THE LAST KEEPER

Colossal Zaira slithered swiftly down the rocky slopes toward the grassy clearing behind Galka War Academy, where rows of white medical pavilions stood beside the pine trees.

Senior healers in green robes hurried out with a canvas stretcher as the titan serpent lowered her massive head to the ground.

Sagiri stepped down from Zaira’s scales, gently carrying Lira in his arms before placing her onto the padded stretcher.

”Her internal bleeding has stopped, but she needs rest and pure medicine,” Sagiri said, looking at the head physician.

”She will be safe with us, Keeper,” the old healer replied with a deep bow. ”We will guard her day and night.”

Sagiri reached out and lightly pressed Lira’s hand. ”Rest now, Lira. I will finish this war.”

He turned on his heel, climbed back onto Zaira’s broad neck, and gripped the crest of her armored scales.

”South, Zaira,” Sagiri said. ”Full speed.”

The colossal serpent let out a deep, rolling hiss and surged forward, her massive body carving deep ruts through the rocky hills like an avalanche.

Sagiri looked back over his shoulder toward the northeast horizon, where dark plumes of smoke rose over the Kovura Pass.

He knew Squad 25, Kiana, and N’varu’s Sandshades were already riding hard into that smoke to hold Chief Zaka’s exposed flank.

They were brave, but sixty thousand Soulless shock troops would crush them if the southern army did not move quickly.

By late afternoon, the rocky hills flattened out into the vast, sun-baked plains of the frontier border.

Ahead of them, stretching across the red dirt like an endless golden city of canvas, lay the massive war encampment of the South.

Forty thousand southern warriors occupied the plain, their iron-tipped spears planted in the ground like an endless forest of bronze and steel.

Deep trenches and wooden barricades lined the border, guarded by desert scouts and archers in sand-colored tunics.

As the earth began to rumble beneath Zaira’s rapid approach, lookouts on the wooden watchtowers spotted the colossal beast surging over the dunes.

HOOOOON.

A deep bronze war horn sounded across the plain, followed by a dozen more until the entire camp vibrated with the heavy call.

”The Keeper!” voices shouted from the trenches. ”The Supreme Chief has returned!”

Warriors dropped their tools and weapons, rushing to the wide central muster field as the colossal serpent crested the outer barricades.

Zaira came to a halt with a heavy, grinding slide, her massive armored coils settling across the red dirt as dust swirled in the wind.

Sagiri leaped down from the serpent’s brow, his dark cloak whipping in the heat as Nokai hummed on his back.

Through the parting ranks of soldiers, General Zafaru marched onto the field in full bronze armor, his heavy scimitar strapped to his waist.

Beside him walked Elder Koru in flowing black robes, followed by twenty senior clan captains from across the desert.

The moment General Zafaru reached the edge of the clearing, he halted and dropped heavily onto his right knee.

Behind him, Elder Koru and all forty thousand southern warriors dropped to one knee in unison, slamming their fists against their breastplates.

CLANG.

The collective sound of forty thousand fists striking bronze armor echoed across the plains like a crack of thunder.

”Long live the Supreme Chief!” General Zafaru roared, his deep voice carrying over the silent ranks. ”Long live the Last Keeper!”

Sagiri raised his right hand, his crimson eyes scanning the sea of kneeling warriors. ”Rise, General. Rise, warriors of the South.”

The army stood back up with a synchronized rustle of weapons and armor, their eyes fixed on their young leader.

General Zafaru stepped closer, his weathered face tight with concern. ”We saw the sky-dome broadcast from Alika City, Supreme Chief. We know the coup failed.”

”The Mandra has secured the capital,” Sagiri said, walking toward the command tent. ”And Grand Marshal Senraki has exposed his father’s treason.”

Elder Koru walked alongside them, his brow furrowed with suspicion. ”Where are the Sandshades who rode north with you?”

”They are fighting at the Kovura Pass,” Sagiri answered, entering the grand war pavilion and stopping before the central map table.

”Sixty thousand frost-plated Soulless from Glacial Lanka have crossed the northern border,” Sagiri continued. ”The town of Olaro is already burning.”

