The skies above the Eastern Empire darkened despite the rising sun. The heavens churned as the vast magic power of Emperor Rudra reached its zenith. From the highest tower of his imperial palace, Rudra stood with arms wide open, the golden light of divinity pulsing from his form. His eyes, once clear and noble, were now laced with eerie calmness and chilling conviction—a sign of Michael's complete dominance over his will.
"Now begins the Judgment of the unworthy," Rudra declared. "Michael... unleash them."
A luminous halo formed behind Rudra's head. His body shone like the sun as his Ultimate Skill, Michael: Lord of Justice, activated. Thousands upon thousands of golden portals ripped open the sky behind him. From the brilliant tears in reality, millions of angels descended, their radiant wings and celestial armor casting blinding reflections across the clouds. Each bore a weapon forged in divine light, and every soul was locked onto a singular target:
Nyvaris.
The kingdom of Nyvaris was calm that morning. Birds chirped peacefully, the crystalline rivers sparkled in the sunlight. In his serene chambers, Varvatos stood by a tall window, sipping tea as Velzard sat nearby, leafing through an ancient tome.
Suddenly, a ripple in space. Varvatos' pupils narrowed as the atmosphere above the kingdom shivered.
"They're here," he murmured, placing his teacup down.
Velzard looked up sharply. "Rudra... already?"
Within moments, the doors burst open. Benimaru, Veldora, Hakuro, and Rigur came rushing in.
"Lord Varvatos!" Benimaru shouted, urgency in his tone. "Angels! Hundreds of portals have opened up above the capital!"
"They're everywhere!" Veldora added, fists clenched.
"We need to deploy immediately!"
Varvatos raised a hand calmly.
"Calm yourselves."
The room fell silent.
"The barriers of Nyvaris were not constructed to fall to divine theatrics. Let them come. This kingdom will not bend."
Outside, the people of Nyvaris watched in awe and terror as the skies shimmered and angels poured forth like divine rain. Yet, as the first rays of angelic magic struck the domes of Nyvaris, the city shimmered in response.
The multi-layered arcane barrier didn't crack—it absorbed.
With every impact, it pulsed brighter, stronger.
Far away in the Ice Continent, Guy Crimson was standing atop his frost-covered tower, his eyes locked on the heavens. He felt it. The tear in reality. The divine pressure.
"Hmph... he actually did it," Guy muttered.
He turned and flicked his hand, summoning a mirror of crimson light.
"All Demon Lords," he announced, his voice cutting across the realms, "prepare yourselves. The angels have descended. They're over Nyvaris."
In a brilliant display of teleportation and magical might, the Demon Lords assembled above Nyvaris.
Leon Cromwell, with his golden armor and blazing sword, arrived in a flash of solar fire.
Milim Nava burst through a dimensional crack, energy flaring around her in chaotic spirals.
Luminous Valentine descended in a storm of roses and moonlight, Hinata at her side.
Draguel, his body pulsing with temporal magic, appeared beside his daughter Laura, fully armored.
Frey and Carrion, majestic in their combat forms, flew to the skies.
Dino, lazy smile gone, floated mid-air with arms folded, serious.
Clayman, clad in dark regal attire, summoned a host of puppets to accompany him.
Above the capital of Nyvaris, the skies were now a battlefield.
"So many of them..." Milim cracked her knuckles. "Looks like fun!"
"Don't be reckless," Leon said sternly. "This is war, not a game."
"Tch," Carrion growled, deflecting a volley of holy arrows. "They just keep coming."
"The barrier is holding," Luminous observed, "but we need to push them back before they find a way to breach it."
The Demon Lords moved into action. Magic clashed with divine light. Wings tore through the sky. Roars of dragons, explosions of spellfire, and celestial hymns filled the air.
The people of Nyvaris watched in awe as their defenders lit up the heavens, fighting not just for the kingdom—but for the very world.
And in the highest tower of Nyvaris, Varvatos and Velzard stood side by side, overlooking it all.
"So it begins," Velzard whispered.
"Indeed," Varvatos replied.
The skies churned with golden light, saturated with angelic wings and burning halos. Countless angels, like an endless divine tide, clashed with the fiercest beings the world had ever known.
