had until recently unfolded at the walls, surged into the streets of the Fortress with relentless force. Now there were no clear front lines; battles were fought for every house, for every alleyway. This was a fight in the very heart of darkness, the final battle for the world.
The hordes of light, like predatory beasts, surged forward, showing no mercy. The Emperor on his griffin, like a god of war, led them in the attack, his sword burning demons and witches like a fiery scourge. Elves and orcs, united in their hatred of darkness, crushed the resistance of dwarfs and giants. The sea-faring humans, with their long blades, desperately cut down summoned creatures in the narrow alleyways. Eagles, having no other targets, hurled themselves upon the Black Dragon.
Despite the fierce resistance, the forces of darkness gradually retreated, pushed back towards the center of the city, towards their last stronghold – the Castle of Darkness. This was a grim, cyclopean castle, built of black stone, as if grown from the abyss itself. It loomed over the city like an ominous beacon, a reminder of the former power of the dark forces.
Gradually, retreating in combat, the last defenders of the city – witches, demons, dwarfs, and a few remaining giants – began to filter into the narrow passages leading to the castle. Their faces were covered with soot and blood, their eyes burned with despair, but their movements were marked by determination. They covered the retreat of civilians – all those who could not fight: women, the elderly, and children. For the dark forces were not caricatured villains; they had families. Not every one of them was a warrior. Their city had been living its everyday life until the attack of the light forces.
The Emperor of Light, noticing the retreat, ordered an intensification of the assault, hoping to finally break the resistance of the dark forces. However, the warriors of light encountered fierce, almost suicidal resistance from the last defenders, who fought even knowing that inevitable death awaited them.
When the last of the retreating dark forces crossed the threshold of the castle, the massive gates slammed shut with a thunderous crash. The defenders, realizing that there was no turning back, began to barricade them from the inside, sealing their own doom. The Emperor, in anger and fury, ordered the castle to be stormed, but he understood that this would be a long and bloody battle.
Imperial scouts reported that civilians, under the cover of the retreating troops, were withdrawing through a sprawling system of tunnels beneath the city. This was an ancient route that led to the mountains and further into the dark lands, a route that the defenders of the city had decided to use in their final hour.
Locked within the castle, the last defenders of the Fortress of Darkness, knowing that they were doomed, prepared to put up a desperate fight to buy time for their fellow citizens. Their sacrifice would be paid with their lives, but they knew that this was the only way to save even a few of their people.
And in this cacophony of battle, where the cries of the wounded mingled with the clash of metal, the roar of the dragon, the echoes of battles in the streets, and the thunder of blows against the sealed castle gates, where the air reeked of gunpowder, blood, and magic, a figure appeared against the backdrop of the raging battle, at the center of the last bastion of resistance, on the wall of the Castle of Darkness. Tall, clad in black armor, with a helmet crowned with horns, and a face contorted with fury and scorn. It was the Dark Lord, Grimnir, the last of the mighty rulers of the dark realm. In his hand, he held an ancient staff, from which streamed dark, dense energy.
Suddenly, on his griffin, the Emperor of Light hovered right before the walls of the castle. This was not merely an NPC, but one of the most experienced and powerful players, whose name resounded throughout all the virtual reality worlds created by the “Dream” corporation.
Alex, reining in his griffin, lowered his flaming sword. And his voice, amplified by magic, thundered across the battlefield, drowning out even the noise of the fight:
“Grimnir! I demand that you cease this pointless resistance! Surrender the Book of Fate and yield! Your army is broken, your city has fallen!”
Grimnir laughed, a bitter, piercing laugh that echoed through the surrounding streets, smoky and scorched by the flames of battle.
“Alex, you still understand nothing! This world is built on the law of equilibrium, and neither side can achieve a final victory!” he snarled, his voice full of hatred and contempt. “You think you can command me? You and your pathetic allies are merely virtual ghosts, puppets in the hands of a corporation that craves to possess the Book! It will never be yours! The blood of my warriors will stain these stones, but the Book will remain untouched!”
“You know that this is futile,” Alex replied calmly, his gaze firm and unwavering. “Your forces are broken; you are doomed. Besides, you do not understand the danger that the Book represents in your hands. No single person can wield such power; it is a temptation that cannot be resisted. Surrender it to me, and transfer your shares to the board of directors, and I guarantee you and the remnants of your army the opportunity to retreat, a safe passage through our ranks.”
Grimnir abruptly brandished the staff, made from the bone of an ancient dragon, and black tentacles burst from the ground, like living, writhing snakes, trying to seize the griffin and throw its rider from its back.
“Your promises are lies, woven from hypocrisy, much like the adherence of your motley army to the true ideals of the warriors of light!” Grimnir spat out. “The blood of the dark forces will be spilled to the last drop, defending this city, but I will not give you the Book of Fate! May it rather burn in the flames, be reduced to ashes and dust, than fall into your hands!”
The griffin roared, flapping its wings powerfully, evading the attack of the dark tentacles. Alex, never taking his eyes off Grimnir, raised his sword, enveloped in radiant flames:
“Then you leave yourself no choice but defeat. And you know it perfectly well, Grimnir. Your pride has blinded you, and you cannot see the obvious.”
“In every defeat lies the seed of future victory!” Grimnir roared, his eyes burning with a wild fire. “And even if I fall, darkness will rise again!”
A tense silence fell, like the calm before a storm. Alex and Grimnir stood facing each other, embodying the eternal struggle between light and darkness, good and evil, upon which hinged the fate not only of the virtual world but also, perhaps, of all reality dependent on the balance of power in DREAM WORLD. The wind howled, whipping capes and banners, and the approach of an imminent resolution could be felt in the air.
Grimnir, brandishing his staff, created a fiery barrier, soaring into the sky as a wall of flame, cutting him off from the army of light, and with a wild cry, full of despair and madness, he plunged into the depths of the castle. Alex, with a heavy sigh, realized that further negotiations were pointless, merely a waste of time that could cost his warriors their lives. He signaled his troops by raising his sword above his head, and the storming of the castle began anew, with a ferocity never seen before. The gates, reinforced with magic and steel, were smashed open by mighty battering rams, and the army of light surged inside, like an enraged river.
Despite the fierce resistance, the forces of light, led by the dismounted Emperor, banishing darkness with his flaming sword, relentlessly advanced, capturing one hall after another. Every inch of territory had to be won in battle, spilling blood and sweat. The last defenders of the Fortress of Darkness fought like possessed men, under the influence of dark forces and the power of Grimnir, but their ranks dwindled before their eyes, like snow under a scorching sun. Every step was taken with difficulty, every swing of the sword brought wounds and pain, but they did not surrender, willing to give their lives for their lord and his ideals.
With screams and curses, they retreated ever deeper into the labyrinthine corridors of the castle – a maze of stone and darkness – until, finally, they reached its very heart: an ancient temple, built even before the creation