The sky over the Holy City of Aethelgard was no longer blue. It was a bruised purple, swirling with the atmospheric friction of ten thousand wings. The "Divine Pulse"—a rhythmic golden shockwave emitted from the central Crystal Tower—beat like a frightened heart, trying to push back the encroaching tide of darkness.
Below, the Grand Army of the Union of Light stood in terrifyingly perfect formation. Five hundred thousand paladins, their shields interlocking to create a sea of silver, stood ready. Behind them, rows of High Mages funneled their mana into the city's artillery: the Solar Cannons, massive lenses of enchanted quartz aimed directly at the clouds.
Then, the clouds parted.
It wasn't a rain of fire that descended, but a rain of shadow.
Valerius stood upon the head of Aurelia, the Dragon Queen. Behind them, four other Great Dragons followed, their scales reinforced by Valerius's dark mana, turning them into obsidian juggernauts. Surrounding them were thousands of lesser demons, gargoyles, and shadow-wraiths—the "Army of the Night" that had been hiding in the world's cracks for a millennium.
"FIRE!" roared a commander from the city walls.
A hundred beams of concentrated solar energy tore through the sky. One beam struck a dragon to Valerius's left, vaporizing its wing instantly. The beast plummeted, screaming, into the silver sea of paladins below, crushing hundreds in its death throes.
"Panginoon! The Solar Cannons are bypassing our natural resistances!" Ignis shouted, his blue flames turning white with the effort of shielding their flank.
Valerius did not blink. He looked at the Crystal Tower, the spire that reached into the heavens, where Lyra—his soul, his light—was being drained to power this very defense. Every beam they fired was a piece of her life force.
"They are using her as a battery," Valerius whispered, his voice vibrating with a quiet, tectonic fury. "They force her to kill her own people."
He stepped off Aurelia's head, free-falling toward the city.
"50% Release: Abyssal Descent."
As he fell, Valerius swung the Void Eater in a vertical line. The air itself seemed to zip open. A rift of pure non-existence followed his descent, swallowing every solar beam aimed at him. He hit the ground in the center of the main plaza with the force of a falling star, the shockwave shattering the marble for three blocks.
Thousands of paladins rushed him, their spears glowing with holy enchantments.
"VORGATH! CLEAR THE WAY!" Valerius commanded.
From the sky, a massive silhouette crashed down behind Valerius. Vorgath, in his "Colossus Form," stood fifty feet tall, his body now made of volcanic obsidian. With one sweep of his arm, he sent a hundred paladins flying like broken dolls.
"THE KING MARCHES!" Vorgath bellowed, his voice cracking the walls of the nearby cathedrals.
Valerius walked through the chaos, his sword flickering in and out of reality. Every time he swung, a dozen men simply vanished—no blood, no bodies, only the silence of the Void. He was a reaper in a field of silver grain.
He reached the base of the Crystal Tower. Standing there was Duke Ironheart, the Sage of Fortification. He was encased in a suit of armor that made him look like a mechanical god, holding the Aegis of the Seven—a shield the size of a barn door, etched with the names of a thousand saints.
"No further, Demon," Ironheart growled, his voice muffled by his helm. "This shield was forged with the tears of martyrs. It cannot be broken by darkness."
"I do not need to break it, Ironheart," Valerius said, his eyes glowing with the 50% mark. "I only need to remind you why you feared me."
Ironheart slammed his shield into the ground, creating a shockwave of holy force. "Absolute Domain: Indomitable Fortress!"
A golden cage materialized around them, locking Valerius in a duel. Ironheart charged, his shield glowing with the power of a sun.
Valerius met the charge. He didn't use his sword. He caught the edge of the "unbreakable" shield with his bare hand. The holy light burned his skin, his flesh hissing and turning black, but he did not let go.
"You speak of martyrs," Valerius hissed, his face inches from the Duke's helm. "But you hide behind a girl's soul. You are not a knight. You are a parasite."
Valerius's grip tightened. The Void Eater on his hip began to scream.
"60% Release: Soul Overload."
Black veins climbed up Valerius's arm and onto the shield. The golden runes on the Aegis began to bleed. The Duke's eyes widened behind his visor as he felt his own life force being sucked into the vacuum of Valerius's hand.
CRACK.
The Aegis of the Seven—the legendary, unbreakable shield—shattered into a million glass-like shards. Valerius drove his fist through the Duke's chestplate, pinning the massive man to the tower wall.
"The fortress has fallen," Valerius whispered.
He pulled his hand back, leaving the Duke to slump into a pile of empty armor. Ironheart was dead before he hit the ground.
Valerius looked up. The tower was humming. The ritual was reaching its climax. He could feel Lyra's presence thinning, her light being stretched until it was about to snap.
He began to climb the exterior of the tower, leaping from balcony to balcony. As he reached the summit, the air became so thick with holy mana that it felt like swimming in molten gold.
In the center of the roof stood High Sage Solomon. He sat on a throne of light, his blindfold removed to reveal eyes that were empty white orbs. Beside him, Lyra was suspended in the air, her body translucent, connected to the tower by thousands of glowing threads.
"You are late, Valerius," Solomon said, his voice calm and detached. "The 'God' is almost born. Your darkness has arrived just in time to provide the shadow that gives the light its form."
"Let her go, Solomon," Valerius said, the Void Eater vibrating so violently it was blurring his vision.
"I cannot," Solomon smiled thinly. "She is the world's hope. And you... you are the world's necessity. Together, you will be the new sun."
Solomon raised his hand, and the golden threads began to pull Valerius toward the center. Valerius fought it, his boots digging into the stone, but his own mana—his 60%—was being drawn out of him like a magnetic pull.
"Valerius... please..." Lyra's voice was a faint whisper in his mind. "Kill me. If I die, the ritual fails. Don't let him... don't let him make us into a monster."
Valerius looked at her. Her morning-gold eyes were full of love and terror. If he struck her, he would be a complete Demon King, free of any weakness, but he would be alone in an empty world. If he didn't, they would both be merged into a mindless puppet for Solomon's "New World."
Valerius gripped the hilt of his sword with both hands. His Mana Circuit was screaming, his skin cracking under the pressure of 70%... 80%...
"I told you, Solomon," Valerius roared, his voice tearing the sky in half. "I am not here to reclaim a soul. And I am not here to be your god."
He didn't strike Lyra. He didn't strike Solomon.
He plunged the Void Eater into his own heart.
The world went white.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" Solomon screamed, jumping from his throne.
"The Void... eats... everything," Valerius gasped, blood—black and red—pouring from his mouth. "Including the connection... you built."
By stabbing himself, Valerius created a 'Void Anchor.' Instead of his mana flowing into the ritual, the ritual began to flow into him. The tower, the city's defenses, the holy threads, and even Solomon's own mana were being sucked into the hole in Valerius's chest.
The Crystal Tower began to crumble. The golden sky was being devoured by a black hole centered on Valerius's heart.
"You're destroying it all!" Solomon wailed, his form dissolving into light. "You'll kill everyone!"
"No," Valerius looked at Lyra, who was falling toward him as the threads snapped. "I'm just taking back... what's mine."
He caught Lyra in his arms. As the tower collapsed into the abyss of the Void, Valerius felt the 100% of his power return. But it wasn't the cold, empty power of the Demon King. It was warm.
The black circles in his eyes merged with the gold of hers.