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As if the turmoil of civil strife and infighting within the realm wasn’t devastating enough, the relentless wrath of nature soon added its own layer of catastrophe, compounding the already dire situation multifold.

The rebels, who had risen to power by brutally murdering the nobles and their king, initially celebrated their hard-fought victory. Yet this triumph was tragically short-lived. They quickly discovered that the noble families had been hoarding resources, and with their demise came the collapse of the food supply that sustained both the nobility and their erstwhile subjects.

It was almost as if fate had intervened in a cruel twist, bestowing a perverse mercy upon the nobles by allowing them to perish swiftly, before the slow, agonizing process of starvation could claim them.

As the rebels took refuge in the opulent houses that had once belonged to their enemies, they hastily dismantled the furniture, ripping apart tables and chairs to feed the fires that barely kept the biting cold at bay. In their desperation, the rebels turned the symbols of their victory into makeshift kindling, consuming the remnants of the lives they had so violently uprooted.

Meanwhile, the Demon Horde, notoriously infamous for their bloodlust and unquenchable thirst for chaos, settled into what they believed would be a calm interlude, expecting the city to remain in a state of uneasy stagnation.

However, Mother Nature, with her unforgiving temperament, had her own designs. Without warning, a bizarre and ferocious blizzard descended upon the city, plunging temperatures to unfathomably low levels. The once vibrant streets were soon blanketed in white, and the howling winds echoed the despair that filled the hearts of those who remained.

The Isolation Barrier, a formidable ability constructed to destroy the magical fields of the humans somehow stood as the last line of defence against nature’s fury. (Oh, the irony of it.) However, even this barrier could not completely shield the city from the extreme cold. As the winds howled and the blizzard raged outside, the cold seeped through barrier, chilling the very bones of the inhabitants.

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The Orc leaders, in a moment of reckless bravado, convened to discuss the fate of the barrier. They unanimously agreed to lower it, convinced that true strength lay in embracing the harsh reality of their surroundings. So as the decision was about to be enforced, the Demon Mages rushed to prepared their own magic spells in order to counter against the brittle cold as well to stay in this blizzard winter until this siege becomes successful. This decision also came as a shock, particularly to the beleaguered humans of Trin, who remained blissfully unaware of the chaos about to be unleashed.

As the barrier fell, the blizzard rushed in with a ferocity that took everyone by surprise. Snow and ice poured through the once-secure gates, swallowing the city in a tempest of white. It was a harbinger of despair that none had anticipated, as the rebels and the remaining human populace grappled with the bitter cold and the consequences of their choices. Now, as the chilling winds whipped through the desolate streets, the unity that the rebels had once felt began to unravel.

With dwindling resources and an unforgiving climate, distrust simmered beneath the surface, threatening to ignite a new wave of conflict. The blizzard, it seemed, was not merely a natural disaster; it was a catalyst for a deeper turmoil that could lead to the very collapse of the rebellion itself.

The icy winds continued howled through the fortress, a chilling reminder of the relentless blizzard that had besieged them for days. Inside the confines of the high walls, the guards huddled together, their bodies trembling from the cold. With every biting gust of wind, they felt the gnawing hunger in their stomachs grow stronger; the freezing temperatures seemed to sap not only their warmth but also their will to fight.

As the frost crept deeper into their bones, they found themselves yearning for any flicker of heat or morsel of food to stave off the emptiness. Little did they know that not all were suffering as they were.

Beyond the walls, the Demon Horde seemed to thrive. To the guards’ bewilderment, they observed the demons camped comfortably within their medium-sized isolation barriers, seemingly oblivious to the blizzard’s wrath. While the guards fought against the cold, the Horde was engaged in a different battle altogether—one of comfort and sustenance.

The transparent barriers glimmered in the dim light, allowing the guards a clear view of their adversaries as they feasted and warmed themselves around fires that flickered with an almost magical glow. The sight was maddening; how could they, the supposed invaders, be better off than the defenders?

The imbalance stirred a wave of envy among the guards. Each crackle of flame and each shared morsel of food echoed in their minds, a haunting reminder of their own deprivation. Meanwhile, the leaders of their realm had been too quick to cast blame on the mages and scholars who had served them for generations.

Pressured by the growing unrest of the surviving citizens, who could not fathom the idea of defeat, the current ruling class had made a dire decision. They succumbed to the fury of the mob—a dangerous mix of desperation and rage—and condemned the very people who had dedicated their lives to the protection of the realm.

As accusations flew through the air like arrows, logic fell victim to chaos. The mages, who had worked tirelessly to defend their city, were now painted as traitors. It was a bitter irony, for the very magic that could have turned the tide had been quelled by the ignorance of those in power.

The guards, witnessing this brutal betrayal, felt an unease settle within them. They were now left to confront the consequences of these rash decisions, facing not only an external enemy but also the wrath of their own leaders. As the days dragged on, the guards watched, both resentful and helpless, as the Demon Horde continued their siege, seemingly unbothered by the elements.

