— GREAT EDRYAN, YEAR: 7298. SEASON: NEW BEGINNING.

  “ MY NAME IS LAWRUTHIAN IMPERIUS KOLTIUS EDRYANI. I AM THE CHOSEN OF MADRIS! TODAY, I DECLARE WAR ON THE FEDERATION OF FARYA AND THE EMPIRE OF AZ’DAWN. TODAY, I DECLARE THE GAME TO BEGIN! ”

  In the year of our Lady 7298, the Chosen of Madris, Lawruthian Imperius Koltius Edryani, declared war on the Federation of Farya and the Empire of Az’Dawn, beginning the third game of the Gods. High above, the Twelve Thrones watched, while down below, the Mortal Realm shifted. The reaction of many came late, if any reacted at all. As, in that moment, the silent but tense atmosphere across the continent erupted. A long tension had been built through the millennia, unable to be resolved due to the intervention of the Gods. Now, those very Gods removed their restrictions, allowing their races to do battle.

  Heroes will rise, but most will fall, unable to take that step, unable to break their shackles of mortality.

  Ninjaro Ibadan was a hero, that’s what he told himself, that’s what they told him. Since his youth, he’d been trained and given the clan’s resources. They said, ‘He will bring glory to the Ibadan, he will show Demigod Isiro that it is we who shall lead our people as he rises to that ultimate Glory.’

  Ninjaro believed it. His intellect was like no other, able to see patterns and make connections when no one else could. This ability led him to glory, enabling him to achieve victory over his peers and ascend to the helm of the Federation. He became the Arbitrator of Arbitrators — the lead voice and the heaviest decision maker. And, when he received that chance, that opportunity so few do, his comprehension and abilities soared to an entirely new realm—connections turned to calculations. Ninjaro could already easily see connections and patterns when none could, now he evolved that knowledge into calculations—to see past where even he couldn’t be certain of the outcome.

  Federation High Marshal Ninjaro, who commanded the entirety of the nation’s forces with complete authority, looked at the map of the Federation of Farya and the Queendom of Edryan. A dense number of red lights swarmed through the Mountains of Naah’Mi and the nation’s ocean outskirts, each representing a troop composed of a thousand or more Edryans. His eyes focused on one incredibly dense red dot that seemed to be formed from hundreds of smaller red lights. A smaller red dot seemed to drip from that large mass and make its way forward. A grand army of more than fifty thousand marched from the Narri Plains pass on the left edge of the continent. Then another dripped and approached a pass on the eastern edge. Two forward advance forces to test which side of the Federation showed weakness.

  There was far more than just red dots; on the Federation’s side of the map, a dense green line was hidden under that mountain range. Several large green dots composed of the same number, if not more people, were located in several positions, one of the largest nearly bumping into the invading army.

  “Was this also according to your calculations,” Arbitrator Ai’esha questioned next to him. “Let me guess, of course it was, since you mustered last year in preparations.”

  Ninjaro ignored her; instead, he focused on the two dots about to meet. The Federation had long since planned against an Edryan invasion. They cultivated a unique magical beast named the White-head Ants, one Star—a hive mind type of entity that was uniquely created to distinguish the mana of saphens and present messages by shaking their abdomen at certain frequencies.

  These creatures were cheap and uniquely connected so that messages could be passed from one hive to another even if separated by several kilometers. It was these hives, scattered underground throughout the Federation and partially Edryan, that could fairly accurately predict the enemy’s forces. Using them, over the course of several years, Ninjaro had deeply infiltrated the Edryan lands to gather military intelligence and prepare for when the Demigods rose to the Astral Above. Although they weren’t as far as Akoni, Edryan’s capital, they had deeply penetrated the lands near the shared border and beyond.

  “No,” Ninjaro finally answered. He turned to look at Ai’esha, who’d been staring at him. “But the military movements in Edryan were something I couldn’t ignore. Over the last few years, they’ve conducted several sorties, testing their response time nationwide. If that wasn’t a clear sign of what’s to come, then what is?”

  The Federation’s spy network in Edryan was intensely deep. They’d trained the humans of the Federation in magi culture and had infiltrated the nation even before Ninjaro’s term as the Grand Arbitrator.

  Ai’esha silently pondered, turning her attention back to the map. “That’s Mojo and Asan’s forces. You should have stationed me there instead.”

  “And let you cause trouble,” Ninjaro chuckled, sending a few commands to Mojo and Asan. “I don’t think so. You’d likely try and chase them back into Edryan instead of just fending them off.”

  Ai’esha rolled her eyes. She brought a hand up and scratched at her chin. “I’m not that stubborn.”

  Ninjaro and much of the core of the Strategic Command Center paused momentarily. A glare from Ai’esha sent them back into action. She opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off by a voice from a communication wizard.

  “Field Marshal, we’ve received reports that the army’s banner is that of the Imperius Army. It is highly suspected that the Chosen of Madris is accompanying this army.”

  “Not highly, he is,” Ninjaro responded. Immediately holding out his hand, he grabbed Ai’esha’s shoulder.

  “Are you crazy,” she hissed. She’d been forced to halt by Ninjaro as she prepared to sortie her army and set out. Her red eyes were wide, and her large body seemed to increase by a size or two. Ai’esha had long prepared for this battle, not just by her own desire but by the Federation’s need for Champions who could face Edryan’s Chosen of Madris.

