Story Title :- idle guy
Chapter 22: The War That Never Ended
The skies above Kael and Lira had never looked so clear. The storm of Varok was over, the Gate sealed behind them, and for once, the world didn’t feel like it was falling apart.
But peace is just another kind of illusion.
They traveled east, across the broken continent of Thaleon, toward the ruins of Elaren—a city that once rivaled the old capitals of magic before the War of Sundering. Kael had heard rumors that something had awakened beneath its bones… something old. Not like Varok. Older.
On the third night of their journey, Kael dreamed.
The Dream of Fire and Chains
He stood on a battlefield again, but this one was still. Corpses of men and machines littered the plains, fused with arcane circuitry and ancient sigils. The scent of oil and blood filled the air.
In the center of the field, bound by chains of starlight, was a being too large to comprehend—its body part metal, part flesh, part molten essence. Its face was a blank mask, yet Kael could feel its rage, its sadness… and its memory.
“You released me,” it said.
“I didn’t,” Kael replied.
“Not yet,” it whispered.
Lightning struck—and Kael woke.
The Black Banner
Elaren was no longer empty.
When they reached the city’s perimeter, Kael and Lira crouched atop a crumbled aqueduct and stared at the impossible—marching columns of armored soldiers, banners black as void, and machines of war fueled by a strange fusion of magic and tech.
The Black Banner had returned.
They were a myth—ghosts from the Second Aeon, said to have vanished after losing the war against the Old Gods. Their leader, General Nyros, was known for using forgotten technology to bind ancient spirits into weapons.
“What are they doing here?” Lira whispered.
Kael’s eyes narrowed. “Worse question: what woke them?”
They slipped into the city under shadow, navigating between rotting towers and mechanical ruins. All around them were signs of excavation—dig sites with broken golems, glowing relics suspended in air, and containment fields humming with energy.
In the central plaza, Kael saw it.
The chained being from his dream.
Buried in the ground, only its upper body exposed. Its mask stared upward, motionless.
Lira gasped. “That thing… it’s not from this world.”
“No,” Kael said. “But it remembers it.”
Nyros, the Unbroken
As if summoned by Kael’s thoughts, a horn echoed across the city—and from the central tower came the sound of boots and command.
Nyros stepped into the plaza.
Clad in black armor adorned with arcane sigils, his face was hidden behind a helm carved with old runes. At his side was a blade that pulsed with imprisoned souls—each one screaming softly through the metal.
He placed a hand on the chained being’s head.
“It’s nearly time,” he said to his soldiers. “The sleeper will rise, and with it… so will the truth of our gods.”
Kael felt the Riftheart burn in his chest.
This wasn’t just about Varok anymore.
This was a war older than magic itself.
Strike and Silence
That night, Kael and Lira made their move.
They infiltrated the tower under the cover of a false storm, conjured by Lira’s glyphwork. Every step deeper revealed horrors—rooms filled with experimental magic, test chambers housing children fused with spirits, weapons made from harvested dreams.
“This isn’t war,” Lira said. “This is desecration.”
Kael found a control chamber. One of the terminals, still glowing, pulsed with an old interface—something pre-Sundering.
He placed his hand on it.
A voice spoke: “Authorization: Kael—recognized. Initiating breach protocol.”
He stepped back in shock.
Lira grabbed his arm. “What the hell was that?”
“I think… I think I was meant to find this.”
Sirens began to blare. The sleeper’s bindings started to glow.
And across the city, Nyros turned his head.
“They’ve arrived,” he said, calmly. “The Riftbearer lives.”
Reckoning Begins Again
Kael and Lira burst from the tower as the sleeper began to stir. The earth cracked. Energy surged. The soldiers of the Black Banner rallied.
Kael summoned the Riftblade once more, but something was wrong.
The blade flickered. Wavered.
“I can’t stabilize it,” he said, jaw tight. “Something’s interfering.”
Lira grabbed a fallen soldier’s staff and flung a wave of flame toward an advancing mech-unit. “Then we fight old school!”
The plaza became a battlefield. Magic clashed with science. Spirits screamed from broken containment fields, joining the fray. The sleeper raised one massive hand, and the sky itself shook.
Kael fought his way toward Nyros, blade to blade. Their clash echoed across the plaza like thunder made steel.
“You think you’re saving the world,” Nyros hissed. “But you’re only delaying the truth.”
“I’ve seen your truth,” Kael growled. “And I’m not letting it out.”
“You already did,” Nyros smiled. “When you destroyed Varok, you broke the balance. Now the forgotten ones return.”
Kael faltered.
And in that moment, the sleeper opened its eyes.
End of Chapter 22
