"We have guests!" the watchtower guard shouted, his voice cracking. "Many guests! Weird guests!"
"Dorian is at the excavation site," the Captain of the Guard called out as the gates groaned open. "He will return shortly. Please, follow me to the Unity Hall."
They were led to a newly constructed building in the center of the village. It wasn't a standard meeting room.
Inside, the furniture was a chaotic masterpiece of inclusion. There were slender, high-backed chairs for Elves. There was a massive, reinforced log-bench for a Giant. And there were standard wooden chairs lined with thick cotton pads.
"Here is a seat for the Skeleton representative," the Captain explained, pointing to the padded chair. "Lord Dorian insisted. He said bone scratches easily on wood."
"Wow," Ronan whispered, touching the cushion. He sat down gingerly. "This is... soft. I have never sat on soft before."
"And here is the seat for..." The Captain looked at Juna, then at her wings. "Oh. There are Winged Elves, too?"
"I am a Fairy," Juna corrected with a polite smile, though her wings buzzed with irritation. "Not an Elf."
"She is just a deluxe model Elf," Arin smirked, leaning against the table. "Comes with flight accessories."
SMACK.
Juna slapped Arin between the shoulder blades.
"I have noted that," the Captain said, sweating. "Lord Cian will design a custom chair for... the Fairy... next time."
Minutes later, the door swung open. Dorian walked in, covered in mud and stone dust. Halin ducked through the extra-tall doorway behind him, looking equally filthy. They had just come from the dig site.
"I will be with you in a minute," Dorian said, putting down his heavy pickaxe. "We have broken through to the other side."
He went to a basin of water to scrub the grime from his arms. Halin handed his shovel to Umber and did the same.
When they finally sat down—Dorian at the head, Halin on the massive log-bench—the room felt full. The Alliance was complete.
"Hey everyone," Dorian smiled, looking around the table. "I hope you are all finally united in your own lands."
"Now, you must be Dorian, right?" Ronan asked, looking at the massive Giant.
"No," Halin laughed, a deep rumble that shook the table. "I am Halin. That little one is Dorian."
"Ah," Ronan nodded, turning his skull toward the human. "I met a human in the desert. Cian."
"Cian is my friend," Dorian explained. "He is from the east."
"So, what brings you all here?" Dorian asked, getting to the point.
"You helped us in our land," Arin said, his face serious.
"And we heard you have a problem," Ronan added.
"So, we came to return the favor," Juna finished. "What is the situation?"
Dorian sighed. He gestured to Halin.
"It’s about High Chief Gorak," Halin began, his voice heavy with regret. "He has gone mad. He is destroying citizens' homes. He wipes out anything related to human discovery. Logic is dead in the North."
"Then we can't use the soft approach," Juna suggested, leaning forward. "This is madness."
"It gets worse," Halin continued. "Lately, he has formed an alliance with the Goblins. They are teaching him to make explosives. If he marches, he brings bombs that can level this village in seconds."
Arin scoffed, crossing his arms. "A mad Giant and cowardly Goblins against three united lands? They cannot win."
"Perhaps," Ronan countered, his eye sockets grim. "But we cannot afford a war of attrition. Thousands will die. My people are already dead; yours are not."
"We need to evacuate the innocent Giants before the fighting starts," Halin decided. "If we attack while the civilians are trapped, Gorak may use them as shields."
"Then let's continue the Tunnel Plan," Dorian said, standing up. "Come with me."
He led the group out of the hall and toward the mountain base. As they walked, Dorian outlined the strategy.
"Halin, show them the map."
Halin unrolled a massive sheet of mammoth leather. It showed a cross-section of the mountain range.
"The tunnel will be finished by this evening," Dorian pointed to the thin line of ink. "We will meet with Karn, our spy on the other side."
Dorian looked at his team, assigning roles like a conductor.
- The Infiltration:
"Halin and Umber. You are Giants; the people trust you. You will go through the tunnel to Frosthold. Rally the citizens. Get them moving."
- The Overwatch:
"Arin and Juna. If something goes wrong, or if Gorak’s patrol spots the evacuation, you buy us time. Use your magic to confuse and delay. Do not engage unless necessary."
