This is a record of the war.
A long, drawn-out conflict that had stretched across centuries—a heavenly game played by beings who stood above the world. It was a contest of supremacy on earth, fought indirectly between a Demon Lord and an Emperor, their wills clashing through nations, armies, and countless lives.
But to the Scorch Dragon Velgrynd, that game was meaningless.
She had never cared for it.
To Velgrynd, such roundabout schemes were nothing but cowardice dressed as intelligence. If one wished to decide a victor, then they should fight directly. Win, or die. That was all there was to it. Compared to that, a game that dragged on for thousands of years, bound by the childish rule of no direct confrontation, was nothing more than a nuisance.
Yet despite her dissatisfaction, the truth remained unchanged.
Neither Guy Crimson nor Emperor Rudra had been able to settle things face-to-face.
They had fought before—more than once—but never to a decisive end. Their power was too great, their clashes too destructive. The world itself would not survive if they truly went all out. And so, this absurd game was born.
Velgrynd endured it only because Rudra wished to win.
If he desired victory, she would lend him her strength. If he called upon her, she would burn the world for him. That much had never changed.
Still—
This game is disadvantageous.
Velgrynd knew it.
Guy Crimson's greatest strength was not himself—it was Velzard, the Frost Dragon. As long as Velzard existed, Guy always held a hidden trump card. Conversely, if Velgrynd could somehow defeat Velzard, Rudra would gain an overwhelming advantage.
But that was precisely the problem.
Velgrynd could not defeat Velzard.
They were natural opposites—heat and ice, acceleration and absolute stagnation. If they fought seriously, there would be no true winner.
At best, both would fall together. At worst, Velgrynd alone would be forced into reincarnation.
And reincarnation meant loss.
Even if memories carried over, the self would be gone.
Velgrynd feared that—not for her own existence, but for one reason alone.
Rudra.
If she were reborn, would she still love him the same way?
That thought terrified her.
She almost laughed at herself for clinging so desperately to something as fragile as love, yet she could not let it go. For Rudra's sake, absolute victory was required. Anything less risked everything.
That was why she needed insurance.
And that insurance was supposed to be Veldora.
Honestly… that idiot is such a pain.
Velgrynd frowned inwardly.
Veldora should have rampaged by now. That was his nature. Chaos, destruction, instinct. Ever since his unsealing, she had expected him to tear through the world as he always had.
Yet he didn't.
Instead, he hid.
Not only that—he aligned himself with the new ruler of Eterna.
Atem.
When Velgrynd learned that Veldora had not only allied with Atem, but had entered his domain and even remained under his authority, she suspected her younger brother had finally lost his mind.
And yet—
The Imperial expedition had marched with nearly a million soldiers. Any sane being would expect Veldora to respond. Rudra himself had planned for it. Fear, despair, annihilation—those conditions were ideal.
Because Rudra did not value armies.
He valued survivors.
Those who endured despair without breaking. Those who faced annihilation and still stood.
Only such beings could transcend humanity and awaken to higher power.
Even if an army of a million died, it was acceptable—so long as a handful awakened.
That was Rudra's philosophy.
Velgrynd shared it.
That was why intelligence had been selectively withheld. Why corps commanders were allowed to believe in victory. Their confidence, their arrogance, their ignorance—it all served a purpose.
From Velgrynd's perspective, it was almost amusing.
An army reinforced by science could never defeat a True Dragon.
Never.
Mass death was inevitable.
But mass death bred awakening.
That was the plan.
How many will awaken this time?
How many will receive Rudra's power?
Velgrynd had looked forward to the outcome.
She had been certain the result would follow the same pattern as before.
She was wrong.
What awaited her was not awakening.
Not survivors.
Not evolution.
It was annihilation.
The Imperial expedition did not fall to Veldora.
It vanished.
Erased—cleanly, decisively, without struggle.
No despair.
No survivors.
No hope.
No awakening.
The board itself had been overturned.
And at the center of it all stood a single existence—one who did not play the game.
Atem.
"All wiped out?"
Velgrynd's voice was calm, but the weight behind the words was unmistakable.
"Hmph. I was surprised too," Rudra replied. "It's been a long time since I've seen that expression on your face."
"Do not joke," Velgrynd said coldly. "I did not expect a defeat so absolute that not a single survivor remained. If that is the case, then we failed completely. Not one awakened being was obtained."
The true purpose of the expedition had never been conquest.
It was selection.
Generals were meant to struggle. Despair was meant to crush them. From that pressure, at least one awakened individual—worthy of becoming an Imperial Knight—was supposed to emerge. That had always been the Empire's method.
Yet this time, there were no survivors.
Not even one.
That made the outcome worse than if Veldora had simply rampaged. Human evolution required survival. Only those who lived through absolute despair—those who brushed against the world's ultimate power and still endured—could awaken.
A million soldiers had marched out for that very reason.
Now, every single one of them was gone.
Worse still, several Imperial Knights secretly
embedded within the expedition had vanished as well. Years of preparation. Rare resources. All lost in one stroke.
"Well, that's how it is," Rudra said flatly.
Velgrynd felt irritation rise—but it vanished the moment she looked into Rudra's eyes.
There was no indifference there.
Only frustration.
Pure, burning frustration.
She understood immediately. Rudra felt the same rage she did. And so, Velgrynd adjusted her thinking.
The loss of a legion meant little to her. Failure could be tolerated—if it produced results. But this time, something far more dangerous had revealed itself.
Whoever erased an army of a million could not be ignored.
"So," Velgrynd asked, regaining her composure, "was it that brat again? Veldora?"
