The first sunrise over Darknova was less an act of cosmic courtesy and more an obligatory flicker, as if the planet had rolled over, muttered something about unpaid rent, and decided to illuminate the wastelands just enough to show its contempt. The plains stretched endlessly, their black, cracked soil absorbing the bruised violet sky as though even sunlight was an enemy.
Darion Veynar perched atop a massive mechanical crate in the heart of the developing colony, boots dusty and folded arms resting on his knees. The wind carried the faint tang of molten metal and industrial activity, the kind of smell that made one nostalgic for slightly less suicidal situations.
Around him, the colony roared to life. Construction drones zipped back and forth like caffeine-addled hornets, engineers shouted instructions over the screech of fusion engines, and crews dismantled colossal spacefaring leviathans with the precision of surgeons—or the chaotic determination of toddlers dismantling a toy.
Darion's voice was calm, but with all the sarcasm of a man who had seen too much. "Oh, by the stars… he's at it again."
Inside his skull, the voice of Azhurath, the self-proclaimed Demon King, cosmic disaster, and occasional unsolicited life coach, was narrating his own version of events.
"Do you know what it's like to witness a world crumble, boy? The screaming! The molten agony! The flair! Mortals never appreciate drama at its finest! Especially not when they smell burnt hair and regret."
Darion blinked at the scene below. "Wonderful. A demon with stage critiques. Just what I needed in my life."
Nearby, Rell Tarn, muscle-bound combat specialist, observed the chaos with a mixture of awe, terror, and the faintest hint of envy. "This… this is spectacular. Absolutely horrific. And… wait—are those wings real?" He flinched as a newly transformed soldier flapped violently into a supply crate.
Azhurath's voice rang out in his mind. "Fear not, boy! Minor demons only! Playthings. They can enjoy the attributes of the demons they've inherited. Horns, claws, wings, fire-breathing tendencies… delightful!"
Darion muttered under his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. "What a menace. I've turned my men into lab rats. Truly, I have failed as their ruler."
The first batch of soldiers, injected with Symbiarch Infernum—the fusion of the Symbiarch Protocol and Azhurath's infernal essence—convulsed as phantom black flames seeped from the planet surface and intertwined with their bodies. Eyes closed, pulses racing, they blacked out for several minutes.
When they woke, the scene was… spectacularly chaotic.
One soldier doubled over as his muscles inflated grotesquely, veins black with infernal energy. Horns erupted from his forehead like twisted regal crowns. Another screeched in horror as wings burst from his back, flapping uncontrollably and knocking over a crate of machinery. A third soldier attempted a heroic roar and discovered his fangs had elongated to a dangerous, comically inconvenient degree.
Rell whistled softly. "That is… something. Definitely something."
"Panicking already?" Azhurath cackled. "Fear not! They are but minor demons. Enjoy the attributes. Learn. Grow. Laugh while you still can!"
Darion sighed, muttering, "I've created an army of ridiculous nightmares. And the cat probably deserves a medal."
Indeed, one unlucky soldier had transformed with black flames enveloping him in shadow, accidentally absorbing the very camp cat he had been smuggling. The feline, naturally unimpressed, seemed more annoyed than anything else.
Azhurath's laughter rang in Darion's mind. "See how fascinating it is? You have life… and chaos… in equal measure!"
Tentatively, the soldiers experimented with their new abilities. One retracted wings and horns mid-flap, landing gracefully on a pile of debris. Another shrank claws back into normal hands with a flourish. Yet another soldier briefly dissolved into a puddle of shadow before reconstituting himself, staring at his hands like he'd never met them before.
Rell Tarn stepped closer to Darion, arms crossed. "Did that guy just turn into a shadow puddle for a second? Are we… allowed to do that?"
Darion stared at him, expression unreadable. "Apparently. I've learned not to question minor miracles when they scream fire in my ears."
Mira Koss, clipboard in hand, observed with her usual pragmatic air. "These soldiers are beyond our previous super-soldier programs. Adaptive, deadly, fast… capable of taking on twenty conventional enhanced soldiers each, and that's assuming they don't crush themselves or each other first."
