In the very beginning, the void begat darkness, darkness begat Chaos, and then Chaos begat life. Chaos created seven realms to pour herself into, for she was too powerful to exist as one. Ever since, chaos has never been heard from again. Perhaps she was a myth. Perhaps the creation of the realms was, too. Perhaps they had always been there.
Two realms—the celestial and the abyssal—blessed with unique power and superior genes, seized control of the others in no time. All except the mortal realm; it was barren, allotted only a meager share of chaos's power, and therefore deemed utterly useless. Then the two turned on each other and began to war.
Decades, centuries, millennia, tens of millennia, hundreds of millennia passed. No one could even remember why the war had started. Perhaps they wished to expand their dominion. Perhaps they sought to annihilate their opponents and stand as undisputed superiors. Or perhaps the mere sight of their enemies vexed them, for they were two sides of the same coin—so different, yet bound together. The war became the norm. The celestials always happened to have the upper hand, until the appearance of god-tier demons: the demon lords.
The abyssal realm, after years of study and experiment, pioneered the first summoning magic. By summoning a mortal, they granted them god-tier abilities—enough to lead the demons against the celestials and win the war with ease. And hence the legend: once every hundred years, a demon lord is born.
The celestials knew nothing of this. Millennia passed. The abyssal realm drew very close to completely decimating the celestials; they had already annexed realms formerly under celestial control. A new demon lord was born—more aggressive, skilled in the art of war. The celestials, having investigated the appearances of the demon lords, determined that they were mortals summoned from their own realm. They discovered summoning magic, too, but the thought of it seemed silly. Mortals? they thought, looking at them, they're evolving over the years—they're more intelligent, more civilized. That was what they told themselves. They thought they should give it a try, and they gave themselves excuses. In reality, they had no choice; the demons had stripped them of all control over the lesser realms. The next battle would take place in their own realm.
They decided they would give him their realm to rule, if it meant destroying the demons and defeating the demon lord—both of whom had terrorized them for almost an eternity.
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The Battle of Kursk
Location: The Kursk Oblast, Russia (near the border of modern-day Ukraine)
Date: August 19, 1943
Karl was a German soldier fighting in the war—barely a teenager, yet already a lieutenant. Skilled in tactical leadership, he had waged war for the Third Reich, won battles in its honor, but now he was in deep trouble. The Battle of Kursk was a disaster for the Germans, second only to the Battle of Stalingrad. His plan had failed woefully.
Karl blamed his subordinates. They had grown jealous and tired of seeing Adolf praise him. He is but a boy , they always thought to themselves. They sabotaged him—after all, he could not command without loyal supporters to carry out his orders. Jokes on them , Karl thought. They're dead now, too.
The battle had turned grim. He lay on ground already soaked with fighting, already shot, dying from his wound and the cold. I wish I had the opportunity to conquer the world for Führer Adolf , he thought. If I get another chance, I'll stop at nothing until I conquer and conquer—even if there is no reason to it.
In his final moments, a flash of light. A transmigration circle appeared beneath him, and then he was gone.
"Lord Isaiah, the mortal has been summoned."
A celestial serving under Isaiah the Faithful—a well-known figure in the celestial realm and its regent—came to tell him as he sat in his parlor.
"I'm coming to see."
In no time, he entered a grand hall with designs one finds in churches, that kind of architecture being one of their prides as celestials. Too grand was the hall that the dying Karl thought it was heaven. No one dared touch him—not the summoners, numbering about a hundred; not the presiding arch-celestial and general, Michael; not arch-celestial and general Uriel; not Princess Hana of the royal family—though all were in attendance and aware of Karl's situation. They waited for Isaiah.
"Clean him up. He looks like a rag," Isaiah said, sighing as he began to leave the hall. That will help us wage war against the demons? Unbelievable , he thought to himself. I'll have to get rid of him if he turns out to be a failure—to preserve our reputation.