The earth trembled beneath the relentless march of the Greek army as they surged toward the walls of Lyrnessus. The sound of countless footsteps grew louder, shaking the very foundations of the city. Despite the defenses that lay before them—imposing walls, fortified gates, and the perfect vantage for archers—they pressed forward without hesitation.
Faces twisted with madness, they rushed across the open field, a perfect target for the awaiting defenders. Yet, there was no fear, no hesitation. All that filled their hearts was a thirst for glory and the promise of rewards.
Mynes, standing tall atop the battlements, surveyed the scene with grim determination. His eyes moved over the approaching horde—faces twisted into smirks, wild eyes filled with the lust for battle. He raised his hand high, the signal that his archers had been waiting for.
“Archers!” he bellowed, his voice commanding and clear.
The archers stationed along the walls moved with precision. They readied their bows, strings pulled taut, arrows poised to strike. The tension was maximum as they aimed high, their arrows glinting like dark feathers against the pale sky. Every man awaited the prince’s next move, their breath held in unison.
Mynes watched the Greeks for a moment longer, feeling the weight of the impending clash. Then, with a swift motion, he brought his hand down. “Release!”
In perfect synchronization, a storm of arrows shot into the air, darkening the sky like a black cloud of death. The arrows soared high, momentarily blotting out the sun before descending in a deadly arc toward the charging Greeks below.
“Shields!” Patroclus’s voice rang out over the battlefield, sharp and steady.
The Myrmidons, Achilles’ elite soldiers, moved with flawless discipline. Without a flicker of fear or hesitation, they raised their shields as one, planting their feet firmly into the ground. The arrows slammed into their shields with a cacophony of thuds, but not a single one breached their ranks. Their faces remained impassive, as though the barrage was little more than a passing nuisance.
The rest of the Greek army, however, did not fare so well. Composed of soldiers from various regions and armies, they lacked the unshakable discipline of the Myrmidons. Chaos erupted among their ranks as the rain of arrows descended upon them. Screams filled the air as many fell, arrows embedding themselves deep into skulls and throats.
Blood sprayed across the battlefield, staining the earth beneath them.
Among the few who stood their ground were the Spartans and Athenians, their formations holding firm. Their shields, though less flawless than the Myrmidons’, still managed to block many of the deadly projectiles. They pressed on, determined to break through despite the carnage surrounding them.
And then there were the Heroes of the Empire of Light.
Unlike the rest of the Greek soldiers, this elite group, numbering only a dozen, had little to fear from the arrows. Siara Parker stood at their center, her staff raised high, glowing with magical energy. She was one of the most skilled mages among them, her magic a sight to behold.
Above them, a massive dome of shimmering water floated, rippling and undulating like a protective veil. The arrows that rained down upon her and her comrades were no match for the spell. The water caught them mid-flight, slowing them to a crawl before rendering them completely harmless.
Arrows that once fell with deadly intent now floated gently within the dome, suspended like leaves drifting in a still pond. The Heroes moved forward with ease, untouched and unhindered.
Jason, fighting alongside Siara, glanced up at the dome of water shielding them. His usual cocky grin widened. “Impressive as always, Siara,” he said, his tone light despite the deadly seriousness of the battle unfolding around them still with the intention of conquering Siara who turned distant from him after Nathan’s death.
Siara, her face calm and focused, didn’t respond.
Siara stood amid the chaos of the battlefield, fully aware of why her sister, Aisha, and Courtney had chosen not to partake in this seemingly futile battle. Their objective was clear: support the Greeks to ensure Troy would eventually submit and hand over Helen. It was simple, and they knew how the Trojan War was supposed to unfold from the legends of their world.
But she, along with the others, had agreed to keep their knowledge of Earth’s history a secret. They didn’t want to risk changing the future. If the Greeks believed victory was guaranteed, they might grow complacent, and complacency could lead to devastating mistakes. Moreover, they couldn’t be entirely sure that the Trojan War in this world would end the same way it did in their myths.
This world had its own rules, its own possibilities.