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  “No,” Ninjaro responded confidently. “Mojo and Asan should be enough to repel and rout the Imperius Army even with the Chosen of Madris present. He’s not a God nor even a Demigod, and we’ve accurately measured his power and potential power in the coming years,” Ninjaro’s voice was firm, confident. “Both Asan and Mojo have several high-levelers close to that limit, with them all trained to counter Goddess Madris’s Chosen. I don’t believe they won’t be able to rout him. This is not a one-man show but an army against an army… or do you not believe in the power of the Federation?”

  Ai’esha remained quiet before calming down. She still vividly remembered the power displayed by Lawruthian as he faced against Wilarax. Had she not known better, she would have believed him to be a demigod. Ai’esha had trained since, preparing herself to be one of the primary forces that countered the Chosen of Madris. Hearing the confidence in Ninjaro’s voice calmed her somewhat and returned her to a clear state of mind.

  Ninjaro focused on another force of twenty thousand Asigbonle who were deployed deep underground. The bloodline of his people allowed them to swim through the earth as they once did in the sea. Ninjaro turned to a stationed wizard who served as a communications officer. The Asigbonle weren’t the magi, and very few of them achieve the status of having a connection with magic. Most Asigbonle warriors were proficient with Energy, but the nation had long since developed a Wizard Corps during their conquest of the former Merchant Republic and the Principality.

  “Send a message to Corps Commander Lorra Sokoto,” Ninjaro commanded. “She is to move into a position of 500 meters below the invading Imperius Army and engage after both Arbitrator Asan and Arbitrator Mojo have repelled the first charge to the Edryan army.”

  He turned back to Ai’esha and commented. “We have nearly two and a half million stationed along the border. We confirmed that roughly a million Edryan soldiers gathered at Drumia before establishing a base along the border—that’s nearly two and a half soldiers for every magi. It’s laughable if the Chosen of Madris and the Edryan Strategic Command believe they can conquer the Federation with only a million soldiers. They would rather focus a majority of their efforts against the Empire.”

  Ninjaro chuckled. “We will make them pay the price for underestimating the Federation.”

  Ninjaro took a deep breath. His calm eyes continued to watch the large map as the force of Edryans neared the stationed army of Asan’s and Mojo’s. This was it. This was the start of a grand game between the Gods. Ninjaro sat at the Federation’s helm, feeling awestruck at the power he wielded. Field Marshal Ninjaro Ibadan, the Supreme Commander in both military and government entrusted with the task of keeping his people safe and leading them to victory.

  Ninjaro closed his eyes, and a second deep breath entered his lungs. A Hero… he was a Hero of the Federation, first gaining the class during the consolidation of the nations below Edryan. The battle they held was through the efforts of Grandfather Isiro and his ability to communicate with the Twelve Thrones. It was here that a young Ninjaro first tasted battle and even fought alongside hired Edryan mercenaries.

  He opened his eyes, their sole target the two approaching dots. One green and twice as large as the red. The Edryans were invading, and the Federation held the advantage, having long since created a defensive military base named Forger’s Keep on their side of the pass. It would be neigh impossible for the Chosen of Madris, even with his incredible strength, to break through such a defense. And, in the case of unexpected surprises, Ninjaro deployed the cousin of the Sokoto Arbitrator underneath. A specialized force built for quick attacks and surprises.

  Next to him, Ai’esha paced back and forth, her large and slightly pointed ears twitching at every remark.

  Ninjaro smirked, glancing at her as he commented. “You’re nervous. The mighty Ai’esha is nervous?”

  Ninjaro laughed. Not even he, who held the decision and trust of not just his people but the source of their faith, was nervous, but Ai’esha was.

  “How can you not be nervous,” Ai’esha scoffed, growing excited as she continued. “Doesn’t this feel surreal? Like the beginning of legends told about Demigod Isiro and the origins of the Asigbonle?!”

  Ai’esha wasn’t the only one who felt this way. Every member in Strategic Command felt a certain sense of surrealism. They’d trained for this, intensely—running drills to Ninjaro’s satisfaction time and time again. To see it truly happening, put some in a dream-like state, unable to fully believe this was occurring.

  “Nervous? Not since long ago. Not since I was entrusted with the responsibility to guide our people by Grandfather. Nervous,” Ninjaro repeated. “How can I be nervous with the responsibility of an Asigbonle life depending on my, Ninjaro Ibadan’s Law of Calculation. I cannot be nervous on this Path. I can only be certain that my actions, my calculations, are the correct ones, every time. Every time. ”

  Ninjaro couldn’t be nervous. He couldn’t afford to be nervous. He wasn’t even on the battlefield currently—hundreds of kilometers away, safe at the Strategic Command Center. Ninjaro wanted to be on the battlefield, but he knew his abilities only truly showed when he held as much data as possible and possessed a viewpoint of near omniscience over the battlefield.

  “Who would have thought my once snot-nose little cousin could say something so inspirational,’ Ai’esha laughed, rubbing her nose as a bit of the nervousness faded.

  Ninjaro ignored her quip. His eyes were drawn to the map and the flashing green of the Forger’s Keep. A message was received from the base, and Ninjaro quickly looked toward the communication officer in charge of that base.

  “Field Marshal…”

  “Speak!”

  “Forger’s Keep has reported Initial Contact. I repeat, Forger’s Keep has reported Initial Contact. They have spotted the approaching magi army and confirmed the presence of the Chosen of Madris.”

  Ninjaro’s eyes aligned on the two different dots, slowly converging and meeting. This only meant one thing.

  The battle has begun.