Mydei

Kremnos, the mist-shrouded city of chaos and war! Its royal lineage is tainted with patricide, and its god bears the name of calamity. The undying Mydeimos, the lion apart from the rest. Chrysos Heir who seeks the Coreflame of Strife, must suffer a thousand deaths, be bathed in blood on the path home, and bear the madness of fate alone. — Kingslayer be king, godslayer be god. Iron-hooves pound across the wilderness for the campaign, and must eventually soak in the blood of their homeland.

"In the ancient legends of the coastal city-states, the Sea of Souls is said to have birthed beings as mighty as gods. Fishermen speak of a king of the seas who appears among the waves as a young child, with a fierce countenance and bluish lips, bathing in the bone-chilling waters of the Sea of Souls, wrestling with its savage beasts, thirsting for blood, and devouring flesh and bone. It is said that each time they sink to the seabed, they soon resurrect from the Sea of Souls. Over approximately nine years, they reforged themselves no less than ten thousand times, ultimately tearing apart a giant monster, staining the sea red for miles, yet no flesh-eating sea creature dared approach. Legends speak of how that the king of the seas could sweep countless fish and shrimp onto the shore with a flick of the tail. Once, shipwrecked fishermen praying for salvation were rescued by the king alongside his crew. As the tales grew more fantastical over time, fishermen started painting the king on their boats, in the hope it will grant them safe voyages. Rumors have emerged claiming that this so-called king of the seas is the vengeful spirit of the crown prince Mydeimos. Terrified by the prophecy he carried, his father, the former king, cast him into the Sea of Souls at birth. His life cut short, the child died with his grievances unredressed, vowing to scour the Sea of Souls. However, the writer believes this is merely the cunning Kremnoans trying to glorify themselves, for three reasons: First, though the Kremnoans traditionally engage in father-son struggles where the victor becomes king, why would they throw a newborn crown prince into the sea? Second, even if King Eurypon of Kremnos, grown old and senile, believed the prophecy and sacrificed his heir to the sea, how could an infant possess the divine strength to battle giant monsters? Third, even if such a child existed, he could hardly be Kremnoan. Why would a Kremnoan, known for their selfish and brutal nature as they are, assist fishermen struck by disaster? Dear readers, I will now reveal the truth: the so-called king of the seas — Naturally, he is the embodiment of the ocean itself!" — Excerpt from "Inquiry into the Legend of the Mighty Sea King" archived in the Gibranipar Library collection "Strong." — A man's handwriting

"The lone army emits a strong scent of blood, like a blood-stained spear. The leading warrior, the speartip, is always enveloped in unfathomable rage and hatred, thrusting towards the enemy. From Ladon, through Aidonia, to Aenionus, he returned from death time and again, leaving towering infernos of war in his wake. In the infamous Battle of Aenionus, the undefeated Klytius raised his massive axe as thousands of arrows darkened the sky behind him. Yet, when the smoke cleared and fire rose from the blood-soaked ground, the warrior's fist struck like a spear, tearing open Klytius's throat. After that epic battle, the true identity of the warrior became yet more elusive. That army clearly bore the marks of Kremnoan training but had never flown Kremnos's flag. None know whether they are Kremnoan spirits wandering on the battlefield or lost souls who have long been away from their homeland. Wandering bards turned the lone army's journey into mournful songs, while in the rust-flavored winds of Amphoreus, the lone lion led a group of old and weak soldiers as they wandered, searching for a nonexistent homeland. Reality will never alter its face due to cruelty. The once-elite citizens of Kremnos who followed him were loyal but mortal, lacking his god-like immortality. As time wore on, and even the gods of Kremnos succumbed to madness, how could humanity hope to know whither they should go? Will that proud, lonely man carry the weight of his people's fate alone? Will he bind himself to the chains of kingship? Or was it all just his wishful thinking..." — Excerpt from "A History of the Wars of Amphoreus" archived in the Gibranipar Library collection "Hephaestion, Perdikkas, Leonnius, Ptolemy, Peucesta... your names will not be forgotten by history." — A man's handwriting

"Mydeimos! You treacherous ingrate, you coward who has forsaken the spirit of Kremnos! You slew the former king and had your vengeance, yet you shirked the duty of restoring the dynasty. Was your honor swallowed whole by the beasts of the Sea of Souls? You roam among those who chase flames, swayed by the wild tales of a witch, fraternizing with low-born soldiers. You choose to pin your hopes on elusive oracles rather than trust in your strength! The Kremnoans yearn to return to their war-torn homeland, yet you urge us to settle in the city-state of our sworn enemies. Have you grown enamored with the opulence of Okhema, or are you already bewitched by the mists rising from its golden baths? Mydeimos! You, with your noble and immortal essence, how can you submit to that woman of Okhema? You are a predator, a messenger of Strife — have you lost sight of the difference between predator and prey? Rumors swirl that you saved outlanders from Nikador's kin alongside the one claiming the mantle of Chrysos Heirs. In that endless Long Night, you let your body shatter, drenched in blood and madness. Mydeimos! Your noble blood should not be wasted on such unworthy individuals! You should be rallying your armies and plundering resources to carve out a path for Kremnos's survival in these apocalyptic times! That supposed Flame-Chase Journey has distorted you beyond recognition, my king! A king requires no equals, no allies, no doubts, no rescue — if any semblance of your clear mind lingers, command us! Let Kremnos's glory eclipse all other city-states!" — Excerpt from "Collected Resolutions of the Kremnos Council of Elders" stored in the Gibranipar Library collection "Keep moving." — A man's directive