She expected that answer.
Veldora had done it before. Farmus' army of twenty thousand had been erased without resistance. At the time, details were unclear—but now was different. As Marshal, Velgrynd expected full intelligence.
Rudra had learned first only because of his authority.
Velgrynd waited confidently.
In her estimation, Veldora would never miss an opportunity to rampage. A million soldiers marching into the Great Jura Forest should have drawn him out immediately. She had even planned to observe his growth—whether he could now suppress his aura completely.
Despite his foolishness, Veldora was her brother.
And she cared about his progress.
"That is not the case," Rudra said. "And more importantly—we don't have a clear picture of what happened."
Velgrynd frowned.
Rudra explained everything he knew. The crushing defeat in the opening engagement. The disappearance of those who entered the labyrinth. The city-level magical annihilation. Calgurio's awakening. The complete destruction of the Armored Corps.
Step by step.
Detail by detail.
When he finished, Velgrynd stared at him.
"You're lying," she said quietly.
"It's the truth," Rudra replied. "The remaining primordials are aligned with the ruler of Eterna. If those demons are acting freely, then Veldora had no role to play at all."
Silence fell.
Then Velgrynd spoke again.
"So the balance of the game has shifted," she said slowly. "But you still haven't told me—what did Guy want?"
Rudra gave a bitter chuckle.
"Guy told me to stop the game," he said. "And to stop the war—if I value my life."
Velgrynd froze.
Rudra continued, his tone casual, almost mocking.
"He said Atem has already defeated him twice. Easily. And that if I don't back down, I'll be erased."
For a moment, Velgrynd couldn't speak.
Someone… defeated that demon lord?
Twice?
With ease?
"And now he wants us to stop the war?" Velgrynd said, disbelief leaking into her voice. "I don't believe it."
Rudra laughed softly. "I don't either. Guy may have lost his edge. Nothing—and no one—will stop my conquest."
Velgrynd said nothing, but her thoughts raced.
They had waited for centuries. Carefully building power. Never rushing. Never gambling.
And yet, in an instant, someone had amassed an unimaginable force.
A presence no one had accounted for.
Atem.
King of Eterna.
Now there was no avoiding it.
Velgrynd felt it deep in her bones.
"So when you say you don't have a clear picture," she said at last, "you mean you can't see inside the labyrinth."
"Yes," Rudra admitted. "Even with my authority, I cannot breach Ramiris' domain."
Velgrynd nodded.
The Fairy of the Labyrinth was untouchable. Not a player. Not a piece. Not part of the board.
Until now.
This time, Ramiris had openly sided with Eterna.
Velgrynd clicked her tongue inwardly. That power—to block all observation—was troublesome.
"She's lost her role as mediator, hasn't she?"
"Yes. Until recently, I could observe through Bernie and Jiwu. Then—nothing."
"So she cut off your vision."
Rudra nodded.
Velgrynd exhaled slowly.
They were blind.
And that meant danger.
"There are powerful beings hiding within that labyrinth," Velgrynd said. "The most notable is my brother. But I wonder… how much he's been changed by this new king."
"I doubt Veldora would quietly follow anyone," Rudra replied. "Not even under compulsion."
Velgrynd agreed.
Veldora defied even his sisters. Binding him by force was impossible. Which raised a terrifying question.
If Veldora obeyed Atem willingly… then what kind of being was Atem?
Velgrynd tried to imagine it.
She failed.
"We'll have to hear it from him directly," she said.
Rudra laughed softly. "I came to the same conclusion."
The ruler of Eterna could no longer be ignored.
Given how he had drawn primordials to his side—and erased an army without survivors—it was clear Veldora was under his influence in some form.
They would have to pull him away from Guy's side.
"Now is the time to move," Velgrynd said. "Our plan failed. Guy may have backed down."
"Agreed," Rudra replied. "We abandon subtlety."
Velgrynd smiled.
Rudra was resolved.
The quiet phase was over.
With this momentum, she would take control of Veldora herself. Crush the ruler of Eterna. Then force a final confrontation with Guy.
"Leave it to me," Velgrynd said. "I'll move first. All you'll need to do is gather the remains."
Rudra nodded—confident, absolute.
No matter how troublesome the primordials were, a True Dragon stood above them all.
Others might interfere—but if she acted personally, nothing else mattered.
"Shall I make some fools bleed as a warm-up?" Velgrynd asked lightly.
The rebels plotting against the Emperor had grown arrogant. They had been tolerated until now.
That tolerance was ending.
But Rudra surprised her.
"No. I want them alive."
Velgrynd blinked. "That's unusual."
"Kondou has a plan," Rudra said. "He wants to draw Guy's attention with a larger conflict."
Velgrynd nodded slowly. Humane or not, the logic was sound.
She did not love humans.
She did not hate them either.
But those who betrayed Rudra were unforgivable.
"Very well," she said. "So what is Kondou's plan?"
"We'll discuss that later," Rudra replied. "First, we revise our strategy."
Velgrynd understood immediately.
"No more two-pronged approach."
"Correct. We withdraw. The attack on Luminous is postponed."
"Once we secure Veldora, the rest is trivial," Velgrynd said. "I'll recall Gladius and the others."
"Can you do that?"
"Of course. We'll purge the rebels and take Dwargon as well. That should keep Guy's eyes elsewhere."
The plan was set.
Velgrynd rose to her feet.
For the first time in thousands of years, she was moving in earnest.
And so—quietly, without warning—the curtain rose on a coming calamity.
A calamity later remembered as—
The Purge of the Red Lotus.