The Federation Citadel stood at the heart of the world—a fortress so vast its walls seemed to stretch into eternity. Massive banners, adorned with the insignia of the Titan Hunters, unfurled from the highest spires as the war drums began to thunder.
BOOM.
BOOM.
BOOM.
Across the sprawling stronghold, massive crystal loudspeakers hummed with energy, their ancient cores igniting as they prepared to carry the words that would shake the world.
At the summit of the Iron Tribunal, where only the highest-ranked warriors dared to step, the Grand Announcer stepped forward.
A man clad in black ceremonial robes, his voice magically amplified to reach every city, every fortress, every war camp in the known world.
He lifted a single scroll.
Unrolled it.
And then—
He spoke.
---
"TO ALL WHO STAND BENEATH THE SKY—HEED THESE WORDS!"
The voice boomed across the heavens.
"The Titan Hunter Federation issues an urgent global decree! Effective immediately!"
The world stopped.
Merchants in bustling trade cities froze, their hands tightening on their coin pouches.
Swordsmen in distant war camps looked up from their sparring, eyes narrowing.
Even rogue Titan Users, hidden in the depths of the wildlands, felt the weight of the words pressing down upon them.
---
"A VEILBORN HAS ESCAPED."
A single sentence.
And yet—the world seemed to exhale.
Then came the flood.
---
The newspapers hit the streets first.
Swift as wildfire, the presses roared to life in every major city, their ink-stained pages flying into the hands of trembling readers.
"VEILBORN UNBOUND – WHO CAN STOP IT?"
"THE FEDERATION DECLARES A GLOBAL EMERGENCY!"
"A NEW AGE OF CHAOS?"
Street criers ran through the markets, their voices hoarse from screaming the same words again and again.
---
"HEAR YE! HEAR YE!"
"ONE OF THE VEILBORN WALKS FREE!"
"THE OLD NIGHTMARE RETURNS!"
---
Seers and oracles fell into frenzied trances, their visions filled with darkness.
Warlords sharpened their blades, for they knew war was coming.
Kings and emperors summoned their councils, their faces pale with fear.
In the highest palaces, the most powerful figures in the world leaned forward, their fingers tightening on their thrones.
The balance of power was shifting.
And no one—not Titan Hunters, not monarchs, not rogue warriors or forgotten clans—could ignore what came next.
---
The Grand Announcer continued.
His voice now an iron hammer, striking at the very foundation of the world.
"LET IT BE KNOWN—THE FEDERATION WILL NOT STAND IDLE."
"THE HUNT BEGINS IMMEDIATELY."
"ANY WHO AID THE VEILBORN WILL BE MARKED AS ENEMIES OF HUMANITY."
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Across the continents, thousands of Titan Hunters marched toward their strongholds, preparing for war.
This was not a skirmish.
This was not a minor threat.
This was a declaration of war against something ancient, powerful, and beyond mortal comprehension.
---
The World Reacts
The moment the announcement ended, the world erupted.
In the Eastern Dominion, the Celestial Empress lowered her cup of tea, the porcelain trembling in her hand.
In the Floating Fortress of the Sky Reavers, war horns blared as ships lifted into the air.
In the darkest corners of the world, hidden figures whispered amongst themselves, their schemes now accelerating.
And somewhere—far beyond the reach of the Federation''s eyes—
A shadow moved.
A smirk formed.
And a voice, cold as death, laughed.
The game had begun.
---
And so, the world stood at the edge of a new era.
The Veilborn walked free.
The Titan Hunters prepared for war.
And from the deepest corners of history, the past began to rise once more.
A storm was coming.
And this time—no one would escape it.
---
Titan Hunter Federation – Black Spire Fortress
A storm brewed in the ashen skies above Black Spire Fortress.
Dark clouds swirled, streaked with red veins of lightning, illuminating the colossal fortress that stood as a symbol of dominion over Titans. Towering above an endless stretch of wasteland, its iron gates loomed like the maw of a waiting beast.
Inside, within the Command Chamber, the air was thick with tension.
The torches flickered, their flames bending unnaturally. A coldness settled into the bones of the officers present, their fingers twitching near their weapons.
Something was wrong.
And then—
The doors slammed open.
A squad of Titan Hunters staggered inside, their armor scorched, their weapons dulled, their expressions twisted with the weight of what they had seen.
Commander Merlin, a hardened veteran with a gaze like sharpened steel, turned from the war table. His cloak, embroidered with the insignia of a Titan slayer, swayed as he took a step forward.
His eyes narrowed. "Speak."
The leading scout, a man named Derrik, dropped to one knee, still catching his breath. His body trembled, his hands gripping at the air as if trying to seize something unseen.
Then he looked up.
And his voice came out hoarse.
"The Scorch Clan is gone."
A silence fell over the chamber.
Not the silence of a pause—
But the silence before a battlefield erupts.
Varik''s fingers twitched. "Explain."
Derrik swallowed, his throat dry.
"We arrived at dawn, but…" His voice wavered. "There was… nothing left."
The room grew colder.
"No signs of a battle, no bodies—nothing but ashes."
Another hunter stepped forward, voice laced with disbelief.
"The land itself has been turned to cinders, sir. The mountains are cracked. The rivers have boiled away. Even the Titan-markings in the ground—scorched beyond recognition."
Varik''s expression darkened. His grip tightened around the hilt of his warblade, veins bulging beneath his gauntlet.
The Scorch Clan was not weak.
They were a lineage of fire-bound warriors, Titan Users who had tempered their bodies in the volcanic forges of the Ember Range. Their existence was a testament to fire itself.