Elder Koru sneered, crossing his thin arms. ”Then let the North burn with it. What does that have to do with us?”

”Sixteen years ago, the northern clans marched south and slaughtered the N’folu,” Koru said, his voice bitter with ancient rage. ”Now fate is making them pay. Why should our sons bleed for them?”

General Zafaru looked down at the border map, his jaw set in a hard line. ”Elder Koru speaks the mind of the army, Supreme Chief. My orders were to guard our border.”

”We will defend the desert with our lives, but we will not march into northern snow to save northern chiefs,” Zafaru added.

Sagiri did not raise his voice, but the air inside the pavilion grew instantly cold.

He reached behind his back, pulled a heavy leather satchel from his belt, and threw it onto the table.

CLATTER.

Heavy iron armor plates etched with glowing frost runes spilled across the map, alongside dark alchemical scrolls and frozen needles.

”Look at this,” Sagiri commanded, his voice razor-sharp.

General Zafaru leaned forward, picking up an iron gauntlet with mechanical joints and a pulsing core. ”What kind of weapon is this?”

”This is not a simple clan war, General,” Sagiri said, staring into Zafaru’s eyes. ”The rogue General Senraki has made a blood pact with King Vanka of Glacial Lanka.”

”Together, they have built an army of sixty thousand Soulless in subterranean bio-facilities,” Sagiri explained. ”King Vanka does not care about borders or ancient grudges.”

”He sees every living human on this continent as raw material to feed his flesh-forges,” Sagiri said, pointing north. ”If Chief Zaka and the northern clans fall, those sixty thousand monsters will not stop at the mountains.”

”They will sweep across the central plains and march straight into our desert,” Sagiri continued. ”They do not tire, they do not feel pain, and they do not show mercy.”

”If we hide behind our trenches, every man, woman, and child in the South will be harvested and turned into hollow shells,” Sagiri declared.

Silence gripped the pavilion as the commanders stared at the dark frost-armor on the table.

General Zafaru looked at the mechanical joints in his hand, cold sweat forming on his brow as the scale of the threat sank in.

”Squad 25 and my Sandshades are bleeding on the mountain slopes right now to buy us time,” Sagiri said, his crimson eyes flashing with authority.

”The rogue General and Sir Black murdered my clan, and I will take their heads myself,” Sagiri stated. ”My feud is with them, not with the innocent people of this land.”

”I am the Last Keeper of N’folu and the Supreme Chief of the South,” Sagiri’s voice echoed through the tent like rolling thunder. ”And I say the South marches today.”

General Zafaru felt the crushing weight of Nokai’s killing aura filling the tent, shaking his warrior soul to its core.

He looked at the iron abomination in his hand, then looked directly into Sagiri’s resolute eyes. ℴ

Without another word of doubt, General Zafaru dropped heavily onto both knees before Sagiri.

”Forgive my blindness, Supreme Chief,” Zafaru said, bowing his head with deep humility. ”The Kai of the South obeys your command. Forty thousand spears will march into hell at your side.”

Elder Koru swallowed hard, trembling under Sagiri’s fierce gaze before falling to his knees beside the general.

”The council will not oppose the Keeper’s will,” Koru whispered.

”Sound the war horns,” Sagiri commanded, his voice ringing with absolute clarity. ”Break camp and march the Southern Host across the border into Tagayia.”

”Advance along the main highway to relieve Squad 25 and join forces with Chief Zaka’s northern warriors,” Sagiri ordered.

”And what of you, Supreme Chief?” General Zafaru asked, rising to his feet.

”I have duties in the South before I join you on the front,” Sagiri answered, his gaze turning toward the open dunes. ”I must lay Rika to rest in the sands of N’folu, and ensure Thazir stands secure behind our lines.”

”And then?” Zafaru asked.

”Then I will stabilize this power and join you on the frontlines,” Sagiri said, feeling the faint, burning ache of relic blowback deep within his chest. ”We will crush Glacial Lanka together. Move out!”

HOOOOON!

Across the vast frontier plain, forty thousand southern warriors raised their spears with a thunderous roar as the grand march began.