One month had passed since Varvatos' visit to Sarion.
The Cardinal World, though tense and wary, had grown somewhat used to the unnatural quiet.
The rumors of an incoming apocalypse seemed distant now — like a bad dream.
Merchants resumed their trading.
Children played in the streets.
Knights joked at their posts.
The fear had faded.
On a bright, warm morning, the sun shone high above.
Birds sang sweet songs atop stone buildings.
In Nyvaris, Varvatos stood calmly on his balcony, dressed in simple black robes that whispered with hidden power.
Beside him, Velzard leaned casually on the marble railing, the breeze playing with her silver hair.
"They're getting comfortable," Velzard mused, gazing lazily over the city.
Varvatos closed his eyes briefly, sensing something... distant... stirring.
"They won't be for long," he replied, voice deep and steady.
And then, it began.
Without any warning, the sun disappeared, swallowed by an unnatural blackness.
The wind died.
The sky cracked — literally cracked — as if a giant hammer had struck the heavens.
Silence swept the world.
Then — portals ripped open everywhere.
Hundreds.
Thousands.
Tearing reality apart like paper.
Out of them poured creatures not of this world:
Angels, burning with holy fire, wielding spears and swords of molten light.
Seraphs, monstrous beings with rows of wings and halos like spinning wheels.
Insectars, enormous abominations of chitin and nightmare, screeching with bloodlust.
It was a sight so horrifying that many who witnessed it dropped their weapons in terror.
The Great Invasion had begun.
In Sarion...
Sir Lucius, the commander of Sarion's armies, rushed into the palace courtyard.
"My Queen!" he bellowed.
"It's happening! The sky—! The portals—!"
Queen Elmesia, already clad in her battle robes, stood atop the marble steps, her crown casting a sharp gleam even in the dim light.
"Calm yourself," she ordered, her voice sharp and clear.
"Sound the alarms. Bring everyone within the sanctuary walls."
The barrier that Varvatos had placed around Sarion a month prior shimmered to life, resisting the first battering assault from the descending angels and shrieking insectars.
The walls vibrated with every impact, but the barrier held, glowing stronger with each strike.
Citizens screamed and ran for shelter.
Soldiers scrambled to their stations.
The bells of Sarion rang out like thunder across the land.
In Dwargon...
At the gates of the underground kingdom, Draguel and Gazel Dwargo stood side by side, ancient enemies now united.
"Here they come," Gazel growled, tightening his iron gauntlets.
Draguel cracked his knuckles, smiling a savage grin.
"I hope they brought enough bodies to stack."
Above them, a massive golden shield — Varvatos' protection — pulsed with power, repelling the invaders with bursts of searing light.
On the Ice Continent...
Guy Crimson stood atop a frozen cliff, arms wide open, letting the cold winds whip his crimson hair wildly.
"At last," he muttered, a gleam of manic joy in his red eyes.
"A war worth my time."
Behind him, Rain and Misery prepared silently, their presence heavy, expectant.
The Ice Continent's magical barrier crackled fiercely as hordes of angels crashed against it, falling like broken dolls.
Back in Nyvaris...
Velzard watched with keen amusement as countless angels and insectars battered against the distant shields surrounding the other kingdoms.
"Should we intervene?" she asked, glancing sideways at Varvatos.
Varvatos shook his head slowly.
"Not yet," he said.
"Let them bleed. Let them remember."
Velzard chuckled under her breath.
"You're so cruel sometimes."
Varvatos' lips curved into a small, grim smile.
"Mercy teaches nothing."
The battle across the world was pure chaos:
Angels fell like meteors, smashing into cities and fields, striking against invisible shields.
Insectars gnawed at magical barriers, their acidic saliva sizzling against Varvatos' spells.
Seraphs unleashed terrible hymns — weaponized songs that shattered weak minds and drove common soldiers insane.
In Sarion, Sir Lucius fought desperately atop the wall, sword clashing against a burning angel.
"Hold the lines!" he roared, slashing down another invader.
"The Queen is watching! Do not falter!"
Elmesia stood proudly above, her voice calm even as spells rained around her.
"We will not break," she declared.
"Sarion stands as long as I breathe!"
Her words gave strength to the soldiers below.
Across the Cardinal World:
Carrion unleashed his beast form, cleaving insectars in half with every swipe.
Frey soared through the skies, wings slicing apart angelic squads with deadly precision.
Clayman, leading his puppets, laughed madly as he danced through the battlefield, strings of death wrapping around enemy after enemy.
Even Varvatos' trusted lieutenants — Benimaru, Hakuro, Ranga, and Diablo — had been unleashed.
They cut paths of devastation wherever they fought, their techniques terrifying even the bravest angels.
Benimaru burned the skies crimson.
Hakuro was a blur of death, each stroke severing wings and heads.
Ranga howled a storm into existence, swallowing dozens of enemies whole.
Diablo — elegant and cold — tore apart even the mighty seraphs with whispered words of damnation.
Veldora, floating , laughed thunderously.
"Come, come! More opponents, more fun!"
He spun through the air, blasting giant groups of invaders with dragonic breath, reducing them to ash.
On the balcony in Nyvaris...
Velzard licked her lips thoughtfully.
"They just keep coming."
"They will," Varvatos said darkly.
"They are slaves now. Feldway's playthings. They don't care for victory — only for destruction."
Velzard tilted her head curiously.
"And us? Will we just watch forever?"
Varvatos' eyes gleamed silver.
"When the time comes... we will remind them who the true rulers of existence are."
Above them, the sky cracked again — even bigger portals beginning to tear open — and something even worse loomed beyond them.
