(Few hours before Lyle’s return to the Capital)

The morning sun hung high, casting elongated shadows across the barren landscape as Captain Zylar led his contingent of fifteen Maelyss soldiers toward the Redhills Barracks. The sky above was a sickly yellow, the kind that warned of impending doom, as if the world itself held its breath. The air was heavy with the scent of scorched earth and something far more sinister—blood.

In the distance, faint cries for help reached their ears, a discordant melody that grew louder with each step. Zylar’s instincts prickled with unease, a gnawing fear that something was dreadfully wrong. The Maelyss, warriors, exchanged wary glances, their hands instinctively reaching for the hilts of their weapons. Euna energy hazed within their swords, the vibrant force pulsing like a second heartbeat, a source of power and protection against the monstrous threats that plagued their world.

Zylar’s voice cut through the tension. “Stay sharp. Something’s not right.”

They approached the barracks, the source of the desperate signals, and what they saw turned their blood to ice. The gates were wide open, torn from their hinges as if by a tremendous force. Inside, the courtyard was a scene of unholy carnage. The bodies of soldiers and civilians lay strewn across the ground, torn apart as if they had been nothing more than cattle to be slaughtered. Blood pooled in the dirt, the metallic scent overpowering, mingling with the acrid stench of fear.

The Haltuers, creatures of nightmare, prowled among the corpses. They were the size of men, their skin black and wrinkled, some were skinny, some taut over sinewy muscles. Some were covered in patches of fur, others bore long claws that glinted in the fading light, and all had sharp, jagged teeth that gleamed as they feasted on the dead. The creatures devoured everything in their path with a feral hunger, sometimes not even finishing their grisly meals before moving on to the next victim.

Zylar’s eyes narrowed, his mind racing. These Haltuers were unlike anything he’d ever encountered. Daylight had always been their ally, a time of safety when the creatures retreated into the shadows. But now, with the sun still hanging in the sky, the Haltuers roamed free, their bloodlust unchecked.

One of Zylar’s soldiers let out a strangled gasp. “Gods… they’re eating them alive.”

“Draw your swords!” Zylar commanded, his voice cutting through the growing panic. “Daggers won’t do us any good here. These things need to be put down, hard and fast.”

The Maelyss soldiers obeyed without hesitation, drawing their swords from the briefcases strapped to their backs. The blades schwing with Euna energy, a soft glow emanating from the metal as the warriors prepared for battle. Zylar’s own sword radiates in his hand, a familiar weight that brought him a grim sense of comfort. He had fought countless battles with this blade, but something told him this would be unlike any fight before.

“Stay together!” Zylar barked, his voice steady despite the chaos. “We fight as one, or we die alone.”

With a battle cry, Zylar led his men into the fray. The first Haltuer they encountered lunged at them, its claws outstretched, teeth bared in a feral snarl. Zylar met it head-on, his sword slicing through the creature’s midsection with a burst of Euna energy. The Haltuer let out a shriek as it was cleaved in two, its body crumpling to the ground in a heap of blackened flesh.

But there were more—so many more. The courtyard erupted into a frenzy of violence, the Maelyss soldiers battling the Haltuers with all the ferocity they could muster. Blades flashed in the sunlight, cutting through the writhing mass of creatures with precision and deadly force. The air was thick with the sounds of battle—the clash of steel, the guttural snarls of the Haltuers, and the desperate cries of the dying.

Despite their prowess, the Maelyss were being overwhelmed. The Haltuers fought with a savage tenacity, their numbers seemingly endless. One soldier was dragged down by a pair of Haltuers, their claws ripping through his armor as they tore him apart. Another Maelyss warrior was surrounded, his sword flashing as he fought to keep the creatures at bay, but it was no use. The Haltuers swarmed over him, their teeth sinking into his flesh as he was consumed alive.

Zylar fought with a cold fury, his sword cutting down one Haltuer after another, but even he could see the futility of their situation. They were outnumbered, outmatched by these creatures that should not even exist in the light of day. As he hacked through another Haltuer, his mind raced with questions. How had this happened? Why were the Haltuers attacking in daylight? What had triggered this unprecedented event?

Through the chaos, Zylar spotted Counselor Vardek, his face pale and drawn as he fended off a Haltuer with a broken sword. The counselor’s clothes were soaked in blood, his eyes wide with terror. Zylar pushed through the fray, slicing down another Haltuer as he reached Vardek.

“Vardek!” Zylar shouted, grabbing the counselor by the shoulder. “What the hell happened here?”

Vardek turned to him, his expression one of utter despair. “They… they just appeared, Captain. Out of nowhere. We thought…  but they… they came. Berserk. Hungry. We didn’t stand a chance. The captains… the lieutenants… they’re all dead. We tried… we tried to fight, but…” His voice broke, and he gestured helplessly to the carnage around them.

Zylar’s mind raced, the reality of their situation settling in with cold clarity. This was no ordinary Haltuer attack—this was something far more dangerous. There was no time to lose. The kingdom needed to know what had happened here, and they needed to know now.

“Lyle!” Zylar called out, spotting the young soldier who had been fighting valiantly nearby. “Get to the capital! Tell them what happened here. Tell them the Haltuers are attacking during daylight. The kingdom needs to be ready.”

Lyle hesitated, his face pale with fear. “But… Captain… what about you? What about the others?”

“There’s no time, Lyle!” Zylar snapped, his voice leaving no room for argument. “We’ll hold them off as long as we can, but you need to go. Now! Run!”

Lyle nodded, fear and determination warring in his eyes. He turned and sprinted towards the gates, his heart pounding in his chest as he left the horrors of the barracks behind.

Zylar watched him go, a grim resolve settling over him. The Haltuers were growing bolder. But Zylar and his men would fight. They would fight until the last breath, because that was the Maelyss way.

For the first time in history, the Haltuers had attacked during daylight. And with that terrifying revelation, Zylar knew that nothing would ever be the same again.