Written by K.T., inspired by tales recounted by Korovin, leader of the Bastion

After Scarlet departed from Bastion, leaving Korovin to his own plans, he commenced his thorough preparations. His objectives were crystal clear: to forge an army enhanced by otherworldly powers, potent enough to vanquish gods. Theoretically, he had all the necessary resources at his disposal – warriors, an isolated training ground, and the key to their power, Anthalon, the Arkhon whom Scarlet had incarcerated within the elder Korovin’s body. Korovin initially prioritized establishing the requisite infrastructure, approaching individuals from nearby communities within the swamp-surrounded Bastion to join their ranks. Yet, merely possessing warriors was insufficient; the presence of farmers, artisans, blacksmiths, and representatives of various other professions was equally vital. To facilitate this, Korovin orchestrated the relocation of numerous individuals, establishing new villages near essential resources and closer to the continent’s periphery and the Marble Sea, thereby providing them with protection from the Roseborne Empire and a degree of concealment.

By the year EoC 200, Bastion had evolved into a fully developed territory, revered by its inhabitants for the protection it afforded them. Korovin and his cadre were no ordinary soldiers anymore but formidable blood knights endowed with supernatural strength, capable of recovering from severe injuries in mere moments. Periodically, Lord Korovin would visit the sealed Anthalon to draw and consume his blood, which, after filtering through his own system, he would share with his elite soldiers. These elites would then internalize Anthalon’s power before passing it down to their own ranks. As time advanced, and the blood knights remained immune to natural death, each grew more and more powerful and formidable.

To govern his increasingly potent and unruly army, Lord Korovin implemented strict and uncompromising knightly customs that echoed the legacy of the old Korovins of Kolosvar. These traditions – honor, truth, duels, and strength – defined the lives and routines of the blood knights. Their discipline was further enforced by relentless patrols within Bastion’s territory and dangerous raids into areas plagued by fallens and other monstrous entities. This rigorous training helped the knights channel their escalating aggression for a time, which was exacerbated by the blood of the Arkhon, Anthalon. Should a knight fall in battle, it was seen as a testament to their unworthiness, swiftly replaced by a more formidable successor.

Korovin’s anticipation for a sign from Scarlet, however, grew into despair as no word came, and Scarlet herself became absent. Doubts crept in about their mission. Without Scarlet’s direction, Korovin’s purpose and determination began to falter, and the strain neared a breaking point. The blood knights, inflamed by Anthalon’s blood, turned increasingly volatile, leading to rampant violence and unjustified deaths. Korovin struggled under the influence of the Arkhon, whose whispers of greater power with each visit gnawed at his resolve. Feeling utterly betrayed by Scarlet, who had left them to their fate, Korovin was consumed by rage and disillusionment.

In desperation, Korovin struck a dire pact with Anthalon. This questionable exchange involved placing himself and his knights into hibernation using a power bestowed by the Arkhon, in return for the souls of six chosen comrades – a harrowing but deemed necessary sacrifice to preserve their lives until Scarlet’s eventual call to arms.

Korovin’s eyes peeled open slowly, each movement a torment, as though his very skin were being rent apart. With every shift, his muscles groaned and his bones emitted a chorus of cracks, sending waves of agony rippling through his body. Yet beneath this physical suffering, his mind, which had lain in a dormant vigil awaiting Scarlet’s call within the Arkhon’s crypt, surged with a triumphant fervor. It was a resurrection that only his master could orchestrate. Indeed, the awaited time had arrived.
Surveying his surroundings with senses sharpened beyond mortal ken, Korovin pierced the oppressive darkness that shrouded him. He still resided within the confines of his hibernation chamber. Summoning the remnants of his strength, he thrust the chamber door outward – a massive slab of stone, once crimson but now blackened with runes – sending it crashing into the abyss with a resonant boom. As he gazed out, he stood elevated within the grand chamber constructed by Scarlet, designed as a prison for the Arkhon. The chamber was encircled by similar cells, each a cold repository for his fellow blood knights, though all remained sealed.
Korovin stepped from his resting place only to plummet, landing atop the fallen door after a descent of over ten meters. Struggling to his feet proved futile initially. Time’s passage during his slumber was unknown, yet it had clearly sapped much of his vigor. His body, sustained by the combined force of the arkhé and the Arkhon, crumpled under the impact, his skin tearing at the stress points. Yet, as he finally rose and lifted his hands, he witnessed his flesh knitting itself whole once more. Straightening, he took in the full expanse of his surroundings.
The circular chamber was lined with the hibernation cells of blood knights, its floor and ceiling crafted from contiguous black irnati stone that amplified the potency of Scarlet’s runes. As Korovin searched for his master, a different figure emerged from behind one of the sprawling chamber’s columns. Anthalon, now not only inheriting but completely transforming his father’s body, loomed above with a stature of three meters. Time had seemingly allowed him escape from his bindings, yet he remained confined within the chamber. A smirk crossed Korovin’s face at this revelation.
“I see you’re pleased to encounter me, little human warrior,” Anthalon intoned, his voice resonating perfectly, his otherworldly, symmetrical face betraying no movement of his lips. The sound filled Korovin’s senses entirely.
“I anticipated something else,” Korovin spat the words sideways with disdain.
“You might wish to see another, human, but you truly need me.” replied the Arkhon, his mouth curling into a subtle, barely perceptible smile. “You and I, we are indispensable to each other.”
“My desire to deal with you again is scant, Arkhon,” Korovin muttered, his expression twisting with revulsion.
“My strength wanes on this physical plane.” Anthalon confessed, turning to slowly walk back to his centrally anchored throne, past the strewn, rune-carved chains that once restrained him. “I require Pure Arkhé from the Arkhtides.”
“What concern is that of mine? If you perish, the world would indeed be better off.” Korovin retorted sharply.
“You forget, human, that should I expire, those within this chamber will no longer partake of my blood, and all will perish. Your master’s war will then falter.” Anthalon’s voice remained calm, yet bore an ominous gravity. “Awaken your brethren, knight. The time has come to further augment your strength for the war ahead…”