- The Logistics:
"Ronan. You are an expert on moving starving people through difficult terrain. You manage the flow in the tunnel. Keep them moving."
- The Sanctuary:
"Myself, Cian, Kael, and Serena. We prepare the housing. And if Gorak attacks..." Dorian patted the hilt of his sword. "We bring the Musketeers and Cannoneers to the tunnel mouth. We hold the line."
Everyone nodded. The plan was solid.
"Then let's dig," Dorian commanded.
BOOM.
The final wall of rock shattered. Dust billowed out, revealing the cold, grey light of Frosthold on the other side. The Tunnel was open.
Halin and Umber squeezed through the gap, rushing into the city. They didn't look like heroes; they looked like shepherds trying to save a flock from a wolf.
"Move! Move!" Karn hissed from the entrance.
The evacuation was messy. Giants carried furniture, heirlooms, sacks of grain.
"Drop the cargo!" Halin ordered, his voice cracking from the dry air. "Lives weigh nothing! Carry only the living!"
He physically wrestled a heavy chest of gold from a merchant's grip and threw it into the snow. "The gold doesn't breathe! Move!"
The Giants reluctantly dropped their sacks. The pile of discarded items began to block the tunnel mouth.
"We need to clear the way!" Ronan shouted, struggling to shove a barrel the size of a wagon. "It’s a bottleneck!"
"Leave it to us," Arin stepped forward. He raised his hand, his Fruit of Life glowing. "Gravity Spell: Repulse."
WHOOSH.
The massive barrels and tables were lifted into the air and tossed aside like toys, clearing the path.
"Keep them moving," Juna urged, watching the sky. "The sun is rising."
The evacuation took longer than calculated. Giants are not built for stealth. The ground shook with their footsteps.
As the sun peeked over the icy peaks, a ray of light hit the West Watchtower. The napping guard stirred, blinking against the glare.
He looked down. He saw a river of his own people flowing into a hole in the mountain. He saw Elves using magic. He saw Skeletons directing traffic.
"INTRUDERS!" the guard screamed, grabbing the rope of the warning bell.
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
"It’s too late!" Arin reacted instantly. He levitated a heavy barrel of ale and launched it at the tower.
CRASH.
The barrel smashed into the guard, knocking him cold, but the bell had already rung. The sound echoed across the city.
"They know we are here!" Karn shouted, drawing his daggers. "Move! Run!"
"Where are Halin and Umber?" Juna asked, panic rising in her voice.
"I will find them!" Karn sprinted back into the city streets.
Deep in the residential district, Halin and Umber were herding the last group of stragglers.
"This is the last group!" Umber whispered, pushing a family toward the hole.
Then, the ground shook. Heavy, rhythmic thuds approached.
"ROYAL GUARD!" Halin roared. "RUN!"
As the defectors scrambled, Umber saw movement in the corner of his eye. A small Giant Toddler—confused by the noise, abandoned in the panic—crawled out of a doorway.
The Royal Guard was charging down the street. They were blinded by loyalty and rage. They wouldn't stop. They would trample the child into paste.
"I have to do something," Umber growled.
"Hey! Where are you going?" Halin shouted.
Umber didn't answer. He turned back, sprinting into the open street. He scooped the toddler up in his arms just as the Royal Guard turned the corner.
"TRAITORS!"
The voice was louder than the avalanche. King Gorak marched at the head of the column. His face was a ruin—the shattered tusk, the scar—twisted in madness.
He saw Umber holding the child. He didn't see a rescuer. He saw a thief stealing his subjects.
Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.
Gorak raised a massive Iron Spear—thick as a tree trunk. He pulled his arm back, muscles bulging like cables.
"Watch out!" Halin screamed.
Halin raised his masterpiece—the Heavy Crossbow. He didn't hesitate. He pulled the trigger.
THWACK.
The steel bolt flew true. It struck Gorak’s shoulder, biting deep into the muscle.
But Gorak was beyond pain. He didn't flinch. He didn't drop the spear. With a roar of pure hate, he launched it at Umber’s back.
The air shrieked.
Umber was too slow. He was cradling the child to his chest. He couldn't dodge without exposing the baby. He braced himself for death.
Halin made the calculation in a fraction of a second.
Umber is strong, but he is slow. The child is fragile.
