Two years. That's how long it had been since the demons fucked everything up.
Rex remembered what the sky used to look like—blue, with actual sunlight that didn't hurt to look at. Birds used to sing in the mornings. Hell, there used to be mornings. Now there was just this endless twilight, thick clouds that never moved, never broke. The air itself felt wrong, like breathing through wet concrete mixed with the stench of rotting flesh.
The first wave of attacks had been a slaughter. More than half the world's population, gone in a matter of weeks. Rex still had nightmares about the screaming. The way people just... disappeared into shadows that moved like living things. The survivors who were left behind scattered like roaches when the lights came on, forming little settlements wherever they could find defensible ground.
Most people got sick pretty quick after the curse hit. The land itself was poisoned—crops grew black and twisted, water turned the color of old blood, and breathing the air too long made you weak and shaky before your organs started shutting down. But some people adapted. Lucky bastards developed a tolerance for all the corruption in the environment. They called themselves Protectors, and they were basically the only thing standing between the settlements and complete annihilation.
The demons didn't make it easy. Wraiths would slip through shadows, their touch freezing your soul before they fed on your terror. You'd hear them coming—this wet, sliding sound like something being dragged across broken glass. Reapers looked like walking skeletons wrapped in tattered flesh, and they had this charming habit of literally harvesting human souls while you were still alive to watch. Even the "lower tier" demons could tear through a group of armed survivors without breaking a sweat, leaving behind nothing but blood-soaked ground and the echo of screams.
Rex had been training for weeks now, getting used to his new divine powers, but he knew the real test was coming. Standing near the temple where everything had changed, he felt it before he heard it—a disturbance in the air that made his teeth ache and his skin crawl like insects were burrowing under it.
The clouds started churning faster, and the ground trembled under his feet. The temperature dropped twenty degrees in as many seconds.
"Shit," Rex muttered, recognizing the signs. This wasn't just another pack of Wraiths. This was something that made Wraiths look like house pets.
Miles away, something roared. Not the shriek of a Wraith or the hollow moan of a Reaper—this was deeper, angrier, like the sound a mountain might make if you ripped its heart out. The roar seemed to go on forever, echoing off the clouds and bouncing back as a chorus of pure malevolence.
Rex squinted into the darkness and saw it approaching Hollowvale—his hometown. An Archdemon riding something that looked like a cross between a dragon and every nightmare you'd ever had. The beast's eyes burned like molten lava, casting hellish light across the landscape. Its massive body pulsed with veins of dark energy, and every step left smoking craters in the earth. The rider was even worse. Tall as a building, covered in armor made from human bones—and Rex could tell they were human because some still had chunks of meat hanging off them. Intelligence burned in eyes that had probably watched civilizations burn for centuries.
Back in Hollowvale, the Protectors were losing their minds trying to get ready. Rex could picture it—alarms going off, children crying as their parents shoved them into basements, people running to grab whatever weapons they could find while trying not to think about how useless those weapons would be. The seven Ethereal Knights, the badasses who ran the settlement's defenses, would be shouting orders while trying not to let anyone see the terror in their eyes.
Over a thousand fighters total—regular folks who'd learned to use swords and bows, plus the 1067 actual Protectors in count who knew what they were doing. All of them probably pissing themselves right about now, and with good reason.
The Archdemon stopped his beast at the edge of town and raised one massive hand. Dark energy swirled around him like a hurricane made of screaming souls, and Rex swore he could hear voices in that darkness—the cries of everyone the demon had killed over the centuries.
"Humans," his voice boomed across the settlement, and Rex could hear it even from miles away. Each word felt like ice picks driven into his skull. "Your time in this world has come to an end. The true reign of darkness is upon you."
Then he let loose.
The wave of dark energy hit Hollowvale like a sledgehammer made of pure death. Buildings didn't just crumble—they were consumed, eaten away by corruption that spread like cancer. Roads split open, revealing glimpses of something writhing underneath. The Protectors' carefully constructed defenses turned to ash in seconds, and Rex could hear the screaming even from this distance. The defenders tried to fight back, but it was like throwing rocks at a tsunami made of nightmares.
Rex felt every bit of destruction like a punch to the gut, but worse than that, he could sense the terror. The absolute, bone-deep horror of people realizing they were about to die in ways that would make them pray for simple death. These weren't just random people—they were his neighbors, his community. The baker who used to give him day-old bread when he couldn't afford fresh, probably cowering in his shop while shadows crept under the door. The blacksmith who'd never charged him full price for repairs, maybe clutching his hammer with shaking hands as something inhuman stalked through his forge.
The worst part was knowing how the demon hierarchy worked. Wraiths and Reapers were nightmare fuel, but Archdemons were in a completely different league. They were smart, powerful, and cruel in ways that regular demons couldn't even comprehend. They didn't just kill—they savored suffering, fed on despair, turned hope into a weapon against you. And above them were the Hex Demons—seven elite monsters who served as the Demon King's personal guard, each one capable of wiping out entire cities for fun.
Nobody had ever seen the Demon King himself, but his influence was everywhere. Every curse, every corrupted piece of land, every shadow that moved when it shouldn't, every child who disappeared in the night—it all traced back to him. The source of every nightmare humanity had faced for the past two centuries.
Rex clenched his fists, feeling the divine power humming under his skin like barely contained lightning. The golden light flickered around his restored arm, and his eyes blazed with determination that burned away the creeping fear.
"Alright," he said to the empty air around the temple, his voice steady despite the horror unfolding miles away. "I guess this is it."
The people of Hollowvale were tough—they'd survived two hundred years of hell and kept fighting when most would have given up. But toughness only got you so far when you were facing down a creature that could level buildings with a gesture and turn your worst fears into reality.
Rex looked toward the distant settlement, where the Archdemon's presence felt like a cold weight pressing down on his soul, like being buried alive in a coffin made of despair. The first real battle for Earth's future was about to begin, and people were going to die. Horribly.
And for the first time since getting his powers, Rex felt ready to make the demons pay for every scream, every drop of blood, every moment of terror they'd inflicted.
"Time to see what a Divine General can really do," he muttered, and started running toward the fight, leaving trails of golden light in the darkness.