The eastern wastelands screamed.
Not with sound—but with distortion.
The sky above the barren land twisted into unnatural spirals as three Abyssal Gates tore themselves open, vomiting black mist that devoured light itself. The ground rotted, stone turning brittle, life withering in seconds.
From within the mist, figures emerged.
Clawed limbs. Twisted horns. Eyes burning with hunger.
Demons.
Imperial scouts stationed miles away felt their souls tremble the moment the gates stabilized. Some collapsed instantly, blood streaming from their noses. Others barely managed to activate emergency flares before losing consciousness.
Within minutes, the alarm spread.
"Abyssal breach confirmed!"
"Multiple entities—hostile!"
"Send word to the capital!"
---
The response was immediate.
Imperial Legions moved with terrifying efficiency. Formations activated, banners unfurled, ancient runes ignited along armor and weapons. These were not ordinary soldiers—they were veterans of countless demon incursions.
Yet when the first legion reached the wastelands, they froze.
The demons were… bowing.
Hundreds of them knelt before the largest gate, their grotesque bodies trembling in reverence.
Then—
The mist parted.
Something stepped forward.
It was humanoid in shape, cloaked in living darkness, its presence alone crushing the will of lesser demons. Crimson eyes swept across the battlefield, intelligent and ancient.
A Demon Lord.
One of the legion commanders gritted his teeth. "Formation! Do not engage recklessly!"
The Demon Lord's gaze shifted.
Not toward the soldiers.
But toward the distant capital.
Toward Aurelius Valen.
A low chuckle escaped its lips.
"So it's true," it murmured. "The World Emperor has finally angered the heavens."
The demon raised one hand.
The kneeling horde rose as one.
"Advance," it commanded softly.
Hell moved.
---
At the same moment, Aurelius stood within the deepest chamber beneath the Imperial Palace.
The World Throne loomed before him—an ancient structure carved directly from the planet's core. Cracks of golden and black light pulsed across its surface, responding to his presence.
The guardians formed a circle around him, blood sigils igniting beneath their feet.
"The ritual has begun," one said grimly. "Divine surveillance is intensifying."
Aurelius placed his hand on the throne.
The world shuddered.
Memories not his own flooded his mind—previous emperors, forgotten wars, worlds that had failed to resist the heavens.
All of them had knelt.
Aurelius did not.
"Report," he ordered calmly.
A projection formed before him, showing the eastern wastelands.
The Demon Lord.
The marching horde.
"So the Abyss moves already," Aurelius said. "They're faster than the gods."
One guardian frowned. "Should we intervene personally?"
"No," Aurelius replied.
The guardians stiffened.
"This is a test," he continued. "For them—and for us."
His eyes sharpened.
"If humanity cannot withstand the opening waves, then they do not deserve the future I am about to steal from the gods."
Far above, in the heavens—
A circular mirror of divine light reflected the same battlefield.
Several thrones observed in silence.
"Interesting," a goddess said softly. "He allows the Abyss to advance."
"He seeks to harden his world," another replied coldly. "Or perhaps… to prove a point."
A third voice laughed.
"Let the demons bleed him," it said. "When he begs for divine intervention, we will decide the price."
They waited.
In the wastelands, the first clash erupted.
Imperial magic collided with Abyssal corruption. The ground exploded. Screams echoed as soldiers and demons alike were torn apart.
Blood soaked the land.
And yet—
From the capital, Aurelius Valen watched without emotion.
Because this was only the beginning.
The gods believed they were still in control.
The demons believed chaos favored them.
Both were wrong.
The world was choosing its emperor.
And it would be baptized in war.
---