A rift of swirling darkness tore open in the crimson sky, and from its depths, Lucian Blackthorne stepped forward. The heavens above Nyzareth were bathed in an ominous red glow, filled with countless dragons circling like harbingers of destruction. Below, the land was infested with monstrous creatures—aberrations of chaos, prowling and feasting upon the weak.
A lone figure stood before him, his silver mask gleaming under the blood-red sky. Thomas, the Abyssal Shadow, knelt in greeting.
"Welcome, my Lord," Thomas said, his voice laced with reverence.
Lucian's piercing gaze swept across the desolate land before he spoke, his tone calm yet commanding. "Have you completed your task?"
"Yes, my Lord. I have gathered all the necessary information about this world," Thomas replied.
Lucian nodded in approval. "Good."
Thomas hesitated for a brief moment before asking, "My Lord, why did you not erase the memories of the previous world? Would it not be more beneficial?"
A smirk played on Lucian's lips. "Martial artists are simple creatures. Show them power, and they will chase after it blindly, never questioning its source. But magicians? They fear what they cannot understand. They create limits for themselves, fearing the unknown. That is the difference."
Thomas bowed his head in understanding. "As expected of you, my Lord."
Then, his voice turned grave. "My Lord, what we seek is in two pieces. One rests in the hands of the Nine Demon Kings of Nyzareth, and the other is safeguarded by the Holy Kingdom of Zenith."
Lucian's eyes gleamed with intrigue. "Then we shall begin with the demons. Tell me, who among them is the strongest?"
Thomas's voice carried a hint of amusement. "Azrath, the Demon King of the Abyssal Dominion. He stands above all others in strength."
Lucian's smirk widened. "Does he not hold friendly ties with the others?"
"No, my Lord. Azrath is like a lone tiger—he walks alone, rather than among a flock of sheep."
Lucian's gaze turned sharp. "Then we shall take his throne."
The Throne of the Abyssal Dominion
In the heart of Nyzareth, a colossal obsidian citadel loomed over the land. Within its grand hall, Demon King Azrath sat upon his blackened throne, his crimson eyes burning with silent contemplation.
A low growl echoed as one of his servants, a hulking beast with darkened scales, stepped forward.
"My King, the arrogance of the other Demon Kings grows daily. They treat us as lesser beings, forgetting our sacrifices for Nyzareth!"
Another demon, a sharp-clawed warrior, snarled, "We should strike first! Assassinate them before they have a chance to act!"
Azrath's expression remained unmoved. "They are fools, yes. But war? That is a waste of strength."
A murmur of unrest spread through the court.
Another high-ranking demon stepped forward, his voice filled with disgust. "My King, surely you do not intend to bow to the Holy Kingdom? Fighting alongside humans would be a humiliation beyond compare!"
"We are demons! They are mere livestock!" another roared.
Azrath's patience snapped. His voice thundered through the hall like a storm of nightmares.
"Silence!"
The entire hall fell into a stunned hush.
"What I decide is absolute. We will align with the humans if that ensures our survival."
Just as the murmurs of protest were about to rise again—a presence unlike anything they had ever felt descended upon them.
The air froze.
A dark figure materialized in the center of the grand hall, as if he had stepped out of the void itself.
Lucian Blackthorne stood before the Demon King.
A monstrous pressure crashed down upon the demons, suffocating them in its presence. Swords, spears, and claws were drawn, aimed directly at Lucian's throat.
But before a single attack could be made—
Lucian exhaled.
A mere sliver of his killing intent flooded the room, and in an instant—
All the demons were thrown back, their bodies slamming into the walls, vomiting blood.
Even the strongest warriors crumpled to the ground, their very souls trembling.
And then—Demon King Azrath knelt.
His head bowed. His voice unwavering.
"I greet Your Highness."
Gasps echoed throughout the chamber. The Demon King of the Abyssal Dominion—the one who never bowed—was kneeling before this man.
Lucian chuckled darkly. "Azrath, you certainly know how to survive."
His gaze burned into the kneeling Demon King. "I have a proposal for you."
Azrath did not hesitate. "I accept it, my Lord."
