The Red Order Rises – The Fall of Dune City
The world already knew their name.
For the past year, whispers of The Red Order had spread like wildfire—stories of a ruthless faction that had done the unthinkable. They weren't just another rogue organization; they were a true power—the only force capable of standing toe-to-toe with the Voyager Association.
They had already conquered a nation.
The Sundermarch, a small but strategically vital country on the edge of Terragigantus, had fallen not through brute force, but through dominance.
Its Seeker presence was wiped out.
Its government overthrown.
Its people forced under a new rule—the rule of Yobokari "The God Hands" Morningstar.
Not by simple fear.
By inevitability.
The Red Order did not merely attack. They assimilated.
And now, Dune City was next.
"The Last Stand of the Seekers"
The city burned under the crimson moon.
What was once a bustling desert hub—a place of trade, culture, and hidden power—was now a battlefield. The Red Order moved through the streets like a slow, creeping tide, unstoppable and deliberate.
The last Seeker outpost—a fortified stronghold built into the cliffs—stood defiant. Two hundred warriors. A mix of Iron, Bronze, and Silver Seekers.
And at the forefront, General Alrik of the Dune Guard.
A seasoned Silver Seeker, his golden sand-woven armor shimmered in the firelight. His Sandstorm Muti raged around him, creating a wall of impenetrable winds, shielding the remaining defenders.
Behind him, his men stood ready to die.
Then, Yobokari arrived.
He did not rush.
He did not need to.
He simply walked.
Dune City trembled beneath his steps.
Behind him, the Red Order advanced.
A woman cloaked in shifting liquid metal, her Ferro-Titan Muti reshaping the sand beneath her feet into jagged blades.
A spectral figure in white robes, his Dream Muti warping reality itself, turning the battlefield into a waking nightmare.
A warrior whose entire form flickered like a mirage, bending space itself with Spatial Muti, stepping between dimensions as if they were mere doorways.
They did not fight.
They executed.
"The Clash"
Alrik roared.
With a gesture, his Sandstorm Muti exploded outward, a wall of cutting winds surging toward Yobokari like a tidal wave.
The moment it hit, a massive explosion shook the battlefield.
For a second—just a second—the defenders thought they had done it.
That Yobokari was dead.
But then—a ripple in space.
And Yobokari stepped forward.
Unscathed.
Untouched.
The sandstorm was gone.
No. Not gone—consumed.
Alrik's eyes widened in horror as he saw the truth—Yobokari's left hand flexing, the remnants of the attack swirling into his palm.
Then, Yobokari spoke.
"The weak always believe their strength will be enough."
He lifted his right hand.
Decay Muti surged.
Dream Muti pulsed.
Echo Muti twisted.
Alrik screamed.
His body shuddered violently, his golden armor blackening, his flesh withering as if decades had passed in mere seconds.
His men watched in absolute terror.
"Your leaders believe their codes will protect them."
He took another step forward, and with it, reality itself seemed to bend.
"Your gods have abandoned you."
The Seeker forces charged.
A desperate, last-ditch assault.
Lightning surged toward Yobokari.
Flames erupted.
Psychic attacks lashed out.
They never reached him.
Yobokari raised a single finger.
And then—silence.
A stillness so absolute it was deafening.
One by one, the attacking Seekers froze.
Their powers vanished.
Their Mutis stolen.
Their own abilities turned against them.
The battlefield collapsed into chaos.
Alrik, barely standing, gasped. "What… are you?"
Yobokari finally smiled.
"The inevitable."
And with that—he moved.
His foot shattered the ground beneath him.
His hand blurred through the air.
His body became an unstoppable force.
Seekers fell like insects.
One by one, warriors who had trained their entire lives—who had dreamed of greatness, of legend—were erased.
As the dust settled, as the last cries of the dying faded, Yobokari stood at the center of what was left of Dune City.
The survivors could only stare.
Then, he spoke.
"Power is not given to the righteous."
"It is taken by those who deserve it."
The wind carried his voice across the ruins, across the trembling remnants of what was once an empire of trade and warriors.
"Your leaders build walls, expecting them to hold. They send men to die, believing sacrifice will make them strong."
His red Viatra Eye gleamed, a monstrous, overwhelming presence.
"I do not kneel."
"I do not bow."
He lifted a single hand—and the air itself trembled.
"The Voyager Association stands in my way."
"They will fall."
"The world believes in the laws of men."
He clenched his fist.
"I will show them the laws of gods."
And with that, The Red Order vanished into the desert.
The world had just witnessed the first of many conquests.
Yobokari was coming.