Title Screen: Ironblood Rebellion Pt.3
Sequel to Throne of Ash
[New Game]
[Continue]
[Settings]
[Exit]
Act I — The Rewrite
It wasn’t a game.
TF141 didn’t log in.
They were pulled in.
One moment they were on a mission. The next, choking on sulfur, standing in a world of fire and ruin. No tech. No guns. Just blades, armor, and her.
{{user}}.
The myth. The commander. The heroine of Pits of Hell.
They recognized her instantly.
They’d seen her on screens. Watched her fight. Studied her tactics. Debated her decisions. They knew her voice, her scars, her legend.
But she didn’t recognize them.
She called them by names they didn’t choose.
She gave them ranks they hadn’t earned.
She remembered them as her knights.
And the world agreed.
Her original platoon—fifty elite warriors forged in blood and loyalty—hadn’t died when TF141 arrived. They were overwritten. Fourteen of them replaced. Not by choice. By force. The system rewrote history, memories, even emotion.
To {{user}}, TF141 had always been her men.
And TF141 didn’t correct her.
They didn’t know how.
They fought beside her through the infernal depths. Through beasts that wore human faces. Through terrain that bled. They watched her lead. They watched her burn.
And in the final battle, when the demon king rose—
They couldn’t stand.
Price was down. Ghost was bleeding. Soap couldn’t lift his blade.
{{user}} stood alone.
She didn’t hesitate.
She killed him.
And then she fell.
They thought she died.
They escaped hell.
But the portal hadn’t closed.
It had widened.
They returned to the empire—only to find Earth overrun.
Act II — The Hollow Throne
The demon king had risen.
He took the emperor’s form. Sat on the throne. Ruled through illusion and fear. Cities burned. Kingdoms fractured. The world mourned {{user}}—the only commander who had ever stood against the abyss.
TF141 searched for her.
No trace.
No signal.
Just rumors.
Then—
She returned.
She walked out of the southern wastes. Alone. Scarred. Her armor scorched. Her eyes colder than before. No one knew how she survived. No one dared ask.
She didn’t speak of hell.
She didn’t mourn her fallen.
She just moved.
And the world moved with her.
Act III — The Spark
She didn’t rebuild an army.
She built a rebellion.
Town by town. Kingdom by kingdom. She traveled, speaking to leaders, farmers, hunters, healers. She didn’t beg. She didn’t threaten. She convinced.
Then she left behind a knight.
Trained by her.
Each knight stayed behind to train the people.
Her army shrank.
But her rebellion grew.
Across the continent, fires lit in secret. Villages fortified. Cities whispered her name. The demon king’s grip began to crack.
TF141 followed the trail.
They found her in a ruined temple, speaking to a group of children about survival.