Kapitel 116: Red Moon
Dawn broke with a sky brushed pale gold, as if the world held its breath. Along a broad plain studded with scattered trees and rocky outcrops, the Ember Circle and Golden Serpent Sect took positions. No more feints, no more subtle plays—this was to be a final reckoning. Both sides understood that decisions made here would shape futures beyond their own borders.
The Ember Circle stood in disciplined ranks. Captains Eydon, Senna, and Huron led their units forward. Eydon's Flames gleamed in measured rows, Senna's Wings perched lightly among low branches and tall grasses, and Huron's Shields locked their formation at key choke points. Behind them, generals Kael, Alyra, Maron, and Ciri coordinated signals and reserves. Allies—Verdant Crane archers, Sunlit Fox scouts, monks offering calm guidance—settled into supportive roles.
Opposite, the Serpents emerged from morning mists. Kazreth, Osereth, and Ravessa, the three Elders, stood atop a low rise with Threnix at their side. Before them spread their generals: Malzaryn and Ivrineh and Yashever, each flanked by their own captains. Rivek and Surien and Vesarl arrayed their squads, wicked blades and subtle poisons at hand. Clan leaders Dhazul, Velsa, and Harrek positioned their warbands, hungry for blood or at least a decisive outcome.
Between these armies stretched a tense silence. The Ember Circle had called for clear matchups. The Serpents preferred layered deception. Yet now, faced in open ground, neither side could deny the other's presence. Lyrus stepped forward from the Ember lines, his posture calm, eyes unwavering. He carried no banner, yet all who followed him recognized the quiet authority that had shaped their unity.
Kazreth's jade mask caught a slant of sunlight as he inclined his head. The elder knew Lyrus would seek him out—Elder against leader, cunning against moral resolve. Malzaryn eyed Maron's steady lines, remembering their promise of general-versus-general clashes. Ivrineh scanned the periphery, guessing Senna's scouts lurked where she could test infiltration skills. Yashever's lips curled at the thought of tangling with Alyra's keen-eyed forces.
As the wind shifted, Lyrus raised a hand. Across the field, captains and clan leaders nodded, each knowing their foe: Captain against Captain, Clan Leader against Clan Leader, General against General, Elder against Lyrus himself. Swords and spears rose, bows were drawn, hearts steadied.
No more delays. The final battle began with a single, echoing cry, and both armies surged forward, fate colliding under a rising sun.
Wöchentlicher Energiestatus
-- Power-
Rangliste 
-- Power-
Stein