As the sun neared its descent.
Casting a golden radiance across the Blessed Plains, the entire expanse shimmered with celestial splendor.
Jarius, honoring his pledge, led a retinue of elite guards toward the encampment of the Goblin King Amigel.
Their path wound through the disciplined and orderly camps of the goblin legions, each site a testament to precision and martial rigor.
Every goblin soldier stood tall, chest puffed with pride, their eyes gleaming with the fire of seasoned warriors.
At the dawn of their empire, such elite forces heralded the goblins' dominion over the continent for an epoch.
Navigating deeper through layers of fortified goblin checkpoints, Jarius arrived at an immense circular tent.
A colossal structure dominating the heart of the goblin encampment.
Its pristine white fabric gleamed like a cloud adrift in a verdant sky.
Flanking its entrance stood two rows of towering goblin soldiers, adorned with feathered helms, yellow cloaks billowing, and armed with spears, swords, and unyielding resolve.
These were the Yellow Cloak Guards, Amigel's most formidable personal retinue.
Each a transcendent warrior.
To pass through their ranks was to traverse a forest of steel, chilling and awe-inspiring.
Upon entering the grand tent, Jarius found many tribal leaders already assembled.
The Goblin King, recognizing the might of the Winged Legion, accorded Jarius profound respect.
Seating him third from the head, surpassed only by the Troll and Dwarf leaders, and elevated above the Centaur Grand Chieftain.
Even in ancient courts, the supremacy of air forces over cavalry was undisputed.
Amigel himself escorted Jarius to his seat, granting the winged commander his first true encounter with the legendary emperor of the goblin race.
In Jarius's recollection—and as chronicled in the fragmented annals of the elves during the Fifth Epoch.
Amigel was born at the twilight of the Titan and Dragon Age, hailing from the mightiest goblin tribe in Felander.
Endowed with unparalleled talent, he ascended to legendary status in a mere century, in an era when transcendent systems were rudimentary. From the shackles of Titan enslavement, he led the goblins to the throne of world hegemony, reigning as the Supreme King who shaped the Second Epoch of Felander's timeline.
Legends spoke of Amigel's unmatched prowess. That he could subdue the other two goblin legends—the Great Sage and the High Priest—and unify the disparate goblin tribes across the continent bespoke a strength and cunning far beyond the ordinary.
Yet what captivated Jarius most was the radiant, immaculate white spear clutched in Amigel's hand: the Spear of Amigel.
Forged from rare continental ores through an arcane and mysterious craft, this divine artifact was the culmination of the goblin race's collective might.
A god-slaying weapon, it was with this spear that Amigel felled a Titan giant.
Yet, it was also a cursed weapon.
In the goblin empire's future.
This very spear would claim the lives of Amigel and several subsequent emperors.
But such fates lay in the distant horizon.
For now.
Jarius gazed upon the Goblin King, enthroned at the head of the assembly.
Though diminutive compared to other sapient races, Amigel, at roughly five hundred years—his prime, given the millennium-long lifespan of legendary beings.
Exuded an aura of overwhelming authority.
Even Jarius, confident in his own destined ascent to legend, felt a stirring of admiration.
Titans and Primordial Dragons had ruled Felander for eons, yet only Amigel dared to defy them—and triumphed.
As time passed.
And the leaders of the Blessed Plains' myriad tribes gathered, Amigel rose to address the assembly.
His voice, resonant and commanding, carried an irresistible charisma.
"Esteemed leaders and tribal kings," he began, "I extend my deepest gratitude for your resolve to unite your peoples with mine in defiance of the accursed Titans' tyranny. Recall the days when our ancestors were first enslaved by those giants—condemned, generation after generation, to servitude."
"Like my kin, I know all here are races that yearn for freedom."
"None among us would willingly remain a slave forever. Thus, we rise in rebellion!"
Seated below, Jarius listened intently.
Though inwardly he rolled his eyes.
The true catalyst was the War of Titans and Dragons, which left both powers grievously weakened, paving the way for the goblins' ascent.
Had Jarius commanded the goblins' might.
Such words would have been his to proclaim.
At the head.
Amigel's speech grew fervent.
"Today, I, Amigel, convene this alliance upon the Blessed Plains. I propose a blood oath: let the goblin race and all present forge an eternal bond as brotherly kin!"
With that, he took a goblet of wine from an attendant, sliced his palm with a dagger, and let a drop of blood fall, staining the liquid crimson.
He turned to the assembled leaders, some visibly startled.
A line of goblin attendants promptly distributed goblets to each chieftain.
Jarius, following suit, cut his palm and let his blood mingle with the wine.
All while inwardly scoffing.
Such a ritual, unprecedented in Felander, was Amigel's innovation, setting the precedent for blood-sworn alliances.
Seeing all comply, Amigel's spirit soared.
"To our bond!"
he roared, draining his goblet.
The hundreds of leaders followed.
Emptying their cups.
Amigel's laughter rang out.
"By this blood oath, we are brothers! When the Titans fall, we shall divide the continent together!"
"Splendid!"
Cried the crowd.
"Amigel!"
They chanted, swept up in his fervor.
In this era of unspoiled sincerity, the peoples of Felander had never witnessed such a display.
The assembly erupted in cheers, their spirits ignited.
Thus.
The alliance was sealed, marking the first step in Amigel's crusade against the Titans.
The second step.
Strategy.
Though tactics in this age were straightforward:
Air against air, ground against ground, a relentless charge to victory.
Jarius's task was to counter the Titans' aerial forces.
eagle warriors, griffins, and horned eagles.
Should transcendent fliers emerge, Amigel pledged the support of the goblin Wind Knights.
The assignments were simple, but with countless tribes to coordinate.
The council stretched into the afternoon of the second day.
By the third.
Amigel ascended the highest hill of the Blessed Plains, delivering another impassioned oration decrying the Titans' tyranny and rallying the tribes to war. The million-strong army of diverse races roared in response.
None louder than the Minotaurs, their eyes blazing as they brandished stone axes and tree trunks.
In this fervor.
The grand army marched forth, their sights set on the Titan Court: Proadas.