The armory of the newly consolidated "Sanctuary of the Twin Peaks" – a name Renn had chosen for the old Silvan Bastion, in a nod to his original Sanctuary and the imposing mountains that surrounded it – buzzed with contained but palpable activity. On long, dark wooden tables, neat and orderly under Seraphina's supervision, rested the gleaming sets of runic armor and sacred war spears, freshly materialized from Renn's inventory thanks to the System. The amber light from the Primordial Essence Pond, channeled through ingenious crystal reflectors that Nyra had devised to illuminate key areas of the Bastion, made the runes etched into the metal shimmer with a soft glow, promising protection and power.
The once-Templars, normally a paradigm of martial discipline even in their moments of rest, couldn't hide the spark of excitement in their eyes as Eryn, their commander, called them one by one to receive their new equipment. The air smelled of new metal, treated leather, and the subtle fragrance of runic magic.
"Selene, Thalia, Vera, Sigrid, Lirien, Lin, and you two, Kaelia and Elara – the newest sisters to join our ranks from the Cathedral –" Eryn began, her voice resonating with her usual authority, though a hint of pride and satisfaction seeped into it as she saw the quality of the gear. (We've named the two remaining Templars to facilitate narration.) "Approach. Our Lord, in his infinite wisdom and generosity, has provided to strengthen our arms and protect our hearts in his name."
The eight Templars mentioned stepped forward, their gazes fixed on the equipment with a mix of awe and gratitude. The sets of "Templar Runic Armor" were impressive: dark steel plates, polished to a satin sheen, that seemed ergonomically designed for the female figure, allowing agility without sacrificing protection. They were etched with fine silver runes that promised to deflect blows and mitigate hostile magic. The "Sacred War Spears" were lethal works of art: shafts of white ash, light yet incredibly sturdy, topped with feather-shaped blades of steel that seemed to radiate a faint light of their own, almost whispering their blessing.
"Each of you will receive a complete set: armor and spear," Eryn continued, her tone imbued with a solemnity that spread through the group. "Equip yourselves. Feel their weight, their balance. Make them an extension of your faith and your will to serve the Lord. He expects your devotion and your combat skill to be magnified by these sacred tools."
There was a murmur of gratitude and awe. Lin, the youngest, whose courage had grown exponentially since her first mission, caressed the cold metal of a runic breastplate with reverence, her knuckles brushing a warding rune. "It's… magnificent, Commander Eryn," she whispered, her eyes shining with a mix of gratitude and a new, fierce determination. "With this… I'll be able to better protect my sisters and serve the Lord."
Melisa and Astrid watched from the side, alongside Renn and his inner circle of nuns, who had come to witness this moment of their Order's strengthening. Melisa's smile was wide and expectant, her fingers toying with the hilt of her own improved dagger. Astrid, arms crossed over her imposing chest, simply nodded once, a rare expression of deep approval on her usually fierce and battle-thirsty face.
"Now," Renn said, his voice drawing all eyes, warm but with that unmistakable edge of authority that had begun to settle naturally. "Eryn. Astrid. Melisa." The three instinctively straightened, their gazes fixed on their Lord. "For you, whose ferocity and leadership have been exemplary, something… special." He pointed to three makeshift pedestals, covered with crimson silk cloth, where the "Elite Runic Armors" rested. As the cloths were removed, the difference was palpable. These were visibly superior: thicker plates of bluish-black metal that seemed to absorb ambient light, with intricate golden runes that were not only engraved, but seemed to move and breathe with an energy of their own. They radiated an aura of contained power and formidable resilience.
Astrid's eyes widened, a feat in itself. A guttural growl of pure admiration escaped her throat. Melisa let out a sharp, admiring whistle, her green eyes gleaming with greed and excitement. Eryn stepped forward, her legendary stoicism visibly cracking, her lips parted in silent astonishment. "My... my lord... this is... it's too much. We don't deserve such a distinction."
"You earned it abundantly, Commander," Renn said with a genuine smile, meeting Eryn's gaze. "You three are the spearhead of my Templars, the embodiment of the Order's fury and faith. You need the best steel, the best protection we can afford. Try them on."
The three approached, almost with reverence, to examine their new armors. The quality was undeniable; touching them, they felt lighter than their imposing appearance suggested, and the energy they emanated was palpable, a promise of power and resilience.
"With this…" Astrid equipped hers first, the plates fitting her muscular figure as if they had been forged for her. She flexed her biceps, and the golden runes on the bracers glowed brightly. "I could split an alpha troll in half with one arm and use the other half to clean my boots!" Her laugh was a true torrent.
Melisa, already clad in her elite armor, spun around, the black and gold plates reflecting the light in dancing flashes. She moved with feline agility, the armor adapting to her every movement like a second skin. "And I'll look absolutely fabulous while making necklaces out of the ears of those unknown scouts who dare to snoop around! Thank you, my lord, thank you! I promise not to stain it… too much… with unworthy enemy blood!" Her laughter echoed, infecting some of the other Templars, who watched with a mix of healthy envy and admiration.
