POV: MARY – JUNGLE OF THE AMAZON

Mary’s arms strained against the enchanted manacles binding her wrists. The room was dim—stone walls, glowing magical runes on the floor, and the scent of damp earth and blood. Her golden armor was gone, replaced with a linen tunic soaked in sweat and dirt. Specter agents had brought her here under the pretense of diplomacy—now, she saw the truth.

She had been betrayed.

Princess Dyana had struck a secret deal with Specter’s leadership. A quiet exchange: in return for Specter’s silence on an internal rebellion brewing within their ranks, they would deliver Mary—alive.

A bargaining chip.

“You thought you were in control,” sneered one of the agents, pacing around her like a vulture. “But this continent never belonged to the Elves. It belongs to the shadows.”

Mary said nothing. Her sharp eyes followed his every move.

She was alone. For now.

But even a cornered wolf is dangerous.

When the guard made the mistake of leaning too close, Mary moved like lightning. Her forehead smashed into his nose—cartilage cracked, blood sprayed. She caught the falling man’s dagger with her manacled hands and twisted free, slashing upward with such brutal precision that another Specter operative fell before he could raise an alarm.

Then she ran.

Magic surged through her blood like fire. Though weakened by confinement, she called upon the ancient Solar Flame, her golden aura blazing to life as she burst through a wall with raw power. Alarms echoed across the jungle base.

She moved like a ghost through the compound, dodging bullets and tearing through enemies in a storm of fire and light. Her remaining Royal Knights, thought to be dead or captured, emerged from hiding, summoned by the signal flare she’d ignited above the treeline.

“This was a trap,” Mary growled to her second-in-command as they reunited. “We were never meant to win the Amazon. The humans fed us into their web—and Dyana helped spin it.”

The time for conquest was over.

It was time to regroup and survive.

Mary gave the retreat order. Her forces disappeared into the mist, vanishing deeper into the rainforest toward the arcane sigils that would teleport them back to the Elven Island in the South Pacific.

Thus ended the Elven campaign in South America.

POV: SQUADRON LEADER SATVIK SINGH – BATTLE OVER MALDIVES

The Indian Ocean was ablaze.

Satvik Singh, commander of the IAF’s elite Falcon Squadron, adjusted his HUD as his Su-30MKI screamed across the sky. All around him, the dogfight raged—Elven Sky Serpents diving through clouds, their riders hurling magical spears that exploded with lunar light, while American F-22 Raptors danced between spells and shrapnel.

“They’re coming in from high altitude—bearing two-seven-zero,” crackled a voice on the comms.

“I see them,” Satvik muttered. “Falcon-3, climb and intercept. Falcon-6, flank left with the Raptors.”

Missiles screamed. The combined US-Indian air fleet was coordinating like a well-oiled machine. They’d learned from the earlier skirmishes—timing their missile volleys between serpent dodges, working in tight, multi-national formations.

And it was working.

A Sky Serpent exploded into a spray of purple ichor as two Raptors locked it in a pincer maneuver. Satvik banked hard left and fired his BrahMos-NG missile, which pierced through the magical ward of a passing Elven airship and ignited it from within.

“Target down,” he whispered.

Then, came the call.

“Sir—Elven forces are retreating! They're pulling back from the Maldives!”

Satvik blinked. It was true. The once-unbreakable Elven formation was fracturing.

High in the sky, the majestic Sky Serpents began falling back, weaving away from missiles and anti-air fire. Their formation broke off into long, graceful arcs—a tactical withdrawal.

But why?

“We didn’t break them,” Satvik murmured, narrowing his eyes. “They’re leaving on their own terms...”

He didn’t know it yet, but the Elves attacking the Maldives were part of Mary’s now-retreating faction—pulling back under her direct orders.

The reason behind their retreat remained a mystery to the human forces.

For now.

POV: PRINCESS DYANA – PORT CITY OF TOAMASINA, MADAGASCAR

The wind blew strands of silver hair across Dyana’s face as she stepped onto the scorched dock of Toamasina, her boots echoing against blood-streaked wood. Her fleet had arrived too late to assist Mary, but early enough to witness the retreat of panicked humans fleeing the island.

Madagascar now flew the Royal Banner of Forestia.

Still, Dyana frowned.

“This was not the plan,” she muttered to her aide. “Mary was supposed to succeed in the west. Why is she retreating?”

“She was betrayed,” the aide replied. “By Specter.”

Dyana’s heart twisted—but not with guilt. With calculation.

Then she saw them: refugee boats, overloaded with civilians—men, women, children—screaming, crying, desperate.

She turned her back on them.

“Let them flee. We’ll find them again on the mainland.”

POV: CIVILIAN – FLEEING FROM MADAGASCAR

Sita clutched her daughter tighter as the wooden boat bounced against the waves. The burning skyline of Madagascar vanished behind smoke and flame. All around her were dozens of other refugee vessels, packed with survivors.

The air stank of fear, salt, and despair.

The French had evacuated first, then the African Union soldiers, then the civilians—last as always.

An old man beside her whispered prayers. A child cried for her father, who hadn’t made it onto the boat.

In the distance, they could still see Elven warships, glowing ominously.

“We’ll be safe,” Sita whispered, trying to believe it. “The navies are coming. They’ll protect us.”

But in her heart, she wasn’t sure anymore.

POV: COMMODORE JIN TAKAHASHI – BATTLE NEAR SOLOMON ISLANDS

The second Elven attack on Australia had begun—this time, through the Solomon Islands, attempting to establish beachheads and strongholds closer to the northern coast of Queensland.

Jin Takahashi stood on the bridge of JS Kaga, flanked by officers from Australia and the U.S. Navy.

“They’ve taken some islands,” one officer said grimly. “But they haven’t broken the line.”

And they wouldn’t.

Thanks to early warnings and satellite coordination, human forces had deployed anti-air and anti-ship batteries across the coastlines. The Royal Australian Air Force, supported by Japanese and American fighters, blanketed the skies.

Elven ships trying to breach past the Coral Sea were ambushed with cruise missiles, and those that got close were met with devastating close-quarters island warfare, where the dense jungle and trained troops made Elven spellcasting risky and unreliable.

“We hold the line,” Jin said. “This is our home. And they won’t take it.”

THE AFTERMATH: GLOBAL REPOSITIONING

* South America was no longer an Elven stronghold. Mary’s retreat had cost them dearly, and the Amazon burned with human vengeance.

* The Maldives stood defended. Human pilots, working in cross-national teams, had dealt the Elves their worst air defeat yet—though they didn’t realize the Elves withdrew intentionally.

* Australia remained unconquered. Only a few minor islands had fallen—but the main continent stood defiant.

* Madagascar was lost, but Princess Dyana’s presence suggested a deeper campaign was forming there.

For the first time since the war began, humanity felt the winds shift.

This was no longer just survival.

It was the beginning of resistance.