Several days earlier…
When the golden-white light of the Origin Net first began spreading across the galaxy, an unseen ripple traveled through the deep void.
Far beyond the reaches of the galactic routes, beyond the starlit borders of the empires, there existed a region of broken gravity and twisted stars.
A place where the void howled.
Here, time bent.
Here, the light of suns could not reach.
And here, the Demon Empire thrived.
...
A fortress the size of a moon drifted at the edge of the Demon Empire, carved from black iron and pulsing with veins of red energy.
Around it floated legions of black warships, their runes dripping with blood-light.
Every few seconds, faint screams could be heard, the echoes of captured life, essence being drained to fuel the fortress.
Inside, in a high chamber layered with obsidian mirrors and carved bones, a demon knelt.
He was tall, skeletal, and humanoid, his skin obsidian and veined with crimson light. Twin horns curled backward from his skull like a crown, and his eyes, black pools rimmed with molten gold, stared into a swirling basin of liquefied mana.
This was Xylos, a Seer, one of the ancient demon castes capable of reading the ripples of life and essence across the void.
For hours, he had been conducting his daily scrying ritual, reading the void for life.
Normally, the process was predictable, faint signatures of distant stars, the occasional scream from the frontlines, the dull pulse of battles between clans.
But then… something changed.
He froze, fingers clawing at the basin's edge.
The surface of the mana pool rippled violently. He felt a radiant pulse of life.
He reached deeper, tasting the energy in the void currents.
There it was again.
A massive concentration of life.
Hundreds of billions of lesser beings, and amidst them, dozens of Stellar essences burning like small suns.
All outside of galactic routes.
Xylos' eyes widened, and a tremor ran through his body, his tongue flicking out. "...So bright," he whispered, trembling. "So rich."
This was not the faint signature of a stellar patrol. This was a gathering. Dozens of Stellar auras. Hundreds of billions of living beings. Each one pulsing with mana, essence, life.
A feast.
...
Moments later, Xylos rushed into the command sanctum.
The chamber was vast, lined with cracked black pillars. Chains hung from the ceiling, each bearing the skulls of fallen Stellar warriors, trophies of wars long past.
At the far end sat a towering figure, half-shrouded in shadow.
Two horns curved back from his temples, and molten cracks ran down his arms where two distinct essences intertwined, fire and shadow.
This was Kraxis, one of the Demon Lords, beings who had mastered two essences and ruled a sector of the Demon Empire.
He lounged lazily on his throne, eyes half-closed as reports flickered before him, trivial data from the frontlines.
"My lord!" Xylos fell to one knee, breath ragged. "I bring a vision from the void!"
Kraxis raised one brow. "Another dying star, perhaps?"
"No, my lord. A beacon."
At that word, Kraxis stirred.
"Speak."
Xylos bowed lower. "A feast of life has gathered… outside the Aethelian Empire's galactic routes. I sensed dozens of Stellar presences… A pulse of essence so bright I could feel it even through the Scar."
Kraxis' expression shifted from boredom to interest. "Outside the routes? How curious. What would drive so many there?"
"I do not know, my lord," Xylos rasped. "But it is no illusion. It calls to every Seer across the demon empire. A beacon too bright to be ignored."
Silence fell.
Then Kraxis rose from his throne, towering over him. For the first time in decades, a smile crept across his face.
"Then they have gathered a feast for us in their ignorance." His voice rumbled through the fortress, shaking the chains overhead.
He turned toward the viewing portal, where distant stars flickered beyond the twisted void.
"It's been centuries since I've hunted personally," he mused, voice deep and amused. "Perhaps it's time they remember my name."
He glanced back at Xylos, eyes blazing. "Summon the fleet. Prepare the war drums."
"It would be… rude not to attend."
Xylos looked up, hesitant. "My lord, it is… vast. I have never seen such a gathering outside the frontlines."
"Perfect," Kraxis chuckled.
At once, horns sounded through the fortress. Deep, resonant blasts that shook the obsidian walls and sent tremors through the hanging chains.
All across the fortress, the orders spread.
Drums began to thunder, a rhythmic pounding that matched the pulse of bloodlust rising in every demon heart.
The cavernous hangars erupted into motion as thousands of lesser demons swarmed into their vessels, disciplined despite their feral appearance, each one an SSS-rank warrior.
They were intelligent, vicious, and organized, not mindless beasts, but soldiers who had slaughtered their way through countless battlefields.
Demon Commanders, single-essence Stellar beings, stood atop their warships, roaring commands to their legions.
"A feast awaits us!" one bellowed, his form wreathed in corrosive green light.
"Follow the scent of life! Drown the stars in their blood!" another roared, shadow essence coiling around his limbs.
The lesser demons responded with roars that shook the hangars, their weapons raised high.
"My Lord Kraxis," one commander saluted, "The warships are ready."
Kraxis descended from his throne, his aura dimming the fires around him until only cold darkness remained. "Then let us feast."
The commanders roared in unison, fists slamming against their chests.
From every hangar, the black ships began to move, not in elegant formations like the empire fleets, but like predators breaking from a cage, hungry and savage.
Inside, demons howled in frenzy, their chants overlapping in a thousand voices that merged into a single terrible hymn.
"Feast! Feast! Feast!"
The sound built into a crescendo that echoed through the void itself, a promise of slaughter carried on dark currents.
...
Kraxis stood at the forefront of his flagship, a vessel the size of a small moon.
His dual essences of fire and shadow rippled around him, intertwining in patterns that defied natural law, each feeding the other in an endless cycle of destruction.
"Xylos," he said, his voice calm amidst the chaos, a stark contrast to the madness surrounding him.
"My lord?" The Seer approached, bowing low.
"Guide us, follow the scent, let the beacon lead the way."
"Yes, my lord." Xylos closed his eyes, reaching out with his essence, tasting the void currents until he found it again, that brilliant pulse of concentrated life.
The fleet shifted course, all ships orienting toward a single point in the distant void, their movements synchronized despite the apparent chaos.
A direction that led straight toward Origin Capital, though Kraxis did not yet know the name of his destination.
Kraxis looked ahead, his grin widening until it split his face.
He raised his hand, energy bursting from his palm.
"Feast well, my kin." His voice carried across every ship through essence alone, reaching every demon simultaneously. "The brightest lights… will bleed the sweetest!"
And with that, the Demon Fleet surged forward, tearing through the void.
Behind them, the fortress dimmed as its energy reserves were channeled into propulsion, every scrap of power devoted to reaching the feast.
The demons were coming toward the Origin Capital.