As the Templars equipped themselves, marveling at the perfect – almost magical – fit and the power they felt emanating from their new armors and weapons, Renn met with his inner circle and Eryn in the adjoining strategy room to plan the next move. Nyra, with Valka's help, projected a tactical map of the territory surrounding the Bastion, using a combination of information from Ardyn's map and reports from their own patrols.
"Unidentified scout groups are still active," Nyra noted, marking a forested area to the west with a circle of violet light emanating from her fingers. "Their behavior is cautious but persistent. They are evaluating our defenses and looking for weak points or infiltration routes. If we don't act, they could grow bolder or, worse, lead a larger force directly to our gates, whoever these 'Commanders of the Shadow Frontier' may be."
"Not total annihilation unless unavoidable," Renn reiterated his words from the previous day, his voice now firm and determined. "But certainly a show of power that makes them retreat and reconsider their ambitions. And I want information. Eryn," he turned to his commander, who already looked imposing in her new elite armor, the golden runes contrasting with her severe expression. "Take your elite squad: you, Melisa, Astrid, and Lin. Show them why this territory now belongs to the Sacred Order. I want reports, prisoners if possible, but above all, I want them to feel our power and deliver a very clear message to those who sent them."
Eryn nodded, her new elite armor gleaming with golden runes. Her gaze was pure steel. "Understood, my lord. We will give them a message they cannot ignore. We will depart immediately."
Lilith playfully elbowed Renn. "Don't you need a Succubus Seraph to… oversee the persuasion, my lord? I could make sure the prisoners sing like heavenly canaries." Renn gave her an ironic smile. "I trust the... eloquence of Eryn and her girls. You and Seraphina have work here with the preparations for the Tithe ritual. Nyra, Valka, I need you to continue investigating the nature of those Sleeper disturbances and any connection to the Reliquary map."
An hour later, the small but formidable squad of the Sacred Order moved with lethal stealth through the dense undergrowth of the Sanctuary of the Twin Peaks' western territory. Eryn led, her new elite armor allowing surprisingly silent movement for its bulk, her senses sharpened. Melisa leaped among the shadows like an assassin pixie, her contained laughter barely a whisper on the wind. Astrid advanced with the restrained force of a lurking beast, each step deliberate and powerful. And Lin, though still with a flicker of nervousness in her eyes, kept pace steadily, her new Sacred War Spear at the ready, watching and learning from her veteran sisters, the protection of her runic armor giving her a confidence she previously lacked.
Soon they found their target: an improvised camp of a dozen crude-looking scouts, clad in leather and rusty metal armor, gathered around a poorly concealed campfire that barely warmed the damp forest air. By their worn spiral insignias and heterogeneous equipment, it was still impossible to determine their exact affiliation.
Eryn made an almost imperceptible hand signal, and the plan, briefly discussed before departing, was executed with the precision of a well-oiled war machine. Melisa, using her almost supernatural agility and the stealth afforded by the night and her new armor, slipped along the flank, a shadow among shadows, invisible among the thorny bushes. Astrid, at a signal from Eryn, held her breath and prepared for a frontal charge that would shake the earth. Lin positioned herself to cover Eryn's rear, her spear steady, her breathing controlled.
The first indication the scouts had that their day – or rather, their existence – was about to take a dramatic turn for the worse was a choked, gurgling cry when Melisa, appearing out of nowhere like a materialized nightmare, plunged her Sacred War Spear into the throat of a yawning sentry. Before the unfortunate body hit the ground, Melisa was already on the next, her runic dagger (a personal gift from Renn, enhanced in the Sacred Workshop) carving a bubbling, mortal furrow in his side. The new elite armor she wore seemed to move with her like a dark second skin, the golden runes glowing faintly as they channeled her energy and speed.
"Alarm! We're under attack!" shouted one of the scouts, barely having time to draw a dull, rusty sword.
It was then that Astrid charged. Her war cry was not articulate, but a primal, guttural roar that seemed to rise from the very entrails of the forest. Her advance, with the new elite armor absorbing the dim light and appearing even more imposing and monolithic, was like that of a living, unleashed battering ram. The first scout who pathetically tried to stop her was sent flying backward with a single, brutal blow from her heavy war spear, his crude armor denting as if it were thin tin, the sound of bones breaking clearly audible even over Astrid's scream. The second scout didn't even have time to raise his improvised shield before Astrid's onslaught ran him over; her strength magnified by the new equipment and her berserker fury was simply unstoppable, a force of nature.
Eryn advanced with lethal, professional calm, her Sacred War Spear a blur of blessed steel in the gloom. There were no unnecessary movements in her style, just brutal efficiency polished by countless battles. She parried a clumsy lunge with the haft of her spear, counterattacked with a pommel strike to the solar plexus that folded her opponent like a reed, and finished him with a clean, upward slash to the jugular. Her elite armor deflected a crossbow bolt fired in desperation by another scout, the metal tip bouncing off with a simple, harmless tink.
