Windflame Valley, a winding, treacherous gorge, lay at the edge of the Northern Frontier's heartland.
Towering cliffs rose on either side, like a gateway between heaven and earth.
Watchtowers lined the cliffs. Stone launching platforms and magic-burst batteries were already in position, and the Third Legion's banners snapped in the morning wind.
Dawn had just broken, but the thick fog had yet to lift. White frost still clung to the rock faces, and pale moisture shrouded the entire gorge in an uncanny silence...
Like the deathly stillness before a storm.
Suddenly-boom! Boom! Boom!
Heavy, drumlike sounds came from afar, deep and muffled, as though some enormous creature were marching in the distance. Yet they were regular, rhythmic, like roars rising from underground.
These were the drums of the Northern Barbarian Army, reverberating through the valley at dawn. With every beat, the soldiers' hearts jolted.
Then the ground began to tremble, and herds of heavily armored Magical Beasts emerged from the fog.
They were enormous, resembling both cattle and bears, but dense layers of plant scales covered their bodies, with red vines entwined in every plate.
Some breathed crimson mist; others had numerous legs, like fortresses crawling over the ground. As they ran, the earth itself seemed to groan.
They did not howl. There was only the thunder of hooves and claws pounding the ground, like ranks of living battering rams advancing without a sound.
Behind them, the northern barbarian Knights appeared.
They rode not warhorses, but mutated mounts.
Tusked lizard-horses, armored Tundra Wolves, and even half-plant, half-beast Fusion Abominations-every rider surged forward amid fury and strange phenomena.
The Knights wore rough battle armor, Flower Crown marks appearing on their shoulders and helmets. Battle Aura flickered in their eyes, while the radiance of emotional contagion flowed over their bodies.
They growled