Halin dropped his crossbow. He didn't run away; he ran in. He threw his body into the path of the projectile.
"RUN!" Halin shouted.
THUD.
The sound was wet and terrible.
The spear caught Halin in the center of his chest. The force was so catastrophic it lifted him off his feet and pinned him to the frozen earth.
"NO!" Umber screamed, skidding to a halt.
He looked back. Halin was on his knees, the spear passing completely through him, anchoring him to the ice.
Halin looked at Umber. He looked at the child safe in Umber's arms. He didn't look in pain. He looked... relieved. The Diplomat had negotiated his final trade: My life for theirs.
"Go..." Halin wheezed, blood bubbling past his lips. "Don't... let the tunnel... close."
His head fell forward. The light in his eyes faded. The Builder of Bridges was gone.
"Kill them all!" Gorak roared, ripping the crossbow bolt from his own shoulder and snapping it like a twig. "Leave no one alive!"
Umber stood there, frozen by grief. The Royal Guard was closing in.
"Umber! MOVE!" Karn appeared, grabbing Umber’s arm. "He gave his life for you! Don't waste it!"
Umber looked at Gorak. He etched the King’s face into his memory.
Then, he looked down.
Lying in the snow, next to Halin’s body, was the Heavy Crossbow. It was the symbol of Halin’s mind—the tool that had saved them from the wolves, the invention that had modernized their race.
Umber gently set the toddler onto a safe ledge. Then, he reached down.
His large, scarred hand closed around the stock of the crossbow. It felt cold, but heavy with meaning.
I cannot bring you back, Umber thought, tears freezing on his cheeks. But I can carry your anger.
He lifted the weapon. He didn't fire it. He strapped it to his back.
"You will pay for this," Umber whispered to the wind.
He turned and ran. He ran for the tunnel, the weight of his best friend pressing against his spine, carrying the legacy of the Diplomat into the war.
Umber and Karn burst out of the tunnel mouth, diving onto the grass.
“They are right behind us! Collapse the entrance!” Karn shouted, rolling to his feet.
“How? It’s solid rock!” Arin yelled.
Karn pointed to the massive timber beams the Giants had used to shore up the opening. “Pull the supports!”
“Leave it to us,” Juna said. She harmonized her voice with the wood.
Hummmmm-SNAP.
The timbers groaned and yanked themselves free.
BOOM.
Just as a screaming Goblin with a lit fuse leaped toward the opening, the mountain sighed. Tons of rock crashed down, crushing the Goblin and sealing the tunnel. Dust billowed out, coating the Alliance in gray.
While the soldiers held the line, Dorian led the refugees further South to the coast.
“Dear Giant refugees,” Finn announced, standing next to a pile of steamed mackerel and tuna that was literally the size of a house. “You must be tired. We prepared a snack.”
The starving Giants didn't wait for manners. They descended on the pile. In less than two minutes, the mountain of fish was reduced to a pile of clean bones.
“Wow,” Dorian whispered to Finn, watching a Giant swallow a tuna whole. “I think we underestimated the size of their stomachs.”
“I swear I will catch more next time,” Finn bowed, looking terrified that they might eat him next.
“That’s not necessary,” Dorian smiled grimly. “You fed an army, Finn. That is enough.”
Dorian rode back to the front lines. He counted the heads.
Karn. Umber. Ronan. Arin. Juna.
He stopped. He looked at Umber, who was gripping his axe so tight his knuckles were white.
“Where is Halin?” Dorian asked.
The silence was deafening.
“He’s gone,” Umber whispered, staring at the blocked tunnel.
“What? How?” Ronan stood up, his bones rattling.
“He saved me,” Umber choked out. “Gorak threw a spear at a child. Halin... he made himself a shield. He anchored himself to the ice so we could run.”
Dorian closed his eyes. Halin—the builder, the peacemaker, the friend—was dead.
“Gorak...” Arin hissed, his hands glowing with angry mana. “This is beyond madness.”
“We mourn later,” Dorian opened his eyes. They were hard as steel. “Today, we make sure Halin is the last innocent to die.”
BOOM.
The blocked tunnel exploded outward. Debris rained down on the human lines.
“They are coming! Prepare for battle!” Dorian ordered.
