Last Bastion: Reincarnated Prince of Stormwatch

"To break them, we must bleed where they don't expect. Let them think we're defending gold. We're defending fury."

—Prince Jag, Stormwatch War Council

Location: Eastern Firevault Line, Outskirts of Gold Hollow – Dawn

The eastern ridges near Gold Hollow shook with distant booms.

Stormwatch's firevaults—armored reservoirs of volatile alchemical oil—ran like crimson veins through the cliffs. Below, jagged trenches glowed faintly as oil sluiced through narrow stone channels, guided by metal glyph plates.

Rain crouched behind a Choir command relay, her breath fogging the glass visor of her helm. Around her, Line 3 Infantry were hammering in spike walls and setting trip glyphs.

"How far out are they?" she asked.

A scout dropped beside her, bleeding from his shoulder.

"Three minutes. Hundreds of goblins. Not raiders. Legions."

The scout spat blood. "They're not coming for gold. They're coming to wipe the east flank off the map."

POV Shift – Goblin Syndicate Vanguard, En Route to Stormwatch

From atop a lurching bone carriage, Brigg Twoskull, Warlord of the Syndicate's Eastern Tithes, roared with glee. The open ground ahead reeked of oil and bait.

He raised a gnarled fist. Around him, thousands of goblins surged like rats flooding a tunnel:

The Skulkers, dagger-wielding scouts with chameleon skin.

The Sparkthrowers, alchemical grenadiers strapped with fusebomb belts.

The Crown-Eaters, large-bellied berserkers with spiked chains and broken iron masks.

Brigg's eyes glimmered with hate.

"Rip them apart, boys! Take their vaults, and we own the war!"

Behind him, siege beetles screeched, their leg-mounted cannons spewing smoke.

Scene: Jag Arrives at the Eastern Line

The blast gates opened, and a hush swept over the trenches as Jag stepped into the eastern sector, clad in iron-black armor and a layered crimson cloak.

No horns. No fanfare.

Only soldiers standing straighter.

He spoke with no raised voice, but every man heard.

"This isn't a defense."

"This is a sentence."

"They thought gold would buy our fear."

"We're going to drown them in it."

He turned to Rain. "Are the channels lined?"

"Every last one. One spark and the whole field becomes fire."

Jag stared at the ridgeline.

"Then we give them a field of fire and no sky to scream into."

The First Clash: Trench Front, Eastern Line

BOOM!

The first siege beetle cannon shattered the forward barricade, tossing bodies and timber skyward.

Goblin Skulkers poured in through the gaps, hissing and leaping with curved daggers, their motions erratic and fast.

Private Kell of the trench line twisted his blade low, slicing upward and severing a goblin's wrist—splurt! Another leapt at him, but he ducked, raised his boot, and stomped it into the fire-oil slick.

FOOM! The goblin combusted on impact, screaming as it thrashed in flames.

Nearby, Rain activated a Choir Burst Mine—a pressure plate that sent a cone of force outward. Three Sparkthrowers were blown off their feet, two hitting jagged wall-spikes headfirst.

"Hold trench! Bleed them dry!" Rain roared.

The goblins kept coming.

They swarmed over barricades like ants over corpses.

Scene: Above the Trench – Jag's Command Push

Jag stood at the second-line overlook.

"Ashra. Now."

Ashra, leading a mobile glaive company, shot a flare into the air.

From above, caged flame spirits were released—writhing spheres of glowing heat sealed in crystal. They dropped into the trench edge, smashing open.

BOOM!

Inferno.

The oil channels lit. The earth screamed.

Entire swaths of goblins ignited in sudden rivers of flame—burning in writhing arcs across the trench front. Beetles shrieked as they exploded, acid leaking into burning ditches.

And yet, the Crown-Eaters didn't stop.

They emerged through fire, dragging chains, their skin crackling but unflinching.

One leapt straight into Jag's perch.

Clang—Crash!

Jag pivoted.

The brute swung. Jag ducked low, slamming his shoulder into the beast's stomach and shoving it off balance. With a roar, Jag drew his sword and rammed the tip into the beast's open mouth.

SHUNK!

Blood exploded. The body fell backward, choking on steel.

Jag didn't wait. He grabbed the dropped chain and threw it around another attacker's throat, pulling until the vertebrae cracked.

Cut to: Goblin Rearline – Brigg's Fury

Brigg slammed a fist into the bone table.

"What kind of madmen flood their own land with fire?!"

A scout whispered, "It's a trap, boss. It always was."

Brigg grinned. "Then we show them what traps get in return."

He opened a cage—a corrupted troll, its veins pulsing with black poison, emerged snarling.

"Send the Crownbreakers. And bury the fire with flesh."

Scene: Reinforcements Arrive

On the north approach, Stormwatch cavalry emerged—Drakemount units armed with lancecasters.

The ground shook as they charged, formation tight, their mounts armoured in layered scales. They hit the goblin midline like a hammer.

One rider's lancecaster fired—BOOM!—ripping a Sparkthrower in half.

Another vaulted from his mount and swung a glaive in a high arc, catching two Crown-Eaters across the collarbones—CRACK! Bone splinters flew.

Jag roared into the command horn.

"Now we close the trap!"

Massive plates of Choir-forged steel rose from the outer trenches—forming a wall behind the goblin force.

Brigg saw too late.

"They boxed us in?!"

The walls glowed with glyphs—fuel pumps reversed—the entire battlefield ignited once more.

Climax: Jag Confronts Brigg

Jag leapt down from the command post, boots slamming into gravel as he charged through smoke and corpses.

Brigg met him, swinging twin hooked axes.

Their blades clashed—CLANG!

Brigg snarled, teeth grinding.

"You're just another rat with better clothes!"

Jag twisted under a blow, slashing across Brigg's stomach. The goblin staggered but countered with a headbutt.

Jag reeled, wiped blood from his lip, then feinted left—stabbed low into Brigg's thigh.

"No," Jag said, voice low. "I'm the last prince of the last wall that still stands."

"And you don't get past me."

He slammed his pommel into Brigg's face—once. Twice. On the third strike, Brigg collapsed.

Jag didn't kill him.

He grabbed the goblin's collar and threw him into the fire trench.

Scene: Aftermath

Ashra walked beside Jag as the dead were counted.

"Twelve towers breached. Six destroyed. Over four hundred enemy corpses."

Rain approached. "We held, but not without loss."

Jag wiped soot from his face.

"Then we make the next trench deeper."

Final Scene: A Letter Carried by Flamehawk

The goblins received it days later.

A burned parchment. A single sentence.

Gold cannot buy ground that belongs to the dead.