And yet—
They had been erased.
His voice came out slow. Dangerous.
"What did this?"
Derrik hesitated. He looked back at his squad. Their faces were twisted in barely contained terror, as if they had seen something that should not exist.
Then, in a whisper—
"The Titan of Fire is awake."
---
The words hit like a hammer.
For the first time in years, a ripple of fear passed through the Titan Hunters.
Someone exhaled sharply. Another stepped back, as if they could distance themselves from the reality of what they had just heard.
Varik''s fingers curled. His knuckles went white.
"…Are you certain?"
Derrik nodded. His voice was quieter now.
"The heat… it was unlike anything we''ve ever encountered. Not just fire—raw destruction."
Another hunter added, his voice barely above a whisper.
"We felt something watching us."
A pause.
"…It let us leave."
Varik''s breathing slowed. His thoughts sharpened.
If a Titan had awakened, it meant the old seals were breaking.
And if the seals were breaking—
Then the world was on the verge of a new catastrophe.
His eyes flicked toward the highest level of the fortress, where the Federation''s High Command resided.
This report would change everything.
He turned on his heel.
"Prepare the war council."
He didn''t wait for confirmation.
He didn''t need to.
As he strode toward the inner sanctum, his thoughts thundered like war drums.
A Veilborn had escaped.
A Titan of Fire had awakened.
And now—the very foundation of the world was shifting.
The age of mortals was over.
Something older, something deeper—something primordial—had begun to stir.
And no one was prepared for what came next.
---
A war horn bellowed through the fortress.
Its deep, guttural wail rolled across the iron halls, a call to arms that shook the very foundations of Black Spire. Soldiers stiffened. Officers turned toward the central tower. Messengers sprinted down the corridors, their voices urgent—
"Summon the High Command!"
"A new report—urgent!"
"A Titan has awakened!"
The fortress moved like a living machine. Chains rattled as massive iron gates were drawn open. The central lift—a platform large enough to carry a battalion—groaned as it ascended to the uppermost chamber.
There, in the heart of the fortress, the leaders of the Titan Hunter Federation convened.
A colossal war room, its walls etched with the histories of Titan slayings. Old banners, stained with the blood of past battles, hung above the circular table. The atmosphere was thick with the scent of parchment, steel, and burning incense—a reminder of the divine war they waged.
At the head of the table, seated , was Aldric Kane, a Titan slayer holding the fort for now in the federation.
A legend among Titan Hunters. A man whose presence alone could silence a battlefield. His face was carved from stone, lined with the weight of countless campaigns. The scars on his hands—deep and ancient—spoke of battles against things that should not exist.
His eyes, however, were sharper than ever.
The doors opened.
Commander Varik strode in, followed by Derrik and his scouting party. The moment they entered, all eyes in the chamber locked onto them.
"Report."
Aldric''s voice cut through the room like a blade.
Varik saluted, then stepped aside.
Derrik stepped forward, his hands clenched into fists. He took a deep breath—then spoke.
"The Titan of Fire has awakened."
Silence.
Aldric did not move. Not a single leader at the table spoke. But the very air in the room seemed to shift, as if the walls themselves were holding their breath.
Derrik continued. "The Scorch Clan has been wiped out. There were no survivors. No bodies. Just ash."
He swallowed. "And the heat..." He shook his head. "It wasn''t normal fire. It was something... ancient."
One of the high-ranking officers scoffed. "This could be the work of an enemy faction. The Ember Reavers have been—"
"No."
Varik cut him off. His voice was firm, unshakable.
"This wasn''t a human attack. It wasn''t a Core User or a nomad." He glanced around the room, meeting every gaze. "This was something else. Something beyond our understanding."
The room darkened.
Aldric leaned forward, his fingers pressing against the war table. His voice was quieter now, but heavier.
"Are you certain?"
Derrik exhaled sharply. "We saw the Titan-markings. They were burned beyond recognition."
Someone cursed under their breath. Another officer rubbed his temples, as if fighting off an incoming headache.
One of the older warlords, Durman, who had fought in the last Titan War, finally spoke.
"This... This isn''t just about one Titan waking up." His voice was rough, like sandpaper on steel. "I''ve seen this before. The world itself reacts when the old ones stir."
His eyes flickered toward the massive world map hanging on the wall.
"Strange occurrences will follow. Dungeons opening where they shouldn''t. Unstable Core fluctuations. The very land shifting."
The realization settled into the room like a storm cloud.
Aldric slowly turned his head. "And the Veilborns?"
Varik hesitated.
Then—
"We lost one."
Aldric''s grip on the table tightened.
For the first time, his expression darkened.
The Titan Hunter Federation had spent centuries ensuring the Veilborn remained under control. Their power was too great. Their nature—too dangerous.
If one had escaped, then the balance had already begun to break.
The Grand Marshal rose from his throne. His presence alone made the room feel smaller. He turned toward the Titan Hunter Council, his voice carrying the weight of a coming storm.
"The world is shifting. The seals are breaking."
His eyes burned with cold determination.
"Summon the Lords of War of the fortress and Alert the High Watchers."
"Mobilize every Hunter under our command."
He turned toward the massive horn of assembly, a relic from the last war. A weapon of sound, its call would echo across the entire Titanlands, the weapon they have pride for in the black spire.
Without hesitation—
He sounded the horn.
Its bellow roared through the fortress.
Through the mountains.
Through the skies.
And in that moment, across the vast continents, across the highest peaks and the deepest dungeons—
Something stirred.
The Era of Titans had begun anew.
And the world would never be the same again.