Wave 1: The Bombers
A horde of Bomber Goblins rushed out of the smoke, fuses lit on their chests, screaming maniacally.
“Musketeers! Fire!”
CRACK-CRACK-CRACK.
A volley of lead cut them down. The Goblins exploded harmlessly in the middle of the field, creating a firewall.
Wave 2: The Iron Wall
Through the fire came the Armored Giants. They wore thick plates of steel.
“Second line! Fire!”
The bullets sparked off the armor like rain. The Human line began to buckle under the sheer weight of the charge.
“Switch lines!” Dorian commanded. “Skeletons! Surge!”
Ronan led the charge. The Skeletons didn't try to overpower the Giants. They were small, agile, and fearless. They swarmed up the Giants’ legs, stabbing into the gaps of the armor, distracting them.
Wave 3: The Magic Artillery
“Arin, Juna, it’s time,” Dorian whispered.
“I didn’t bring an army,” Arin said, confused.
“You are the army,” Dorian pointed to Cian and the Eastern Archers. “Enchant their arrows. Make them pierce those armored.”
“Oh,” Arin grinned. “With pleasure.”
Arin and Juna rushed the line. They touched the arrowheads, infusing them with purple arcane energy and green nature poison.
“Sky Archers! Fire!” Cian signaled.
THWIP.
The arrows didn't fly; they hummed. They punched through the thick Giant steel like it was paper. The front line of Gorak’s army fell.
Finally, the Boss emerged.
King Gorak stepped onto the field. He was a monster of rage, his scar pulsing, flanked by Brog and the Goblin reserve.
“I think we should retreat...” Brog suggested, looking at the magic arrows vaporizing steel. “Those are the Kissing Monsters from the jungle!”
“No way!” Gorak shouted. “I will crush them!”
Brog looked at the mad King. He looked at the organized Alliance.
“Nope. We quit!” Brog yelled.
The Goblins looked at each other, nodded, and suddenly turned around. They didn't run back to the tunnel; they ran toward the cliffs, diving into the ocean to swim for their lives.
“Cowards!” Gorak roared, watching his explosive support vanish.
Gorak turned back to the Alliance. He was alone, but he was still a King.
“You are only good at ganging up!” Gorak bellowed. “Is there no one brave enough to face me? Or are you all little insects?”
Umber stepped forward. He walked past the human lines.
“You used to be my King,” Umber shouted. “Why did you do this?”
“Because I am strong!” Gorak yelled. “And strength rules!”
“You are just a coward hiding behind a big axe,” Umber countered.
“Umber,” Ronan climbed onto Umber’s shoulder. “You know it’s a trap, right? You can’t beat him one-on-one. He has the Royal Reach.”
“I know,” Umber smiled sadly. “That’s why I need you to leave.”
Umber leaned down. “Arin, Juna,” he whispered. “How far is your range?”
“Not far,” Juna admitted, panting. “We used almost everything on the arrows.”
“So I have to bring him close,” Umber nodded. “Get ready.”
Umber stood tall. He drew his worker’s axe—chipped and worn—against Gorak’s pristine battle-axe.
“Let’s fight,” Umber challenged. “If you win, Frosthold is yours. But if I win... you pay for Halin.”
“So be it,” Gorak sneered, stepping forward.
The battlefield fell silent. The armies watched as Umber stood alone against the monster who used to be his King.
Umber was bleeding. His worker's axe was chipped. He was exhausted.
"I am the Mountain!" Gorak roared, his voice shaking the remaining icicles from the tunnel mouth. He swung his massive battle-axe, shattering a boulder next to Umber’s head. "You are just a miner! You dig in the dirt while I rule the peaks!"
CLANG.
Umber blocked a strike, his knees buckling under the impact. He couldn't win this with strength. Gorak was bigger, angrier, and fueled by madness.
Gorak laughed, raising his axe for the killing blow. "Where is your little friend now, Umber? Where is the Diplomat to save you?"
Umber didn't cower. He dropped his axe.
"He is right here," Umber whispered.
He reached over his shoulder and unslung the Heavy Crossbow.
Gorak froze. He recognized it. It was the "toy" that had broken his tusk. The weapon of the traitor.