"The holy city of Okhema remains one of the last pure lands untouched by the black tide. Yet, the encirclement of the black tide around it has become unmistakably clear. For a thousand years, wherever the black tide has swept, life has been twisted into inhuman monstrosities, and city-states have been eroded by the wind into desolate ruins. Even a stronghold like Kremnos saw its gods tainted by the black tide, leaving nothing but wastelands in its wake. Most of the Coreflames had been restored, yet as the black tide approached, we found ourselves desperately short on time. All we have achieved will have been in vain should Okhema fall before the Era Nova. The author boldly speculated that, soon, the heroes chasing the flame would inevitably face a decisive battle against the black tide. Historical records showed that even the most valiant warriors could not endure long within the black tide. Among the Chrysos Heir heroes, if there was any hope for this battle, it would either rest upon the fearless Phainon or fall to Mydeimos. This wasn't merely because Mydeimos hailed as the bravest in this world, carried a destiny that defied death, nor was it solely because the old city of Kremnos occupied a strategic choke point against the black tide. Even though Mydeimos, like the lion of Kremnos, had migrated countless times in his life and ultimately settled far from his birthplace, the solitary king would never submit to foreign rule. Once he had settled his people, Mydeimos, who regarded his mission as his very essence, would undoubtedly return home. Yet, this time, he bore not only the hopes of the Kremnoans but also the future of the entire world. Talanton's priests once prophesied that the millennium of Strife that started in Kremnos would also find its end there. Perhaps, one day, that eternal figure will face the black tide — suspended between life and death. Imagine such a scene, such a profound tragedy..." — Excerpt from "Flame-Chasing Observations: Black Tide Special Report" archived in the Gibranipar Library collection "As with the Sea of Souls, as it has always been." — A recently-made annotation in a man's handwriting

I am the crown prince of Kremnos "Mydeimos," and also the warrior of Okhema "Mydei." If you want to know me better, observe me in battle or fight me yourself.

Mhm.

Alright, goodbye.

My earliest memory is of fighting the darkness in the Abyss. This was because the former king of Kremnos, under the guise of prophecy, threw me into the Sea of Souls as a sacrifice to the Titans. But after nine winters, this body of mine crawled out of the Sea... Even the Reaper themself had abandoned it.

In the past, I never would've thought that I'd join forces with the enemy nations of Kremnos and wage war across the land. Okhema is a prosperous city-state, but... it cannot be a home for everyone.

Tell the future generations that I shall keep my promise, guarding Kremnos until I spill my last drop of blood. Watch closely. It won't be the black tide that devours me. I shall be the one who crushes it.

Spears and swords forged in flames also wear down with the corrosion of time. On the battlefield, the only thing I can rely on is this undying body.

A strong body and a healthy mind both rely on proper nutrition. Knowing how to handle ingredients and cook properly is a lesson every warrior must learn.

Whenever I drink honey brew with my people, I am drinking in our homeland and our bright red memories. But if you add a little cheese... your body will be healthier.

Castrum Kremnos and Okhema have long been at odds. A spear can pierce the enemy king, but it cannot resolve the deep grudges of the people.

At the Kremnos Festival, regardless of birth, the victor is granted the right to challenge the king. The former king used this rule to kill my grandfather and seize power, but he ultimately fell because of it. A pitiful cycle...

There is a legend in Kremnos's history of three hundred warriors standing alone against the black tide. Today, they may have fallen or been corrupted, but as long as one person remains, they will not forget that true death is not "death" itself, but abandoning one's honor.

We gathered together under Aglaea's direction, not because of her cunning, but because there's a blazing fire in her cold eyes that is destined to ignite.

The prophecy brought by Lady Tribios is not so much fate as it is a form of hope. In this fractured era, believe in your own choices, and then give it your all.

I've fought him several times, battling for dozens of days and nights without a clear victor. I know the strength of this man, and because of that, he is worthy to have my back.

The Death Servant of Aidonia... she is destined to carry the Coreflame of Thanatos. I hope that at the end of the black tide, on the other side of the warm west wind, is also a sea of flowers.

I will use humanity's wrath to strip gods of their authority.

This journey is forged with blood and flames.

Strife will not cease with victory.

Each pattern is a mark of blood from the past.

Cry out, for victory will come.

Stay back — I alone am enough.

Witness with your own eyes what it means to have "a power to rival all lands"!

Weakling... use all your might!

Let's see who remains in the end.

Come on, show me your courage.

Spare no effort, let this place witness glory!

Move already! Don't let our fervor die.

Covered in flaws!

Burn it all!

Forever doomed!

Fury upon you!

Conquer all lands!

So feeble.

How noisy!

Dying soul, face me!

I allow you to accept your punishment!

Blood of Kremnos, stream forth!

Hear my roar. I am Strife!

It's... over...

Hmph, death refuses me.

I can't die, but... thanks.

Submit, or die!

The winds of battle never cease.

You may have it. Consider it your reward.

Take it, and buy some new armor for your tribe.

Hmm... Not bad, I'll accept it.

There is no word for "cower" in the Kremnoan language.

Problems are solved by taking action — that's the most basic principle.

Alright, I'll give you the honor of dying in battle.

The wild wind carries with it the scent of rust...