A ripple of shock spread through the hall.
"My Lord! You cannot—"
Azrath's eyes flashed with unholy fire. "Silence. This man is beyond any of us. Our only choice is to follow."
Lucian's voice was calm, yet absolute. "Azrath, become my subordinate. Together, we shall overthrow the other Demon Kings."
Azrath lowered his head. "As you command, my Lord."
The Path to Supremacy
Lucian sat upon Azrath's throne, exuding undeniable dominance.
Azrath stood beside him, his voice steady. "My Lord, the state of Nyzareth is fragile. The Demon Kings grow restless. They desire a supreme ruler to unite them. Meanwhile, the Holy Kingdom of Zenith grows stronger by the day. War is inevitable."
Lucian's eyes gleamed. "Then we shall make you that supreme ruler."
Azrath hesitated. "But how, my Lord?"
Lucian's voice deepened, resonating through the hall.
"Through supremacy. Show me your army."
Azrath nodded and led Lucian to the balcony of the Abyssal Citadel.
Before them, an ocean of darkness stretched endlessly.
A monstrous army—twenty million strong.
At the forefront stood two towering dragons.
Valkrion, the Crimson Inferno – The Red Dragon of Flames, whose breath reduced mountains to ashes.Azuryth, the Abyssal Tide – The Blue Dragon of Water, whose very presence commanded the oceans.
Behind them, 100 dragons roared, shaking the heavens.
Azrath gestured towards the legions of demons below. "These are my warriors, my Lord. And under my command, five hundred elite magicians."
Lucian's expression was unreadable.
Then, he smirked. "Azrath, you have built a grand army. Now, let us begin."
Azrath hesitated. "And the Holy Kingdom?"
Lucian raised a hand. "Show me where it is."**
Azrath pointed westward.
Lucian lifted a single finger.
In an instant, a colossal illusion barrier, infused with 10th-class magic, enveloped the Holy Kingdom.
Azrath's eyes widened in awe. "What… what did you do, my Lord?"
Lucian's smirk deepened. "Now, they will not interfere."
Azrath turned to his warriors, his voice thundering through the citadel.
"Ready your blades. Today, we cut off the heads of the other Demon Kings."
The march of war had begun.
The sky over Nyzareth burned crimson as war drums echoed across the vast dominion of demons. A storm of dark clouds swirled above, lightning crackling in jagged streaks across the heavens. Beneath this sky, two figures stood upon a towering fortress balcony, overlooking an army that stretched beyond the horizon.
Lucian, clad in his midnight-black armor, his piercing gaze colder than the abyss itself, stood beside Azrath, the Demon King of the Abyssal Dominion. Azrath's face held no traces of fear—only reverence and anticipation.
"This is the moment we carve our legend into the very bones of Nyzareth," Lucian declared, his voice carrying across the assembled legions. "Tonight, the demons shall kneel before a true king—or perish."
Azrath smirked, his demonic aura flaring. "My Lord, the other Demon Kings have ruled through fear and treachery. They believe we are weak, isolated. They will not see us coming."
Lucian's lips curled into a dark smile. "Good. Let them cling to their delusions until my sword shatters them."
Azrath's army moved like an unrelenting tide. Ten million demons, their armor glistening under the blood-red sky, roared in unison. The two dragons, Valkrion the Crimson Inferno and Azuryth the Abyssal Tide, soared above, their colossal wings casting shadows over the battlefield.
Their first target stood ahead—Haizel, the Demon Lord of Ten Thousand Blades. His fortress, a towering obsidian citadel surrounded by rivers of molten lava, loomed like a beast awaiting prey.
Azrath turned to Lucian. "Haizel is a warrior who believes in dominance through strength alone. He will never surrender."
Lucian's crimson eyes gleamed. "Then we will show him the folly of his strength."
With a flick of his wrist, he unsheathed his sword, a dark blade that hummed with boundless energy. He raised it high, and a single swing sent out a violent wave of destruction.
The very air split apart. The shockwave tore through the fortress walls, shattering them like brittle glass. The demons within cried out in panic as the citadel quaked beneath their feet.
