---
⚡⚡⚡ CONTINUATION ⚡⚡⚡
"Stand back," Admiral Damien said firmly, stopping Monique's spell with a raised hand. His voice carried calm authority—but his eyes glimmered with something darker.
A wicked grin crept across his face. "Let me deal with them."
Without hesitation, he stepped off the cliff and plunged downward, landing with a thunderous impact that cracked the earth beneath him.
The Fairy battalions gasped. His act of defiance was either courage—or suicide. In their eyes, humans, even Admirals, were frail things. They could not fathom what they were about to witness.
The Flehruens, grotesque beasts born from the black blood of Megga Roth, surged forward—snarling, twisting, their claws hungering for flesh.
"Let's get this over with," Damien muttered. His shirt ignited into flame, searing away as crimson runes blazed to life across his body. The ground trembled beneath his awakening aura.
From the cliffs above, Admiral Nerrec's eyes widened.
"He's releasing it… The power of the Eternal Abomination."
The first Flehruen lunged, its claws descending like scythes—only for its head to detonate as Damien's fist connected, the shockwave rippling through the valley.
Another beast leapt, shrieking, but Damien raised a single hand.
A beam of red annihilation burst forth, slicing the monster cleanly in half.
Damien's voice deepened, echoing with something inhuman.
"Let's be quick with this."
He roared—and from his mouth erupted a maelstrom of red energy, a dragon's breath of destruction that engulfed the battlefield. The blast incinerated the horde, melting the stone itself into rivers of magma.
When silence returned, smoke coiled around him like a crown. The runes faded slowly, leaving trails of light on his skin.
"I think we're done here," Damien said, brushing off ash as if it were dust.
All around, the Fairies stood frozen. Awe replaced arrogance.
"So this… this is but one Admiral?" whispered Supreme Commander Lidra.
"If that's true, then these men are no longer human. They are monsters forged by war."
Across the wasteland, the banners of Megga Roth fell. Horns blared in retreat. Black portals opened, swallowing the enemy armies one after another until the field was empty.
"They're leaving! We've won!" cried Randall, raising his sword.
But Admiral Nerrec's expression darkened. "No," he said coldly. "This isn't victory. This is repositioning. They've seen enough… and they're planning something far worse."
As he spoke, the clouds above twisted into a spiral—something ancient stirring beyond mortal reach.
---
👹👹👹 ELSEWHERE 👹👹👹
In the grand Manor of House Jacque, the air was tense with expectation. Crystal monitors shimmered before the gathered nobles, displaying glimpses of the Trial of Bloodlines—a rite that few survived.
At its center fought Seravyn Jacque, heir to the family's ancient magic.
Her breath came in sharp bursts as she dodged a storm of lightning and claws. Surrounding her were five A-Rank magical beasts, each a predator of legend.
"Persistent pests," she hissed, twisting aside as one lunged. A deep cut opened across her shoulder, but she only smiled through the pain.
"I have just the magic to erase you vermin."
Her mana spiked—violet flames spiraling upward.
EMPRIXIS MAGIC: DESTROYER'S SEAL — BREAKDOWN!
A blazing pentagram ignited beneath her enemies. Ancient glyphs spiraled outward as the beasts screamed, their forms disintegrating into shards of mana.
Only their glowing cores remained, floating before her.
"Perfect. These will forge weapons worthy of House Jacque," she said, collecting the cores into her satchel.
Venturing deeper, she entered a vast hall lined with ornate coffins, each engraved with sigils older than civilization.
She reached for one—
—but a radiant spirit appeared, its form composed of golden mist.
"Fear not," it said in a gentle, echoing voice. "I am the Guardian of Origanum, and this is the sacred chamber of choosing. You may claim only three coffins."
Seravyn smirked. "Only three? Then I'll make them count."
She circled slowly, eyes scanning the intricate carvings.
"I'll take this one…" she pointed to a crimson coffin, its lid pulsing like a heartbeat.
"And this one…" her gaze fell upon a white coffin marked with the serpent's eye.
"For the last…" she stopped before a coffin wrapped in lotus vines. "You. You're calling to me."
As her fingers touched the lid, the room collapsed into light—
—and when she opened her eyes, she was standing in an endless forest of silver trees, fruits glowing like stars. The air shimmered with mana.
"This is… another trial?" she muttered, drawing her blade.
The forest whispered her name.
---
💀💀💀 HARLEM: U.S.A 💀💀💀
Far from the realms of magic, in a quiet New York office, Dr. Finn signed his last file for the evening.
A knock echoed through the door.
"Come in," he said, glancing up.
A young nurse entered—Kate, holding a folder tightly to her chest.
"Ah, Kate," Finn said warmly. "What brings you here?"
"I need your signature, sir," she said, handing over the file.
He opened it, brows furrowing. "Transfer request? Why the sudden move?"
"It's… personal," she said softly.
He nodded, signed, and handed it back. "Take care of yourself."
She smiled faintly—and left.
Hours later, Finn drove through the quiet streets of Harlem, city lights blurring across the windshield. Then—
A blinding explosion of light erupted ahead. His car swerved violently, crashing into a tree.
From the wreckage emerged a man—but not Finn.
"Hehehe… how long has it been since I walked this realm?"
Bael stretched, his crimson eyes glowing beneath the night. The air around him warped with infernal heat.
Four women appeared on the street, descending in a spiral of silver light—each holding a staff crowned with celestial flame.
A forcefield shimmered into existence, warping reality to keep human eyes away.
Bael grinned. "The Guardians of Grin'Tarma… I didn't think you'd be foolish enough to chase me into the mortal plane."
"Your corruption ends tonight, Bael," they spoke in unison, voices echoing like church bells in a storm.
Bael laughed—a sound that made the stars flicker.
"Then come, witches. Let's see if your holy fire can burn a god of ruin."
Their sigils blazed to life. Bael's wings unfurled—vast and dark as a collapsing sun.
And as the night screamed, the first strike fell—
a clash that tore open the veil between worlds.