The world bled.
The heavens above twisted into grotesque spirals of black and gold light.
Portals yawned open across the land, vomiting legions of Greater Seraphs, Archangels, and Insectar Generals onto the mortal plane.
The second wave of the invasion had begun.
And it was far worse than the first.
In the Eastern Empire...
The walls of the once-mighty Empire crumbled under the endless tides of enemy forces.
Velgrynd, the Scarlet Disaster, floated above the capital city, a solitary goddess of destruction.
Her scarlet eyes burned with fury as she stared down the incoming army of celestial horrors.
Behind her, Rudra, the fallen emperor, leaned heavily against a broken pillar, coughing blood.
Velgrynd turned her head slightly, her voice as sharp as a blade.
"Stay behind me, Rudra," she commanded coldly.
"You have no power left. Let me handle this."
Rudra clenched his fists in frustration — he, who once ruled the skies, now helpless.
But even he knew Velgrynd was right.
With a deafening roar, Velgrynd launched herself forward, tearing through Insectar Generals and Archangels with brutal efficiency, her every move a hurricane of fire and rage.
Below, the imperial soldiers rallied at the sight of her fury — but few dared to hope.
The enemy was endless.
Leon Cromwell, the Golden Demon Lord, stood atop the shining ramparts of his sacred kingdom.
The marble towers of El Dorado glittered under the broken sky, defiant against the apocalypse.
Leon's sword, radiated with enough heat to crack the stone beneath his feet.
At his side fought Claude and Elphina, his trusted companions — not rulers, but warriors sworn to his cause.
The enemy descended like locusts — a sea of wings and screaming light.
Leon spoke without looking.
"Claude, Elphina — guard the eastern and western gates. I'll hold the center."
"Understood, Lord Leon!" they shouted, already moving.
Citizens huddled in the cathedrals, watching through stained glass windows as their golden protector stood alone against the storm.
A small boy whispered to his mother, "That's the Hero of Light..."
Leon raised his blade to the sky.
"Come then," he said quietly, as the first wave crashed against him.
His sword cleaved through an Archangel in one stroke, light exploding outward, pushing back the endless tide.
El Dorado would not fall — not while he still breathed.
The mountains rumbled as Milim Nava unleashed her full power.
Laughing madly, the Dragon Princess punched straight through a Greater Seraph's chest, sending shockwaves rippling through the valley.
Behind her, the soldiers of the Dragon Kingdom fought desperately, struggling to hold back the Insectar hordes.
Carrion, King of Eurazania, fought alongside her, his Beast Form roaring as he tore apart enemies with claw and fang.
"Milim! Focus! They're flanking the civilians!" Carrion shouted.
Milim grinned, her eyes wild.
"Then I'll just smash the whole flank!" she roared back, diving toward a mass of enemies like a living meteor.
Carrion growled and rallied his warriors — lion-men, beastkin, and titanic creatures.
Eurazania's forces and the Dragon Kingdom's armies stood back-to-back, a shield wall of stubborn defiance against annihilation.
In Ruberios...
The holy city's grand spires stood tall, bathed in eerie twilight.
Luminous Valentine, the Vampire Queen, led her knights from the front, her crimson eyes blazing.
She wore a dress of battle, flowing and regal, untouched by blood despite the carnage around her.
Beside her stood the greatest warriors of the Church:
Hinata Sakaguchi, wielding her holy blade, cutting down Archangels with ruthless precision.
Louis Valentine, his rapier dancing like silver lightning.
Gunther, the Immovable Knight, standing like a wall against endless Insectar hordes.
The Knights of the Saint Order formed precise lines, their shields and spears shining.
"Knights! Today, we fight not just for Ruberios, but for existence itself!" Luminous cried, her voice thundering across the battlefield.
Cheers erupted even as death rained from the heavens.
The citizens prayed fervently, tears streaming down their faces.
Above them, their Goddess fought — and with her, they would stand.
In the Barren Lands...
The wastelands screamed under the invasion.
Here, there were no grand cities, no marble palaces — only harsh stone and endless deserts.
Yet even here, resistance burned.
Draguel, stood alone against an ocean of Insectars.
Each of his steps cracked the earth.
Each of his strikes sent shockwaves rolling for miles.
His fists crushed archangels like paper dolls.
His roars split the skies.
Around him, the few inhabitants of the Barren Lands — hardy warriors and survivors — fought with savage ferocity, wielding crude weapons but indomitable hearts.
"We are the stones of the earth!" Draguel bellowed.
"We will not break!"
And the Barren Lands held.
Everywhere across the Cardinal World, fear and awe battled in the hearts of the people.
In El Dorado, children huddled around priests, begging for blessings.
In Ruberios, worshippers lit candles and sang hymns even as the city walls crumbled.
In Eurazania, beastkin roared ancient battle-chants into the night.
In the Dragon Kingdom, farmers armed with pitchforks guarded their villages.
In the Eastern Empire, refugees fled toward the ruins, only to find the ruins filled with blood.
Yet through it all, a grim, desperate hope remained.
The Demon Lords — once feared — now fought for them.
Above, in the Heavenly Palace...
Feldway sat upon a throne of white crystal, his silver eyes cold.
At his side stood Zelanus, the Insectar King, his glittering black carapace reflecting the light of dying stars.
Zelanus buzzed in amusement.
"They resist," he said.
Feldway smiled thinly.
"They struggle. Let them."
He waved his hand — and a third portal began to open.
Vast. Bottomless.
The true elites were preparing to descend.
And when they did... not even the Demon Lords would survive.