Reinforcements—The Gathering Storm
Descending from the sky, wreathed in violet flames, was Velgrath, the Demon Lord of Phantom Flames. His long, shadowy wings spread wide as his piercing, glowing eyes locked onto Lucian.
"You're making quite the mess, human," Velgrath mused, his voice smooth yet carrying an undercurrent of malevolence. "I was content to watch, but now… I believe I shall burn you to cinders myself."
From the west, a gust of black wind howled, and stepping through the swirling darkness was Nyzaria, the Demon Queen of the Forsaken Moon. Her pale silver hair billowed as her piercing violet gaze met Lucian's. "I did not expect a war today… but I welcome it."
Azrath cursed under his breath. "Damn it. Two Demon Kings arriving at once?"
Lucian smirked. "No. Three."
As if summoned by his words, the ground trembled violently. Rising from beneath the earth, encased in obsidian armor, was Draethis, the Demon Lord of Unyielding Stone. His enormous frame, nearly twice the size of any other Demon King, loomed like a living fortress.
Four Demon Kings stood united against Lucian and Azrath.
Azrath's forces hesitated. The sight of four Demon Kings together was a nightmare. Even his strongest warriors felt their knees weaken.
Lucian, however, stepped forward, his expression unreadable. He exhaled slowly.
"Come."
The Battlefield Erupts
The world itself seemed to hold its breath before hell was unleashed.
Velgrath raised a single hand, violet flames coiling around his fingers before he slammed them into the earth. Instantly, an inferno erupted, consuming thousands of soldiers in hellfire. Their screams echoed, but Lucian remained unfazed.
Nyzaria whispered something under her breath, and a chilling mist spread across the battlefield. The demons caught in it suddenly froze, their bodies turning to glass-like ice before shattering.
Draethis stomped forward, each step creating a seismic wave that sent troops flying. His fists, harder than any known material, crushed entire platoons.
Rhaizel, seething with rage from his broken sword, called forth a thousand spectral blades, each one sharper than the finest edge, and hurled them toward Lucian.
Lucian did not dodge.
Instead, he raised his hand and simply willed them to stop.
The thousands of blades trembled, then froze mid-air.
A moment later, they reversed—turning back toward their master.
Rhaizel barely had time to react before his own weapons came streaking toward him. He roared, unleashing a surge of energy to block them, but it was too late. Several blades pierced his armor, sending him staggering back.
Lucian exhaled slowly. "Weak."
Azrath's Wrath
Azrath saw his chance. He turned toward Draethis, the massive Demon King of Unyielding Stone, and roared, "Your brute strength means nothing against true power!"
With a single motion, Azrath called forth Valkrion and Azuryth.
The two dragons surged forward. Valkrion unleashed a pillar of hellfire, turning the very ground into molten lava. Azuryth summoned a tidal wave, extinguishing the battlefield in a surge of abyssal water.
Draethis roared in fury, striking the ground with his fists. The earth cracked open, swallowing hundreds of soldiers, but it was not enough. The two dragons descended upon him, claws and fangs tearing into his armor.
Lucian's Next Move
Lucian turned toward the sky, watching Nyzaria and Velgrath, the two most unpredictable Demon Kings. He could sense their wariness now. They had seen enough to realize what they were facing.
Lucian raised his voice. "You still have a choice. Kneel now, or continue this futile struggle."
Nyzaria merely smiled. "You are interesting, I will admit… but I wish to see how much further this goes."
Velgrath smirked. "Then let's continue, shall we?"
Lucian cracked his knuckles. "Very well. Then allow me to show you despair."
As the next battle commenced, the war for Nyzareth had truly begun.
A deep, booming laugh echoed from within.
"You dare strike my domain?!"
A figure emerged from the collapsing fortress—Haizel himself. His massive frame was clad in blackened steel, his crimson greatsword pulsing with power. Countless spectral blades hovered behind him, each carrying the weight of a thousand battles.
His fiery gaze locked onto Lucian. "I do not know who you are, human, but you have just sealed your fate."
Lucian stepped forward, meeting the Demon King's glare with an icy smirk.
"No, Haizel. It is you who has already lost."