The forty-sixth dusk bled crimson over Kael El's western plains, a violet-gold sky devoured by ash as the battlefield—350 km from his major city—groaned under the weight of war's end. The 5,406-square-kilometer empire stood unbowed, its eighteen territories—forest, plains, mesa, desert, swamp, jungle, tundra, crypt, molten wastes, and steel flats—scarred but victorious. The city's 110 buildings glowed with Mist Core light, 1,768,000 subjects roaring as 1.45 million warriors claimed the field—150,000 of Dorn's 300,000 lay dead, ash heaped in mounds. Kael faced Dorn at the storm's core, the Stormforged Blade dripping blood, EX: Dragonflame Reaver a fading ember, Stormhide Armor fractured but proud. His flirty smirk cut through the haze, a cool dominance radiating as he flexed EX: Crimson Overlord, shadows coiling—Dorn's scythe faltered, and Kael burned to finish it.