By mid-afternoon, the watchtowers of the Elven camp cast long shadows across the earth.
The sentries spotted the enormous blue figure long before he reached the camp.
The archers atop the towers tightened their grip on their bows, but none of them nocked an arrow.
They had already received their orders.
The Lizardmen Lord is an invited guest.
No arrows.
No drawn blades.
No action that could be mistaken for hostility.
The order had come directly from Supreme Commander Elyndra herself.
Even so…
Orders could not erase fear.
As Kroq-Gar crossed the defensive trench surrounding the camp, several Elven medics washing bloodstained bandages nearby froze in place.
One young Elven healer stared at the towering blue figure passing less than twenty paces away.
The damp bandage slipped from her fingers into the trench.
The current carried it away.
She never noticed.
The veteran medic beside her nudged her sharply with an elbow.
Only then did she snap back to reality.
She hurriedly reached into the water to retrieve the bandage.
After two failed attempts, she realised her hands were trembling.
Throughout the camp, every Elf stopped what they were doing.
The swordsmen practising in the training yard lowered their blades and stepped quietly aside.
Combat engineers repairing tents paused with needle and thread still in hand, every head turning toward the same direction.
The cooks surrounding the great stew cauldron all lowered their ladles.
One short Elven cook nudged his companion with the handle of his spoon and whispered in Elvish.
“So the scout captain wasn’t exaggerating.”
“He’s really that enormous.”
The entire camp seemed to freeze in place.
Only the wind rustling against the canvas tents…
And the distant changing of the guard around the siege lines…
Continued as though nothing had happened.
Every eye remained fixed on a single figure.
The ancient beast emerging from the rainforest.
Elyndra walked ahead, leading the way.
Her pace remained measured.
Yet every footstep landed more heavily than usual.
She was tense.
Fighting the instinct to walk faster.
As Supreme Commander, she could not allow her soldiers to see her hurrying through her own camp.
Behind her loomed an overwhelming presence.
Like a mountain that had decided to walk.
Kroq-Gar had brought only a single escort.
One company of Blessed Lizardmen Warriors.
Their pale golden scales shimmered beneath the afternoon sun with the same cold brilliance as polished steel.
Every one of them stood half a head taller than the tallest Elven Royal Guard.
They marched behind Kroq-Gar.
Their footsteps matched the rhythm of the Elven honour guard almost perfectly.
Yet each step struck the earth with far greater weight.
Without realising it, the Royal Guards shifted half a pace aside.
The corridor widened.
One ageing spearman stole a glance at the towering warriors beside him.
He swallowed hard.
Then fixed his eyes straight ahead.
“Commander.”
The guard standing outside the command tent bowed respectfully to Elyndra before stepping aside.
He deliberately avoided looking at the gigantic figure behind her.
Even so, he instinctively edged another step closer to the tent pole until his back pressed tightly against the canvas.
Elyndra stopped outside the entrance.
Quietly, she instructed the two guards.
“Immediately.”
“Tell her to come directly to my command tent.”
The guards ran noticeably faster than usual.
She dismissed the Royal Guard Captain with a gesture.
He stepped back two paces.
Then looked once more toward the Blessed Warriors standing silently inside the tent.
The spears resting upon their shoulders were significantly thicker than standard Elven weapons.
Their spearheads lacked blood grooves.
These were not weapons designed to make enemies bleed.
They were built to pin a body to the earth through sheer weight and force.
Elyndra sat upon a folding campaign stool opposite Kroq-Gar.
Her back remained perfectly straight.
Her fingers rested together across her knees.
After a moment, she asked quietly,
“What exactly is Chaos?”
She met his gaze.
“I am not asking about the creatures.”
“Lysandor has already reported the different forms.”
“Chaos Spawn.”
“The corrupted.”
“The warriors.”
“I am asking about Chaos itself.”
“You call it Chaos.”
“Not the Dark Enemy.”
“What does that word actually mean?”
Kroq-Gar answered without hesitation.
“Chaos is not a creature.”
“It is not an army.”
“It is not a kingdom.”
“It has no king.”
“No commander.”
“No capital.”
“It is an energy.”
“A consciousness.”
“Something that has existed since the beginning.”
“It does not belong to this world.”
“But it can enter this world.”
“Your scholars have spent centuries studying what they believed was its appearance.”
“In truth…”
“They have witnessed only a brief period during which it became active again.”
“It has existed far longer than any civilisation capable of recording history.”
Elyndra immediately noticed a single phrase.
Active again.
Not appeared.
That choice of words implied a conclusion she found deeply unsettling.
But she commanded the Southern Front.
Ignoring uncomfortable truths was not an option.
“So…”
“It is not the first time Chaos has invaded this world.”
“No.”
Kroq-Gar’s voice remained calm.
“There once existed a race devoted entirely to Order.”
“Your histories have already forgotten them.”
“They fought Chaos upon this continent.”
“During the height of Chaos’s power…”
“They sealed it beyond the boundary of this world.”
“Then they destroyed the gate.”
“The price was absolute.”
“Everyone who knew the truth died the moment the gate was closed.”
“What your people have witnessed during these past centuries…”
“The twisted creatures.”
“Chaos Warriors.”
“The armies gathering in the north.”
“They are only remnants.”
“They seep through the cracks.”
“The true Chaos still waits beyond the shattered gate.”
“The gate has never been repaired.”
“So the cracks continue to widen.”
Elyndra already understood that if this explanation were written into an intelligence report…
The Elven Council would need an entirely new classification system.
She asked another question.
“Have you ever fought…”
“…the strongest form of Chaos?”
Kroq-Gar’s slit pupils widened completely.
“I have.”
That was all he said.
Elyndra drew a slow breath.
Then asked the question she had wanted answered from the very beginning.
“Why?”
“Why did Chaos come here?”
“Why this world?”
“Because it is hungry.”
Kroq-Gar’s reply came without emotion.
“Chaos is a consciousness sustained by energy.”
“Fear.”
“Desire.”
“Anger.”
“Despair.”
“Every intense surge of emotion feeds it.”
“This world once possessed more concentrated soul energy than countless others.”
“So when Chaos sought new realms to consume…”
“…it chose this one.”
“After the gate was broken…”
“This world became, in Chaos’s eyes…”
“…a meal left unfinished.”
“What you have mistaken for an invasion over the past few centuries…”
“…is merely its digestive fluid seeping through the cracks.”
“The creatures you call the Dark Enemy.”
“The twisted monsters.”
“The Chaos Warriors.”
“They are not Chaos itself.”
“They are only corpses.”
“Creatures rotted after being touched by those droplets.”
“And your northern frontier…”
“The ever-growing armies your scouts keep reporting…”
“They exist because the next drop is about to fall there.”
Kroq-Gar lowered his head slightly.
His slit pupils narrowed.
“Chaos does not distinguish between races.”
“Humans do.”
“Elves do.”
“Dwarves do.”
“Chaos does not.”
“To it…”
“Every living soul is nothing more than food.”
“Your northern defences will not stop it.”
“Not because your armies are too small.”
“But because…”
“You do not yet understand what you are trying to stop.”