Siara had chosen to fight for more personal reasons. She didn’t want to be the weak link. She wanted to protect those she loved, to ensure that no more of her friends would die in a war they could control. She knew she lagged behind the others—Courtney, Aisha, Sierra, and Gwen—all of whom were among the strongest in their class. Siara yearned to grow stronger, to stand alongside them as equals.
Mynes, watching the relentless advance of the Greeks, finally decided to unleash his full fury. His expression hardened. “Raise the fire arrows!”
The archers responded immediately, drawing their bows and summoning flames to the tips of their arrows. A sea of burning missiles streaked toward the advancing Greeks, moving faster than the previous volleys. The air crackled with the intensity of the magical flames as the arrows bore down on the soldiers below.
Siara reacted instantly. Her staff glowed with power as she summoned an even stronger shield of water. The shimmering dome expanded, catching every flaming arrow in mid-flight, extinguishing their deadly flames before they could strike.
Patroclus, sensing that even Siara’s magic wouldn’t be able to hold off their barrage forever, acted swiftly. He raised his sword high, its blade gleaming with divine light. A protective barrier of radiant energy expanded outward, shielding the Myrmidons and the other Greek soldiers from harm.
“Let’s break through them!” Patroclus shouted.
Jason, standing beside him, grinned as his sword began to glow with a brilliant golden light. The sheer amount of mana flowing through him drew the attention of both friend and foe alike. He was about to unleash something powerful.
“Seven Star Rank Magic!” Jason called out.
With a deafening roar, Jason swung his sword down, and a colossal blade of pure light materialized in the air above him. The sword was enormous, radiating such intense light that it blinded everyone on the battlefield, including those atop the walls of Lyrnessus. The very air seemed to vibrate with the power of the spell.
Mynes, squinting against the overwhelming brilliance, tried to understand what was happening. His heart sank when he saw the colossal sword of light descending toward his city’s gates.
In an instant, the magical sword smashed into the gates of Lyrnessus with an ear-splitting explosion.
BADOOOM!
The massive gates, once so sturdy and strong, crumbled under the impact. The explosion sent debris flying in all directions as the doors of Lyrnessus were completely obliterated. Rubble scattered across the battlefield, and the path into the city now lay wide open.
Mynes stared in shock, his face turning pale as the gravity of the situation sank in. The walls that had protected his people were now nothing but ruins.
“E-Everyone! With me! Get down immediately!” Mynes barked out the order, regaining his composure as best as he could.
He grabbed his sword and, without hesitation, leapt from the battlements to the ground below, determined to fight with his people in what seemed like the city’s last stand.
BADAM!
The force of the impact echoed through the streets as Mynes landed hard, only to be immediately met by a vicious attack.
“DIE!” Aiden’s voice snarled with malicious glee, his massive sword swinging down toward the prince with lethal intent.
Mynes barely managed to react in time, bringing his sword up to parry. The strength of Aiden’s strike sent shockwaves through his arms, and the force of the blow drove him back, sending him crashing into the wall of a nearby house. The structure crumbled from the impact, and dust and debris billowed into the air.
“Prince Mynes!” came the horrified cries of his soldiers as they saw their leader nearly buried in rubble.
“You Greek bastard!!” one of Mynes’ men roared, his voice filled with rage.
Without hesitation, they charged toward Aiden, their fury burning like a wildfire. But Aiden wasn’t alone. His classmates, along with the Greek army, had already breached the walls and now flooded into the city. The once orderly streets of Lyrnessus were now filled with chaos as battle erupted on every corner.
The clash of steel against steel rang out like thunder. Soldiers screamed in both rage and pain as the Greeks, driven by bloodlust and the promise of glory, fought with ruthless efficiency.
“Protect the city! Protect the prince!!” one of the soldiers shouted desperately, their voice breaking under the strain of battle.
Losing Prince Mynes would mean losing the heart and soul of Lyrnessus. Without their leader, the morale of the defenders would shatter like glass, and the city would fall entirely into the hands of the Greeks.
“We have to hold until Troy sends reinforcements!”