No ceiling. No bottom. Everything was a pale grey mass, bleeding slowly, like flayed flesh stretched across the axis of a timeless void.
At the center, a round table made of an unidentified metal floated in nothingness. Surrounding it were ten empty thrones—each one representing a form not yet born.
---
[First Gate – Igroth, Demon King of Rotation]
The first gate appeared as a tear in reality, folding back into itself.
From it, Igroth emerged—Demon King of Twisted Consciousness and Reality.
> "Seems I arrived a bit early."
Igroth sat on his empty throne—it immediately twisted into a living tomb made of piled bones, blood seeping through eye sockets like tears down infant skulls.
The table where his hand rested transformed into his domain.
---
[Second Gate – Zarnathel, Demon King of Pride]
A black sun opened—not to shine, but to burn away all surrounding light.
Zarnathel stepped out, taller than reality itself, clad in a cloak of mirrors reflecting every possible version of himself.
As he sat, the throne became a colossal statue of his own face, bowing to itself.
> "All things are reflections of me—even you."
---
[Third Gate – Ulborak, Demon King of Hunger]
The gate was a mouth.
It chewed and vomited out a massive, ragged body that constantly devoured its own flesh just to persist.
Ulborak roared as he took his seat—the throne became an opened stomach, swallowing all sound, light, and hope.
> "Feed me more... until the world is eaten too."
---
[Fourth Gate – Vesshara, Demon Queen of Lust]
Hundreds of writhing arms opened the gate from the shadows.
Vesshara stepped out—half flesh, half shadow, every step leaving behind moans, every breath scorching reason.
Her throne was an execution bed of blades and hair, trembling with pleasure to the beat of hearts slain by love
---
[Fifth Gate – Maegarn, Demon King of Dominion]
The sound of bone-march echoed—a massive army paraded past.
From their midst, Maegarn emerged, a face with no mouth—only a scepter driven through his skull.
His throne rose from the corpses of kings, generals, gods, and peasants—each head biting the one below it.
> "Dominion is instinct. Freedom is an illusion."
---
[Sixth Gate – Rhelmor, Demon King of Cruelty]
A red lightning bolt split space. Rhelmor slithered out—his body a scar, his hands surgical blades.
His throne was a living torture chair, screaming with each movement.
> "Compassion? That only dulls the blade."
---
[Seventh Gate – Saquiel, Demon King of Forbidden Knowledge]
The gate was an open book.
From within, Saquiel crawled like a giant bookworm clad in human skin.
His eyes were burning scrolls.
His throne was the heads of 100 prophets, endlessly chanting unwritten spells.
> "Want truth? Pay with yourself."
---
[Eighth Gate – Nyazraal, Demon King of Betrayal]
The gate was a cracked mirror.
Nyazraal stepped out—always wearing the face of the one you trust most, his voice like a mother's.
His throne was a crucifix hung with betrayed oaths, bleeding from every fingertip.
---
[Ninth Gate – Thar'Ragon, Demon King of Wrath]
The gate erupted like a volcano.
A mass of ash, molten iron, and shattered bones collapsed—and from it, Thar'Ragon rose, eyes eternally ablaze.
His throne was a furnace that never cooled, beneath which knelt those who once begged for mercy.
> "No one forgave me, and I shall forgive no one."
---
[Tenth Gate – Yg-Kalat, Demon King of Desperate Faith]
The tenth gate was nothing more than a rotted crucifix.
Two lambs crawled from the dark, giggling madly before slitting their own throats.
From the blood, Yg-Kalat emerged—a colossal eye with thousands of lids.
His throne grew from human bodies twisted into crucifixes, their mouths still singing hymns with voices no longer tethered to vocal cords.
> "Faith saves no one. It merely gives me reason to kill more."
---
Once all Demon Kings had gathered, the round table transformed—each territory becoming part of a complete map of infernal domains.
Then, a new gate appeared—not elaborate, but stark in its simplicity.
From it stepped a man in a black cloak, the air itself falling silent to catch each of his steps.
> "Thank you all for coming. I'm glad not a single one is absent."
Kael Vandros—the name echoed among the ten Demon Kings like a feast of serpents.
Igroth tilted his head slightly. ("A human?")
As Thar'Ragon began to rise, his body turned to stone—Kael's light slicing through all movement.
> "I'm not here for your permission. I'm here to declare."
> "The world… is due for destruction. And I need each of you to complete the rite."
---
Lioren walked through splendid streets, among peddlers and prayers echoing from every chapel.
This city—Avela—was once a village, now the cultural and spiritual heart of the continent.
> ("I've been asleep... for 500 years.")
His eyes settled on a golden-clad cathedral, its inner sounds starkly different—cold and grim.
He approached—the shadow of his body melding into the wall—listening…
A servant ran up in a panic:
> "My lord, the wealth you brought..."
AveNolavel, coldly:
> "Give it to them? So they can buy more dead children for sacrifice?"
> "Burn it. Or throw it in the river."
Flames rose. The cries of children echoed faintly, as if from a deep well.
AveNolavel's carriage rolled away from the cathedral, leaving Lioren standing frozen before a stone gate engraved with the image of a blindfolded man crucified.
> "A familiar feeling."