"You think a toy can kill a King?" Gorak sneered, stepping forward.
Umber slotted a heavy iron bolt into the groove. He leveled the weapon. But he didn't fire yet. He knew iron alone would bounce off Gorak’s enchanted plate armor.
"Arin! Juna!" Umber shouted, not taking his eyes off Gorak. "Make it count!"
Behind him, Arin and Juna clasped hands. They were drained, their mana nearly dry, but they poured their very life essence into one final spell.
Arin chanted the Formula of Velocity (Human Physics + Elven Magic).
Juna sang the Song of the Piercing Root (Fairy Nature).
HUMMMMMM.
The iron bolt in Umber’s crossbow didn't just glow; it screamed. Purple arcane lightning wrapped around the shaft, while green spectral vines twisted around the tip, hardening into a point sharper than diamond.
The bolt became a miniature comet of Unity.
"What... what is that?" Gorak gasped, blinding light filling his vision. For the first time, the Mad King felt fear. He raised his axe to block.
Umber looked down the sight. He didn't see a monster. He saw the King Gorak used to be—the strong leader who had protected them from the wolves. He saw the madness that had eaten his friend.
Rest now, Gorak, Umber thought. The digging is done.
"This isn't a toy," Umber said softly. "This is the Future."
He pulled the trigger.
THWACK-BOOM.
The sound was like a cannon shot.
The enchanted bolt flew faster than the eye could follow. It punched straight through Gorak’s axe blade, shattering the steel. It punched through his heavy plate armor. It punched through his chest.
The force of the impact lifted the massive King off his feet. He flew backward, slamming into the frozen earth.
The spectral vines on the bolt exploded outward, anchoring him to the ground—a mirror image of how he had pinned Halin.
Silence descended on the valley.
Umber walked slowly toward the fallen King. Gorak was gasping, the light in his eyes fading. The madness—the purple vein in his scar—was fading too, leaving only a tired, dying old giant.
Gorak looked up at the sky. Then he looked at Umber. He looked at the crossbow in Umber's hand.
"Halin..." Gorak wheezed, blood bubbling past his lips. "He... made good tools."
" The best," Umber said, his voice thick with grief. He knelt beside his King.
"Is the tunnel... clear?" Gorak asked, his mind wandering back to the old days when they were just miners.
"Yes, Chief," Umber lied kindly, holding Gorak’s massive hand. "We struck gold. The vein is endless."
Gorak smiled. A genuine, proud smile. "Good. Good work... miner."
His hand went limp. The Mad King was dead. The Friend was at peace.
Umber stood up. He unslung the crossbow and held it high above his head.
"VICTORY!"
The cheer that rose was deafening. It wasn't just a roar of triumph; it was a release of years of fear.
From the tunnel mouth, a steam whistle blew long and loud. The Iron Unity—the first train—rolled slowly onto the tracks, its headlight cutting through the gloom. It carried food from the East, medicine from the West, and hope for the North.
The flags of the East, West, North, South, and the Jungle flew together under one sky.
High above, across the veil of reality, the four Deities watched the celebration on the holographic screen.
"Well," Nara said, leaning back on the sofa and stretching her arms. "Technically, no race was eliminated. They all survived."
"It's a draw," Isolde declared, crossing her arms. "The game ended because the pieces refused to play by the rules."
"I think this game will never truly end," Valerius smiled, watching the mortals build a new world. "They grew beyond the code."
"What now?" Amara asked, picking up a macaron. "Shall we cook a new recipe for the next cycle? This one was... the most beautiful win. But not delicious."
She looked at Isolde. "Too much crunch. Not enough sweetness."
"Fine," Isolde rolled her eyes. "Next time, it's all about decoration, not the taste. We focus on aesthetics."
"Agreed," Valerius said.
But he didn't sit down. He stood up, his digital armor rippling slightly. He walked past the celebration screen and toward the Medical Bay at the back of their sanctuary.
Inside a stasis pod lay the Space Girl they had rescued from the World Eater. She was floating in blue liquid, her hair drifting like a nebula.
"First," the God of War said, his voice dropping to a serious whisper. "We need to have a talk with our guest. The Admin has questions."
He placed his hand on the glass. The girl’s eyes snapped open.