The night was too quiet.
The silence was alive — filled with something breathing, watching.
They moved closer to the sound.
A wet, sneering noise came from somewhere behind the bushes.
No one dared to lower their guard.
Then it came.
A creature — twisted, unknown to all existence — crawled out from the dark, its body trembling with fury.
Its presence alone made the air heavy, thick with killing instinct.
"What the— Icabod, run!!!"
Diablo's voice cracked through the night.
The beast leapt.
In one swift motion, his blade sliced through its throat, dark blood splattering the leaves.
But there was no time to breathe.
More of them came — dozens — bursting from the shadows with inhuman shrieks.
"Icabod!" Tacha shouted. "Now… touch me!"
Icabod's eyes widened, but he obeyed.
The moment his hand met hers, a surge of cold light erupted between them — her power flowing into him like liquid ice.
Frost spread across the ground.
The temperature dropped sharply as they stood side by side, their combined aura freezing everything in sight.
Icabod moved instinctively, forming blades of ice with a thought.
Though untrained, his control rivaled Tacha's.
Raw power pulsed through him — untamed, wild — while Tacha's magic flowed like art.
Together, they fought.
Each strike shattered the night; each breath came with frost and fury.
For them, it was a desperate struggle.
But for Diablo… it was something else entirely.
It's been so long, he thought, parrying another creature's claw. So long since I fought like this… since I felt alive.
Above the chaos, the clouds shifted.
A shadow hovered — a human shape, still and silent.
The creatures froze.
Even the wind seemed to kneel before his presence.
There was no doubt — this was the one controlling them.
"You kids!" Diablo barked. "Get out of here, now!"
"But, Dad—" Tacha's voice broke. "We can't leave you!"
"It'll be okay, dear." He smiled softly, eyes never leaving the sky.
"Just go. Take care of Icabod for me, will you?"
Tacha's lip trembled, but she nodded. She grabbed Icabod's wrist and pulled him away.
Within seconds, the forest swallowed them both.
The air grew still again.
"Hey!" Diablo called, tilting his head toward the hovering figure. "You ready?"
No answer.
The figure descended slowly, the air rippling around him. Diablo felt it — a weight pressing down on his chest, not fear… something deeper.
In a blink, the man vanished.
Then — impact.
He reappeared mid-strike, moving faster than human sight. Diablo twisted aside, the blow grazing his cheek before he retaliated — a crushing kick to the stranger's head.
The man crashed through a nearby building, debris erupting like thunder.
Dust settled.
From the wreckage, the stranger walked out unscathed, his expression calm — too calm.
"Who are you," Diablo demanded, "and what's your goal?"
The man stopped, his gaze cold and heavy with power.
"Ego sum Duminator Mundi," he said, his voice echoing through the night.
"I am the Tamer of the World."
He stepped closer, eyes glinting like fractured glass.
"I am Liezen… the World Manipulated. Number Six among the Eternal Six."
Diablo's grip tightened around his sword.
A cold sweat ran down his neck as the air thickened.
At a time like this…? he thought. His aura alone could choke the air itself. But why is he here now?
Above them, the clouds churned — lightning cracking through the sky like veins of light.
The world itself seemed to hold its breath.
And then, in that silence, two forces stood — ancient, unyielding, destined to clash.
---
Liezen's power stood far above any human comprehension. Each of his movements was precise, effortless—like an artist painting death.
Diablo, the man known to stand at the pinnacle of humanity, fought with everything he had. Yet every clash only seemed to feed Liezen's strength.
Steel met darkness.
Again.
And again.
And again.
The world shook under the weight of their blows.
Sparks erupted in the air, turning the night into a storm of light and shadow. Diablo's muscles screamed, his body trembling from the sheer force of impact—but his eyes never faltered.
There's no way I'll show fear now.
Not in front of him. Not ever.
For Diablo, pride was more than emotion—it was his very existence.
But as they clashed once more, something changed.
The air grew colder. He felt it—the impossible pressure.
Liezen's expression never shifted. He merely raised his gaze to the heavens, calm and almost detached. Then, without emotion, he spoke the words that would end the night.
---
Liezen:
> "Legio Animarum Infinitum."
---
The world froze.
Every sound vanished.
And then… it began.
Shadows peeled away from corpses, from the living, even from the air itself.
Each one twisted, contorted, and hardened into a human shape—empty-eyed replicas bound by unseen strings of black light.
They moved in silence, perfectly synchronized, like one vast organism breathing through a single lung—his.
A dark pulse rippled through the land.
Every soul Liezen had ever touched—dead, dreaming, or forgotten—was dragged back into existence.
Some screamed as they were forced into hollow bodies.
Others only stared blankly, their consciousness erased, their will dissolved.
Above them, the sky darkened, the clouds bleeding into a swirling black void.
The air itself seemed to kneel.
And at the center of it all… stood Liezen.
His hand rose slowly, like a conductor commanding an orchestra. Invisible threads of energy radiated from his palm—stretching across cities, mountains, continents.
Billions of puppets stood motionless, their eyes glowing faintly.
Not one heart beat without his permission.
Not one thought existed outside his will.
When he finally spoke, his voice echoed through every mouth in the legion—millions of voices becoming one divine tone.
---
Liezen:
> "I am Liezen… the World Manipulated."
"You will move only when I command."
---
No summoning circles.
No radiant light.
Just silence—and the crushing truth that everything now belonged to him.
This was no spell of destruction.
It was dominion.
Absolute, irreversible, eternal.
Even Diablo—who had never known fear—felt it now.
His chest tightened as if the very air rejected him.
He looked at the endless army spreading across the horizon—each puppet once a living soul—and clenched his fists until blood dripped from his palms.
So this… is his true power…
Legio Animarum Infinitum—the Infinite Legion of Souls.
---
And for the first time in his life, the pinnacle of humanity realized what it meant to face a god.