Lin, at first, lagged slightly, her eyes wide as she watched the controlled carnage with a mix of awe and the thrum of battle in her veins. But when a wounded scout, limping but still dangerous, tried to flank Eryn while she was occupied with another enemy, adrenaline and her oath to her Lord took over. With a sharp, surprisingly fierce cry, she lunged forward, her Sacred War Spear, now an extension of her faith and courage, finding its mark in the enemy's exposed chest. The surprise in the man's eyes was the last thing he saw before falling backward, life leaving him with a sigh. Lin gasped, the spear's recoil vibrating in her arms, but a new, ardent confidence shone in her eyes. She had protected her commander. Her new equipment had not failed her.
The "battle," if it could even be called that, was short, completely one-sided, and brutally efficient. The unknown scouts, outmatched in individual skill, team cohesion, and now also equipment, stood no real chance. The Templars of the Sacred Order, with their new runic weapons and armors, moved like true angels of death, their unwavering faith and martial power magnified to new heights.
When the last enemy fell with a choked moan, Melisa leaned on her spear, smiling widely, though her gleaming elite armor was inevitably splattered with the dark blood of her victims. "Well, that was... exhilarating and quite quick. I think this armor gives me luck, or maybe it just makes me much more terrifying to these bumpkins! They didn't even offer a decent challenge!"
Astrid simply grunted, methodically wiping her spear on the dead scout's torn cloak. "They lasted less than a sick, scared kobold cub. Garbage."
Eryn, already professionally inspecting the camp, gave her troops a nod of approval. "Good work, sisters. Quick, clean, efficient." She knelt beside what appeared to be the leader of the scout group, a burly man with a distinctive scar on his cheek. Among his belongings, besides some basic supplies and a few low-quality crystals, they found a rolled parchment sealed with a crude emblem of a wolf howling at a broken moon.
Eryn broke the seal and read quickly. Her eyes narrowed. "Interesting," she murmured. She turned to her sisters. "The orders do not come from a known Lord, at least not one listed in Ardyn's records. The parchment speaks of a 'Commander of the Wolfmark', and details this individual's intention to 'probe the strength of the new power that has claimed the old Silvan Bastion.' It orders his scouts to evaluate our defenses, the morale of our troops, and the nature of our leadership, reporting any weaknesses for a 'possible future action of subjugation or forced alliance.'" The orders also mention the need to avoid a large-scale direct conflict for now, prioritizing information and discreet infiltration. Clearly, this mission had failed spectacularly in that last aspect.
"'Commander of the Wolfmark'…" Eryn repeated, putting away the parchment. "It's not a name that appears in Ardyn's records of known Lords in this region. It could be a minor undeclared faction, an emerging Lord, or a powerful tribal leader operating in the wilder, lawless areas beyond our borders. Whoever they are, they know we're here and are gauging our forces with hostile intentions." She looked at Lin, who was still a little pale from the intensity of the combat but stood tall and proud. "Well done, Lin. Your first blood with the new equipment. And your first decisive victory. Keep it up, and soon you'll be as fearsome as Astrid."
Lin blushed with pleasure at her commander's praise, though a shadow of concern crossed her face at the thought of this new and mysterious "Commander of the Wolfmark." "Thank you, Commander Eryn. I will serve to the best of my ability."
They returned to the Sanctuary of the Twin Peaks at dusk, leaving behind a silenced camp and an unmistakable message. The information they brought was valuable, confirming the hostile intentions of at least one unknown force on their borders and giving them a vague name and insignia to begin investigating. The few crystals and supplies were a minor advantage, but the true victory was the demonstration of the overwhelming might of the enhanced Templars and the bloody message sent to this mysterious Commander.
Renn received them in the strategy room, his inner circle already present. He listened to Eryn's report with a smile of approval that didn't quite reach his eyes, which gleamed with cold calculation. "Good work, sisters. It seems new steel sings a good melody. A 'Commander of the Wolfmark,' huh... Sounds like the kind of annoying neighbor we don't want to have, but one we'll have to visit soon."
While Seraphina and Nyra began to analyze the new information and plan countermeasures, Valka, who had been observing the horizon from one of the Bastion's newly repaired towers, approached Renn. Her expression was unreadable, like the sea before an impending storm.
"My lord," she said in a low voice, her breath forming a cloud in the cold evening air that was beginning to fill the hall. "This 'Commander's' scouts were a distraction, perhaps. A superficial wave breaking on the shore." She paused, and her blue eyes fixed on Renn's with a deep, unsettling intensity. "The deep currents... those of the Whispering Peaks... have stirred again. With a force I haven't felt before." Her voice dropped even lower, almost a whisper that made Renn's skin crawl. "The name the water whispers with fear and reverence... Azrael... Its echo is stronger, more insistent. I feel that the moment to use your Unique Summoning Seal is approaching, my lord, whether you want it or not. The disturbance of the Sleepers and this new whisper of the forbidden name... they are intrinsically connected. And time, my lord, I feel that time is running out quickly."
The mention of the name Azrael had resonated in Renn's mind like a dark prophecy; the name linked to the Unique Summoning Seal, which he now felt almost vibrating in his inventory, sent an icy shiver down his spine. The calm, however brief, had ended abruptly. The Shadow Frontier and its Commander were just the prelude to something much larger, much older, and potentially, much more terrifying. Azrael. The Herald of the End.