The Radiant Empire no longer existed.
What had taken centuries of wars, treaties, and dynasties to build was consumed in a single night of blood and black fire.
The land where its capital once stood was nothing but a crater of ash, blood rivers congealing into rust-colored lakes. From the skies, even birds refused to fly over. The wind carried only the stench of roasted flesh and iron.
But the world beyond still lived—and it trembled.
The Broken Messenger
At dawn, a half-mad soldier stumbled into the borders of the Dawnlight Kingdom. His armor was melted into his skin, his face half-slagged from fire.
"They're all… gone," he rasped, bleeding from the eyes. "The Emperor… the council… the people… all gone. He walks in the ruin with a scythe… the skies are swords…"
He collapsed, his body disintegrating into flakes of ash.
The generals who heard him refused to speak. But the peasants whispered:
"The Devil-King has come."
The Council of Western Thrones
In the obsidian halls of the Black Sand Empire, five monarchs gathered around a crystal globe that shimmered with the faint image of the ruin.
"It cannot be one man," King Luthar hissed.
"No army could do this," replied Queen Avenelle, her jeweled fingers trembling. "Not in a night."
"Then it was no army," said the High Priest of Ash. "It was something else. Something that should not be in this world."
They argued until dawn. None dared speak Aezreal's name aloud, but each felt the truth pressing against their throats.
If the Radiant Empire could fall in one night… so could theirs.
The Sect Masters' Unease
Deep within a mountain range, the Nine-Serpent Sect convened.
"Our divinations fail," one elder spat, blood trickling from his nose. "Every attempt to read his fate snaps the threads of destiny!"
"He has surpassed the Mortal Cage," another whispered, his voice shaking.
"But this world has no Immortal gates," a third protested. "How… how did he break free?"
Silence.
At last, the Sect Master spoke:
"He is no longer bound. When he finishes… he will ascend. And when he does, the Immortal Realms will tremble."
The elders shivered. For the first time in centuries, none dared boast of their sect's power.
The Orphans' Tale
In the ruins of a border village, children huddled around a fire.
"My uncle saw him," one whispered. "A man with eyes like burning blood. His scythe sang, and everyone died."
"No," said another. "My father said he was a dragon, walking in man's flesh. The fire fell from the sky when his pet roared."
"You're both wrong," a girl whispered, voice thin as a thread. "He is death. And death doesn't die."
None slept that night.
The Demon Realm's Whisper
Far beyond the Mortal Cage, in the Immortal World, the Demon Lords stirred.
"The blood stinks of him," one snarled.
"He grows too fast," said another, their horns glinting in the void.
A third licked their lips. "Let him rise. We will tear him apart above, where no cage protects him."
But in the silence between their words, even they felt the unease. He had already reached for powers meant for Immortals. And he had tasted victory.
The Dragons' Roar
In the Immortal World's northern skies, the Dragon Clan's holy mountain shook.
"He awakens the Sword," an ancient wyrm muttered, scales trembling. "The line of our betrayed blood lives within him."
"You fear him?" another hissed.
"I fear what he will become. Demon scythe. Dragon sword. If he unites the two, even gods will bleed."
The dragons roared, a sound that cracked clouds across realms. Mortals mistook it for thunder.
The Mortal World's Fear
Every empire, every sect, every tavern now carried the same whispers.
"The Radiant Empire is gone."
"One night. One man."
"A devil in human flesh."
Fear spread like disease. Kings tightened borders, sects fortified their mountains, and peasants prayed louder than ever.
But none of it mattered.
For Aezreal had already chosen his next step.
On the Crater's Edge
Amidst the ruin, where millions had died, Aezreal stood with Nyx.
The scythe rested across his back, the sword intent coiled within his blood like a sleeping dragon.
He looked at the ash-filled horizon, listening to the faint echoes of prayers, curses, and terror.
"Good," he said quietly. "Let them fear. Fear spreads faster than fire."
Nyx purred, her scales glimmering with bloodlight. "The world kneels already. All that remains is the crown."
Aezreal's lips curved into something colder than a smile.
"Then we take it."