Milim darted through the air like a thunderbolt, her aura rippling with raw chaos. She smashed through flocks of angels with wild laughter, "You think you can tire me out with numbers? Keep 'em coming!" Her fists glowed like miniature suns.
Leon's sword carved through the celestial ranks with absolute precision, his expression ice-cold, golden hair billowing behind him. Luminous summoned pillars of twilight and blood, turning the battlefield into a surreal painting of light and shadows.
Carrion roared like a beast of legend, his claws tearing through armored cherubs. Frey rained down wind blades, slicing angelic formations apart in elegant arcs.
Draguel, his massive form encased in layered magical armor, cleaved through hundreds of enemies with every swing of his halberd. Dino, yawning despite the chaos, manipulated gravity around him, causing hosts of angels to fall out of the sky like shattered stars.
And above it all, Guy Crimson, the King of Pride, stood like a devil god. Wreathed in infernal energy, he let loose his true form — magnificent, horrifying — and obliterated entire legions with a single gesture. His voice echoed across the heavens, calm and amused:
"How many more of you are they going to send? You're starting to bore me."
In Nyvaris — Inside Varvatos' Palace
Benimaru burst into the hall, flanked by Veldora, Hakuro, and Rigur. All were winded, tense, bearing the urgency of warriors desperate to act.
"My lord, Varvatos!" Benimaru knelt, his voice sharp. "The Demon Lords are giving it their all, but they're being overwhelmed. Shouldn't we help them?"
Veldora stood tall, crackling with suppressed power. "I've been itching for a real fight too. Let me loose already!"
But Varvatos… said nothing.
He remained seated in his dark velvet chair, bathed in ambient blue light from the translucent dome of Nyvaris. His eyes watched the battle above with eerie calm, his fingers steepled before him.
Velzard, who sat beside him, looked to him, understanding but concerned.
Benimaru repeated, softer this time. "My lord?"
Still, no answer.
Varvatos' eyes finally shifted — not in hesitation, but in subtle calculation. Like an astronomer watching distant stars align.
"They're not ready yet," he murmured at last. "And neither is the stage."
The others exchanged confused glances, but they did not push further. They trusted him… even if they didn't yet understand.
Then suddenly…
A new burst of energy slammed into the sky. The aura was unmistakable — searing and volatile.
Velgrynd had arrived.
The crimson drake soared into the battlefield like a comet. Her power resonated like a dragon's roar across dimensions. As she joined her fellow Demon Lords, her voice thundered:
"I'm here now. Let's finish this already!"
Her flames cut across the heavens, forming a blazing crescent that vaporized thousands of angels at once. The other Lords felt a surge of morale. The battlefield shook anew.
Deep inside his command chamber, Rudra stood in front of a magical projection of the battle above Nyvaris.
Michael's whispers twisted softly through Rudra's thoughts. "Still he does nothing. Still Varvatos waits. This is our moment. Push forward."
General Kondou knelt before him. "Your Majesty, the Demon Lords are engaged, but Varvatos has not entered the fray."
Damrada, arms folded, frowned. "We still have time to reconsider. If this continues—"
Rudra raised a hand. His eyes were no longer calm. They burned with certainty… and something else. Something not entirely his.
"No," he said firmly. "Send the army. It is time."
Kondou nodded grimly. "Yes, Your Majesty."
Across the entire Eastern Empire, horns began to sound.
War drums echoed through every stronghold. The skies darkened as vast airships activated their levitation runes. Flying fortresses rose with mechanical grace, massive engines glowing beneath them. Legion after legion of elite soldiers formed in perfect rank.
Over 5 million troops began to march. The ground trembled beneath their feet.
Magitek weapons powered by soul crystals hummed to life. Cannons the size of buildings were loaded onto carriers. The full might of the Eastern Empire was mobilized.
And at the head of it all… Rudra himself.
His crimson cape billowed. His gaze was fixed toward the distant light of Nyvaris.
Flanking him were his most trusted men — General Kondou, Damrada — and floating beside the flagship, cloaked in silence and malice, was a single dark figure.
The Primordial Demon Noir.
Dressed immaculately in a black butler suit, he sipped tea from a floating porcelain cup, eyes glowing faintly red. His smirk was relaxed, amused.
"Well then," Noir purred, "I suppose it's time we truly begin the dance."