The ground buckled.
It wasn't a tremor—it was as if the very bones of the Cardinal World groaned under an unseen weight. Rocks split apart, dirt rolled like waves on an ocean, and the tents they had set up creaked and strained as if they were about to collapse.
The sky, once clear, blackened in seconds. A crimson hue bled across the heavens like spilled ink spreading across parchment. Clouds spiraled unnaturally, twisting into shapes that looked like screaming faces, lightning flashing through their mouths. The wind stopped altogether—unnerving, unnatural. The kind of silence that suffocated the soul.
Every one of them felt it.
Veldora rose from his seat in the tent, his golden eyes narrowing. His expression was calm, but beneath it, there was a sharp tension. His voice, deep and commanding, cut through the silence.
"…Get ready."
Velgrynd's brows furrowed. "You mean—"
"Yes." Veldora's gaze snapped upward. "He is here."
The others didn't question it. They knew.
The group rushed out of their tents almost in unison—Guy Crimson's crimson hair catching the dim glow of the crimson sky, Milim bounding forward with sparks of raw energy swirling around her, Velzard's pale silver hair glowing eerily against the shifting light. Diablo, Testarossa, Ultima, and Carrera flanked them, each already radiating killing intent like a storm waiting to explode.
And then it came.
The voice.
Not loud at first—but impossibly deep, carried on every molecule of air. It wasn't a sound; it was a vibration that clawed into their bones.
"You've been waiting…"
The words slithered through the thick air, vibrating the ground beneath their feet.
Milim clenched her fists, her lips curling into a grin. "Vorathis!" she shouted into the void. "About time you showed up!"
Guy crossed his arms, a faint smirk pulling at his lips though his eyes glowed dangerously. "So the great shadow finally crawls out. Took you long enough."
Velgrynd's tone was calm but laced with fire. "Enough games, Vorathis. If you intend to test us, then step forward."
The crimson moon overhead pulsed, almost as if it was alive, and the voice came again—louder this time, each syllable grinding like metal tearing apart.
"I see… all of you gathered. How convenient. Then…"
Then it came.
Above them, the sky split apart. Not with light—no, but with an absence so complete, so suffocating, it was as though reality itself had been peeled open. A rift, massive and jagged, burned into existence like a wound in the fabric of creation. Its edges bled with crimson lightning, arcs of distorted energy clawing outward, searing the heavens with unnatural color.
And from the heart of that abyssal tear, it emerged.
A portal—no ordinary gate, but a colossal vortex of blackened flame and pulsating shadow. It churned and writhed like a living thing, every rotation accompanied by an echoing scream, as though thousands of souls had been trapped within, their cries stretching into infinity. The pressure it released made the very air vibrate; the ground beneath them cracked, shattering like glass as the weight of the abyss pressed down upon the world.
Milim's usual wild grin faltered for the first time in ages. She tightened her fists, eyes narrowing.
"What… is this? That aura… it's not normal. It's like the world itself doesn't want it here."
Velzard crossed her arms, her icy composure wavering ever so slightly. Her breath condensed in the air, frost spreading at her feet as instinct forced her power to react.
"This… isn't just magic. This is violation. The very laws of existence are screaming."
Veldora, his golden eyes sharper than ever, let out a low hum, one filled with calculation rather than arrogance. His usual bluster was replaced with a tone befitting an elder dragon, one who had witnessed countless wars.
"…Hmph. To tear open such a door… this Vorathis is not merely reckless. He is deliberate. To summon something of this scale means he wagers everything on fear."
The portal pulsed again—boom… boom… boom—each throb like the heartbeat of a monster. Then, they came.
The first to step forth was massive—its body a writhing amalgam of scales and bone, four arms ending in claws so sharp they tore through the fabric of space with every gesture. Its eyes were pits of molten silver, leaking streams of white fire as it breathed. Behind it followed another—sleek, winged, humanoid yet inhuman, its body draped in living shadows that seemed to scream whenever light touched them.
And then another. And another. And another.
Hundreds.
Each monster carried an aura so suffocating, so vile, that even the ground blackened wherever they tread. And yet—they were not mindless beasts. No. Their gazes carried intelligence, cruelty, and hunger. Each one radiated energy on par with a True Dragon. It wasn't an army of demons. It wasn't a legion of beasts. This was a parade of nightmares, each carefully chosen, crafted, and bound to Vorathis' will.
Their auras overlapped, merged, and suffused into a storm of despair so heavy that even the sky groaned beneath it.
Guy Crimson, usually the one to mock even gods, wore a twisted grin—but it was different this time. It wasn't his normal arrogance. His eyes flickered with something dangerous—excitement mixed with unease.
"Now this… this is something. For once, I almost regret not taking things more seriously."
Diablo tilted his head back and chuckled, though his voice cracked with manic delight, his obsidian eyes shimmering.
"Magnificent…! What elegance in their malice… what overwhelming pressure! My lord, I've never seen such artistry in destruction."
Ultima let out a sharp giggle, clutching herself as if shivering from both terror and pleasure.
"Hhhnn… it hurts to breathe. But isn't that… isn't that fun? Heheheh… if we die, at least it won't be boring."
Carrera cursed under her breath, hands twitching with overwhelming energy.
"Damn it! Each of them feels like a world-ending nuke, and there's hundreds?! This is insane and yet exciting!"
Testarossa's usual composed smile faltered, but only for a second. She inhaled slowly, centering herself, then whispered.
"…So this is his trump card. An army of abominations with the aura of True Dragons. He doesn't plan to fight us himself… he plans to drown us in despair."
And then, the voice came.
Deep. Resonant. Carving itself into their minds like a blade dipped in venom.
"Rejoice, mortals."
The voice of Vorathis echoed not just through the air, but within their very souls. It was velvet and steel, a poisonous lullaby carried on thunder.
"These you see before you… are my children. My personal army. Each one born from darkness deeper than your fears, each one sharper than your courage, each one stronger than your pride. They are not mere soldiers—they are extinction embodied. They will tear apart your skies, they will poison your oceans, they will break your mountains. And when your bodies lie broken and your spirits crushed… you will know the weight of my will."
The army growled, hissed, roared in unison—a cacophony of hate that shook the heavens.
"Feel terror. Feel despair. Feel the truth of your insignificance."
The weight grew heavier. For the first time in millennia, even the great True Dragons felt the subtle touch of dread.
Above them all, unseen, Saiki floated lazily, spoon in hand, dipping it into his coffee jelly as though none of this mattered. His eyes half-lidded, expression flat, he muttered to himself.
"Yare yare… Vorathis really isn't pulling any stops, huh? Bringing out his private toys this early? Tch. Overkill. But… this might actually be entertaining."
He took another bite, watching as despair began to bleed into even the mightiest of beings below.