It became evident that the isolation barriers, carefully crafted by the demons’ mages, had provided them with a sanctuary from the biting cold. The guards, weighed down by hunger and despair, could only wait, their fates intertwined with the choices made by those who had underestimated the cunning of their foes.

Without the mages who could wield the fire spells necessary to stave off the cold, the human survivors found themselves stranded in a perilous situation. Each day felt like an eternity as they struggled against the bitter winds, their bodies growing weaker from a lack of food and warmth.

In the heart of the storm, the flickering light of hope dimmed; one by one, the remaining humans curled up together, seeking solace in shared warmth, only for the chilling grip of frostbite to claim their lives. As desperation mounted, some among them chose the ultimate escape, recognising the futility of their predicament. They made the harrowing decision to end their suffering, leaving behind a somber silence that filled the once vibrant halls of their kingdom. It was a grim acceptance of fate, a surrender to the merciless cold that surrounded them.

Days turned into nights, and as the blizzard finally began to relent, a new chapter unfolded. The Demon Rats, cunning and opportunistic, was finally given the order to venture forth to explore the devastation left in the wake of the storm. Their scouts, emboldened by the prospect of finding spoils within the inner gates, searched the place thoroughly when their Demon Mages had confirmed most of the humans would have died.

To their surprise, they discovered a figure sitting regally upon the throne of the deceased king. It was a lone woman, the Star Fox, who had once offered her assistance to the beleaguered humans.

With a playful demeanour, she spun the king’s crown around her finger, an eerie smile gracing her lips as she surveyed the desolation around her. "I thought I would witness some struggle and bloodshed when I showed you the sewer entrance," she remarked, her voice carrying a melodic yet haunting quality. "But instead, it seems the hubris of human nature has led to their own downfall. How utterly entertaining."

The Demon Rat scouts exchanged glances, recognising her as the enigmatic figure they had previously encountered. She was a puzzle wrapped in mystery, and her presence here raised questions. One of the scouts, unable to contain his curiosity, inquired, "But why did your leader not strike the humans when they were vulnerable? Surely overpowering them would have been easier than watching them suffer."

A knowing smile spread across the Star Fox’s face. "Ah, but therein lies the wisdom of the Orcs," she replied, her tone dripping with amusement. "They warned you to handle Foxes with care. We can be both allies and enemies, depending on the tides of fate."

The Demon Rat, taken aback by her insight, nodded slowly, acknowledging the complexity of her nature. In a world fraught with danger and uncertainty, alliances were fragile and often unpredictable. The Star Fox’s ethereal aura began to emanate from her, causing the scouts to instinctively draw their weapons, readying themselves for any potential threat. The atmosphere shifted, charged with tension as the ancient magic of the Star Fox pulsed in the air.

"Relax. I am not going to be your enemy for today." Despite the soothing words, a sense of foreboding lingered in the air. Those who had perished—victims of the relentless cold or brutal combat—began to stir.

Their lifeless bodies, once mere shells, now exuded a strange, dark energy. The magic at work was palpable, a stark reminder of the thin line between life and death. As they rose, each figure donned a unique aura, a reflection of their untimely demise infused with the malevolent power of the Demon Rats.

The Demon Rats, cunning in their designs, watched in stunned silence as the dead transformed before their eyes. The realisation hit them hard: these were not mere casualties but the newly minted soldiers of the Mong Empires. The Southern Kingdom was about to face an onslaught unlike any it had seen before, with the undead now serving as harbingers of doom, spreading fear and chaos.

"I will spread the zombies around the city of Trin so that no one would come near here without much consequence. They will also be acting as lookouts so that you guys do not need to return here just to eliminate any lurkers," announced the Star Fox, a figure whose presence commanded both respect and trepidation.

With a flick of her tail, the creature orchestrated the rise of the undead, sending waves of dread through the ranks of the living. The System, an omnipotent entity overseeing the battlefield, swiftly relayed this unsettling development to the Orc Leaders, who sat in their war chambers pretending to strategise their next moves.

As the news spread, the Demon Rat scouts then received their orders: a withdrawal signal echoed in their minds, compelling them to retreat northward. Their mission had shifted from simply eradicating humans to a more strategic endeavour—one that involved ensuring the city of Trin was devoid of any human presence.

The plan was meticulous, designed to synchronize the actions of this particular Demon horde with the larger movement of their brethren. The urgency of the situation was palpable. The Demon Rats had to move quickly, ensuring every corner of Trin was swept clean of humanity.

The streets, once vibrant and filled with life, now stood on the brink of becoming a desolate battleground. Reports of the undead roaming freely would soon become a grim reality, an ever-watchful eye observing the city’s every move.

The spectre of the undead was upon the city, and the reality of Southern Kingdoms’ situation became starkly clear: the fight for survival had escalated from a mere battle to an all-out war against forces hell-bent on erasing them from existence.

It seems like Ress would not be rescuing the majority of the Southern Kingdom Alliance.

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