lysora County, drunk on greed, had siphoned the region's resources, leaving it defenseless. The Witch Alliance had seized this opportunity to strike, their aim clear: take control of the ports and trading routes, collapsing the empire's vital lifelines. Now, with reinforcements nowhere in sight, the empire's remnants faced annihilation.

Sir Fredric's horse reared as a dark flaming sphere hurtled from above, striking his ranks with an earth-shaking explosion. Men screamed as they were thrown into the air, their bodies flung like ragdolls. Smoke and ash choked the air, and the battlefield was painted with despair.

Fredric was thrown from his mount, rolling across the charred ground. Pain shot through his body as he came to a stop. Dazed, he forced his eyes open, his vision swimming with the nightmarish scene before him. His men lay scattered, lifeless or writhing in agony. The witches advanced, their dark magic consuming everything in its path.

Despair clawed at Fredric's chest. Is this how it ends? he thought bitterly. No hope. No reinforcements. Nothing but death.

But then, a flicker of light pierced the smoke.

It wasn't the cold, lifeless flame of the witches. This fire was different. It was golden and vibrant, radiant with the warmth of the sun. The flames streaked down from the heavens, descending with an unmatched brilliance, illuminating the battlefield as though the dawn itself had broken through the darkness.

Fredric stared in awe as the light crashed down between his men and the witches. The ground trembled, but this time, there was no despair, it was something else.

Through the shimmering flames, a figure emerged. A woman stood amidst the inferno, her armour glowing with radiant light. Her crimson hair billowed like a banner of defiance, and her presence exuded an unearthly power.

Fredric's lips trembled as the woman raised her hand, flames swirling around her like living entities. Her voice rang out, strong and commanding, carrying across the battlefield:

"[Heaven's Suns!]"

The last thing Fredric saw before succumbing to unconsciousness was the witches recoiling in terror, their dark magic faltering against the radiant might of the sunlit warrior.

The ominous dark clouds above crackled and roared as a spark ignited, growing rapidly into a fiery inferno. One spark became two, then four, and soon the sky erupted into a dozen blazing suns, each radiating heat and fury. The battlefield was bathed in their molten glow, their fiery orbs illuminating the carnage below and casting stark shadows of both the soldiers and the witches.

Among the Witch Alliance, their head general, a fierce woman adorned in intricate robes of dark energy, glared at the fiery spectacle with narrowed eyes. Her ravien hair, streaked with silver, caught the flickering light of the blazing suns as she clenched her fists. Turning to her sister, a pale and trembling figure clutching an ancient staff, she barked with urgency, "Sisters! Gather all your mana and form a barrier. Quickly! We must hold against this!"

The younger witches hesitated, their eyes flickering between the fiery infernos and their sister. "That energy… It's not mortal," one whispered, her voice trembling with disbelief.

"Now!" the general roared, her voice slicing through the chaos.

The sisters snapped out of their fear and thrust their staff into the ground. A surge of power coursed through therm as they chanted in an arcane tongue, the words twisting the air around them. Mana coalesced in shimmering waves, forming a translucent dome above the witches, a glimmering shield of their combined power.

Across the battlefield, the sunlit warrior stood unwavering, her fiery aura dancing around her form. Her crimson hair flowed like a river of molten lava, and her radiant armor glowed brighter as she raised her hand high. Without a word, she dropped it in a decisive motion.

One of the fiery suns above responded instantly, plummeting toward the ground with an ear-shattering roar. The blazing orb collided with the shimmering barrier, a clash of titanic forces. The witches' dome trembled and warped under the weight of the celestial fire. Cracks splintered across its surface like a spider's web as heat and light surged through, the barrier straining against the overwhelming power.

"No! It can't be—" the general sister's voice faltered as the barrier gave way. The fiery sun burned through, descending upon them with unrelenting fury. Her eyes widened in disbelief, her mind racing with questions. Who is this being? What kind of force has been unleashed upon us?

The world around her vanished in a blinding light, the searing brilliance consuming everything in its path. Then came the fire. It roared with a vengeance, devouring the air itself, incinerating all it touched.

The shockwave followed, a deafening explosion that rippled outward, tearing through the battlefield and sending soldiers, witches, and debris flying. The ground quaked under its might, the very air vibrating with the intensity of the blast.

But just as the inferno threatened to consume everything, the fire abruptly recoiled. Streams of flames shot upward, drawn back toward the sunlit warrior like rivers returning to their source. She stood amidst the chaos, untouched, her hand raised as she absorbed the raging fire into her radiant form.

Her gaze swept across the battlefield, her eyes glowing with an intense light as she whispered words that carried across the scorched earth, their meaning clear even to those who could not hear them: "This land will no longer suffer your blight."

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A/N: Hey everyone! I'm back from my holiday and I hope you all had a fantastic time celebrating the festivities.