Rell's eyes darted as a pair of soldiers argued midair about whose wingspan was superior. They collided in a cloud of feathers, smoke, and sparks, leaving one dangling embarrassingly from a scaffold.
Darion muttered, "Perfect. Chaos, panic, minor destruction… and I'm supposed to lead this?"
Azhurath hummed smugly. "Oh, boy… and you enjoy it, don't you? Your brain is desperately trying to make order out of disaster. Delightful."
Meanwhile, construction of the new colony surged forward. Black-soiled plains were dotted with scaffolding, prefabricated housing, hydroponic farms, and turrets. Soldiers, testing their abilities in conjunction with their duties, lifted ship sections with ease, carved through obsidian-like soil, and cleared toxic areas with small infernal flares.
Kavik, monitoring from a floating console, called out, "Sire! Sensors detect multiple high-velocity drones in orbit. Likely scavenger spies from nearby planets. Possibly observing our progress."
Darion arched a brow. "Wonderful. The galaxy has already sent its peeping neighbors to watch us turn this wasteland into… a nightmare playground."
Some soldiers, now more confident, began experimenting with combat applications of their transformations. A recruit punched a massive boulder, reducing it to dust. Another soldier flexed claws on one hand while launching black flame arcs at a test target. A pair of recruits sparred midair, wings outstretched, circling like drunken falcons.
Rell shook his head. "I've survived war, monsters, and government experiments… and yet… this? This is new."
Mira Koss muttered, "We'll need proper testing labs. Strength evaluation. Simulation combat scenarios. This is adaptive, yes, but still chaotic."
Darion rubbed his eyes. "Lab simulations? They just turned half the camp into demons with fire powers, wings, and… shadow puddle transformations. Who needs labs?"
Azhurath interjected, clearly delighted. "Observation is sufficient. Chaos is the greatest teacher, boy. Watch them grow. Laugh. Panic. Marvel."
Some soldiers experimented further:
• One grew horns that doubled as battering spikes.
• Another created temporary claws and reshaped his muscles to lift a half-ton machine part effortlessly.
• A small group practiced short bursts of flight, tumbling, crashing, then adapting midair like demonic acrobats.
Even the practical engineers found themselves captivated. Kavik muttered, "These enhancements… remarkable. Adaptive AI fused with demonic essence. Potential for warfare is unprecedented."
Mira pinched the bridge of her nose. "Yes, yes. And also terrifying. Remember that thing that turned into a puddle? Terrifying. Absolutely terrifying."
Rell finally muttered, with an exhausted sigh, "I like my human body. I like predictable limbs. But… damn, that's cool."
Meanwhile, Darion noticed the subtle glow of infernal energy beneath the soldiers' skin, pulsing in sync with their excitement, panic, and occasional mild explosions.
"Tell me, Azhurath," Darion said, voice dry. "If all this goes sideways, do we die spectacularly?"
"Oh, yes," Azhurath said with cheer. "But if it goes right…" He hummed, a darkly comedic prelude. "…we will be magnificent. Horrifying. A symphony of chaos and fire."
The soldiers, now familiar enough with partial transformations, began testing coordination in groups. One squad tried flight maneuvers over the colony, narrowly avoiding construction cranes. Another practiced combined fire strikes and physical attacks, accidentally demolishing a temporary supply depot.
Rell muttered, "If I survive this… I'm requesting a raise. And hazard pay. And a very large bottle of whatever keeps me from screaming internally."
Darion pinched his nose again, surveying the chaos, the rising cities, and the first hints of a working colony. "I've made monsters. Glorious, terrifying, completely untrained monsters. And we're supposed to survive here. Fantastic."
Azhurath hummed, floating in his mental plane with exaggerated flair. "Oh, boy… the real work begins once the elite demons awaken. Until then… chaos, experimentation, joy. Marvelous."
High above Darknova, distant scavenger satellites traced their orbits, observing the chaos below. They had no idea that what they were witnessing was not just an army, but the birth of an entirely new breed of soldier—half-demon, half-machine, fully terrifying.
And somewhere in the infernal shadows, the planet itself seemed to sigh in approval.