In a realm from a different world, there existed kingdoms of kings, lands of kings, and tombs of kings. Each kingdom held its own ambitions, hopes, and ideals. Yet, they all shared a singular vision—to unite the world of Artharia—and a mission—to conquer the lands of other kings. They called themselves the "Lordan," a title for every king. This was a world of swordsmanship, archery, magic, and many other abilities. Every king across the lands of Artharia was blessed by a specific god with unique powers to fulfill their ambitions, desires, and visions. It wasn't merely a battle of kings, but a war involving kings, their people, and the gods themselves.
In the year 220 AD, Artharia was divided into 16 territories, ruled by only 15 kings. One king was still awaited, long missing and forgotten. His land left behind, temporarily governed by the head knight, Warth. This land was reduced to a single settlement. A tale of heroism in the era of kings and gods, in a realm filled with myths, wars, hatred, ambition, hope, and loyalty.
"Lordan Flavesh is dead. I am tasked with replacing him until a new king is chosen by the god Ares," declared Warth from the royal podium during his inauguration as interim ruler. Once the chief knight of the kingdom of Flavium, Warth now stood as its sole leader. Lordan Flavesh had been declared dead after vanishing in the battle defending the capital, Fiusina, from Lordan Throria of the kingdom Trohipmus. "We will defend the last territory of Flavium until a new Lordan is chosen or until god Ares shows us the way," he continued, his scarred face marked by past battles, his tall frame steady, white skin and black hair prominent under the dim light, as he addressed the remaining people and soldiers of Flavium. "Follow and obey me, or we will all perish. For our High Lord."
The speech ended, and Warth, along with the remaining knights, formed a new force to defend Dakfis, the last stronghold of Flavium—a small castle with thin stone walls, a thick ceramic gate, limited weaponry, and towers at each corner, tall but weak, manned by amateur mages. Their army numbered only 5,000, facing Lordan Throria's 20,000-strong blockade: cavalry, infantry, archers, catapults, seasoned mages, and warriors. Overwhelmed by such disparity and the crushing news that Fiusina had been utterly destroyed, its people slaughtered, fear gripped Dakfis. No one knew when Lordan Throria would strike next. Only Warth's experience as chief knight gave any hope.
That night, thunder roared—a storm loomed, blood would soon mix with rain."ATTACK! They're weak! Their Lordan is dead!" roared Lordan Throria, as the heavens opened. The horn of doom sounded; his siege of Flavium's last territory had begun. Flaming arrows lit the sky, knights fell, and mages chanted protective spells. Trohipmus's signature orange magic enveloped their soldiers, granting them a shield against first strikes—giving them, in effect, two lives.
As the battle commenced, Warth commanded, "All soldiers, carry two swords! Defend the north and east sides. They'll only attack from those directions. Fight or die!" His fear barely veiled, but his knowledge of their tactics was solid—he'd fought at Fiusina. He ordered, "The twelve knights, lead each battalion and follow my orders!""Yes, sir!""We hold until they retreat, or until death takes us!" Warth's words rallied them."Mages, shield us from their fire arrows! Archers, poison your arrows and bring them death!"
Poison-tipped arrows rained down, taking enemy lives even through their orange shields. Flavium's deadly magic and sword skills proved a worthy match for Trohipmus's strength.
But then came the catapults. Massive stones shattered Dakfis's walls. The gate crumbled, the northern defenses fell. Warth's prediction was right—they only attacked from north and east. He sent eight knights and their troops north, reinforcing two already struggling there. Throria had split his 20,000 troops into two forces of 10,000.
"You eight, to the north! Hold the line! Their Lordan's in the south, so don't worry—you face only their double-lifed soldiers and knights!""What about you, sir?" asked Gaittle, a young knight."Don't worry about me. MOVE!""Yes, sir!"
The fight raged. The south wavered—blood pooled under the broken gate. The north, too, lost many."Don't die, Xertin!" Gaittle cried as his friend was struck."Forgive me… protect Flavium…" Xertin whispered as life left him. Fueled by rage, Gaittle's acceleration magic turned him into a blur, slaying enemies, his blade slicing through a rival knight's heart and severing his head.
Meanwhile, Warth's sword mastery held the south—his tall, broad frame cleaving enemies as if they had no second life. Then he saw him—beyond the gate, a man clad in yellow armor, sword and shield shimmering as if made of gold, atop a black steed. Six knights flanked him, their white horses marked them as elite. Warth recognized him at once—Lordan Throria.
"I will avenge you, Lord Flavesh. I will kill him with my own hands," Warth swore.
"Push them back through the gate! Mages, cast death spells outside!"Throria's forces stumbled, driven out. Flavium's death magic—black light pierced through, killing many. Throria and his chosen were immune, protected by Hades's gift.
Then came Throria's ultimate weapon."What is that yellow light in the sky? It's absorbing our magic!"A glowing boulder, larger than any cyclops or giant, appeared."Don't panic! It's slow—slower than any giant!" Warth shouted.Throria's gift from Hades—a giant creature of light, "Ro."
"Ro, destroy their castle!"Ro advanced, smashing defenders in a single blow. Flavium's troops retreated inside."What should we do, sir?" asked Gaittle."How many are left?""About a thousand, sir. One-eighth are mages. Ten knights remain. Xertin is dead. Lothar is missing.""Then we make our last stand. They outnumber us, and with that stone beast, we can't break out.""Our mission is to protect the civilians!""You mean… surrender?"Shock spread.
Then, a figure appeared—a cloaked man."You give up so easily? Don't shame Lord Flavesh and doom Flavium.""Who are you?" Warth demanded.The man lowered his hood."Your Highness, Flavesh… but how?" Warth dropped to one knee."I am your Lordan. Obey me!" Flavesh's eyes burned with a sharp grin.
No one questioned him. A young man, sharp-eyed, black-haired, pale, barely in his twenties—Flavesh, the youngest Lordan in history.
"There's no time for stories. Follow my orders, and we'll drive them back.""Yes, my Lord!""Mages, with me! Knights under Warth, open the gate. Attack—but don't touch the giants!"
The troops prepared, confused as the gate no longer trembled."Open the gate, attack them all—including Ro—but not the giants!""I'll show you the power of a forgotten Lordan!"
The gate opened—outside, Lordan Throria's troops were under siege—not from Flavium, but from 5,000 giants. Chaos reigned."What is this?! Ro, protect me!" Throria called, pulling Ro back.
Flavesh's forces charged, slaughtering the scattered enemy."Warth, look there! Behind the giants—Lothar?""Yes, it's him… alive, with the giants?"
The tide turned. Throria's army dwindled—six knights and the Lordan remained."Your Highness, flee! Regroup at Fiusina!" his knights begged.
But before Throria could move, Flavesh appeared on a red-black horse, alone. With a mere touch, he killed all six knights—his special power, death by touch.
"You dare, Flavesh? I thought you died at Fiusina!""Ah, Throria… you forgot. I am Flavesh, the Grim Reaper. And I've returned—to kill you."
"Ro, kill this monster!""Re Il carnforte!" Flavesh chanted.
A dark light consumed Ro and Throria. Ro exploded."WHAT IS THIS? RO!" Throria screamed.Flavesh approached, ripped Throria's head off, and raised it.
"Look upon your lord! He is dead! Flee, or perish!"Throria's army scattered.
"We've won!" Warth and Gaittle shouted.
Flavesh stood atop a giant, smiling, tossing the head to the ground.