CHAPTER 185: The Reflection of Eternity and the Divine War Machine
Sienna's laboratory was not a foul-smelling dungeon or a forge full of soot and vulgar fire. It was an aberration of geometric perfection located in the deepest, darkest, and most secret strata of the Morningstar Clan's Citadel. The vast vault of immaculate glass that made up the room did not reflect light; it devoured it and multiplied it in an infinite echo. Millions of mirrors of various sizes, suspended in the air by magnetic and conceptual forces that defied gravity, moved in a silent, slow, and calculated dance, creating an unfathomable visual labyrinth where physical reality was merely an abstract suggestion.
Sienna, the Infinite Mirror Maiden, walked barefoot on the icy quartz floor. She made no sound as she stepped. Her immaculate white silk qipao emitted a ghostly, pale, and ethereal glow that contrasted with the oppression of the place. With every step she took, the small golden bell tied to her left wrist with a red thread let out a subtle chime. That sound didn't travel through the air; it vibrated directly in the essence of the soul of anyone nearby, a melody that announced the arrival of absolute Truth.
In the exact center of the immense room, on an operating table carved from a solid, massive block of Void Diamond, rested a small electromagnetic cube. Its translucent walls flickered with supreme-grade containment runes. Inside the artifact, the pure soul of Xaloc, the ancient Demonic Holy King who once boasted Stage 9, thrashed frantically like a crimson storm trapped in a jar.
"Release me, insolent woman!" Xaloc's psychic pulsation rumbled in Sienna's mind, laden with the withered arrogance of countless millennia. "I was an absolute sovereign of the Primordial Era! My feet crushed empires that would make this pathetic modern world tremble with fear! I demand respect! You cannot contain the majesty of a Shadow King; a mere human has no right to look down upon a god!"
Sienna stopped a meter away from the void table. She tilted her head to the side with a deeply sadistic elegance. Her silver eyes, devoid of irises and pupils, seemed to see through the cube, through the soul, and through the infinite layers of eternity itself.
"'Majesty'... what a curious and quaint word to describe someone who was found hiding like a rat in a box underground while his world burned on the surface," Sienna whispered. Her voice was melodic, soft, but it cut through the trapped soul's will with the precision of an atomic scalpel. "To Samael, you are a tool that will forge his empire. But to me, Xaloc... to me you are a forbidden book. And I am going to tear your pages out. One by one."
Sienna slowly raised her left hand. The golden bell chimed, but this time with a discordant, sharp, and painful frequency that tore the fabric of local space.
"[Concept of True Reflection]."
Suddenly, the inertia of the room changed. The millions of floating mirrors adorning the immense vault stopped their dance. With a deafening buzz, they all converged toward the center, aiming their reflective surfaces directly at the electromagnetic cube.
Xaloc let out a howl of spiritual agony that made the quartz floor vibrate.
Sienna wasn't torturing him with karmic fire, nor was she flogging him with tribulation lightning. She was forcing him to submit to the worst of condemnations: she was forcing him to look at himself. The Demon King's mental barriers, forged in the majestic Stage 9 and hardened by millennia of isolation, cracked in milliseconds like cheap glass under the pressure of an ocean.
The Goddess of Truth didn't need to ask him questions about what had happened in the Primordial Era. She simply submerged her will into the abyss of his shattered mind, tore it out by the roots, and projected his deepest, darkest, and most traumatic memories onto the kaleidoscopic walls of the immense mirror room.
Echoes of the Primordial Era: The Golden Age and the End of the Heavens
The crystal laboratory disappeared from Sienna's perception, replaced by total immersion in Xaloc's living memory.
Sienna saw herself standing, like a phantom spectator, in a world that completely defied the flimsy logic of the present. The Qi in this forgotten era was not an invisible breeze that cultivators had to meditate to absorb; it was so absurdly dense that it formed true liquid oceans of golden and silver energy that floated majestically between gigantic mountain ranges. The clouds in the sky did not bring rain; they were composed of pure, condensed Heavenly Tribulation.
In this world, the Holy Realm was not the pinnacle of existence; it was merely the starting line for true warriors. Sienna watched with cold fascination floating metropolises the size of entire moons, cities forged in divine metals and ruled by the inscrutable wills of Great Emperors. She saw a Patriarch of a minor clan casually punch the air during a morning training routine; the shockwave born from that simple strike split the sky in two, creating spatial rifts kilometers long that the citizens barely paid attention to. She saw clans composed of pure True Dragons, whose obsidian and sapphire wings darkened entire continents as they flew, and Primordial Phoenixes that nested placidly in the molten core of dying suns.
It was the absolute zenith of cultivation civilization. An era of boundless hubris, of infinite arrogance, where mortals firmly believed they had conquered the Heavens and tamed the universe.
But excessive arrogance is a bright beacon in the darkness. And the universe is incomprehensibly dark, deep, and hostile.
The Tear: The Invasion of the Incomprehensible
In Xaloc's memory, the perpetual golden sky of the Primordial Era didn't darken with conventional storm clouds. It simply... broke.
Sienna watched as the very celestial vault cracked like an immense glass dome struck by a hammer of galactic proportions. A massive black hole, surrounded by dimensional fractures bleeding colors that didn't exist in the human visual spectrum, tore wide open, silencing the world.
Rebellious cultivators from other worlds did not descend, nor did hordes of conventional, bloodthirsty demonic beasts. The Foreign Races descended.
They were entities born in higher dimensions, geometric beings incomprehensible to the human mind, formed of solid light, impossible angles that induced dizziness upon looking at them, and metals that pulsed like organic hearts. These invaders didn't use Qi. The concept of absorbing spiritual energy was alien to them. They used pure laws of cosmic alteration. Their motherships were not built of wood or steel; they were the corpses of supermassive stars, hollowed out from the inside and dragged by immense, thick chains of antimatter.
The invasion wasn't noisy or chaotic. It was a silent, clinical, and methodical eradication.
Sienna witnessed a foreign being, shaped like a gigantic rotating tetrahedron radiating a flat, white light, descend upon a Quasi-Emperor grade Imperial City. The entity didn't attack with sword techniques, nor did it unleash destructive domains; it simply emitted a silent frequency. In a single second, the one billion inhabitants of the floating metropolis—from the weakest infants to the Stage 9 Saints, the formidable Great Saints, and even the haughty Holy Kings who ruled the districts—were instantly turned into statues of inert salt. They weren't killed by having their bodies destroyed; the very "concept" of biological life had been stolen from them.
«They came to harvest our luck...» Xaloc's mental voice whispered, trembling with primitive terror in the memory Sienna was unraveling. «There were too many of us. We became too strong, too heavy. We exhausted the limit of what the fabric of this plane of reality could sustain without tearing, and the Reapers from the Outside came to prune the garden...»
The Opening of the True Abyss
But the horror and extinction didn't only come from above. As if the dimensional intrusion of the Reapers had broken the gravitational, karmic, and spiritual equilibrium of the entire world, the core of the primordial continent gave way.
The earth split open in terrifying fissures tens of thousands of kilometers long and unfathomably deep. Incandescent magma did not emerge from the underground, but a viscous, heavy, absolute darkness. The True Abyss had been breached.
From that primordial darkness crawled the Original Demons. They were not fallen cultivators or practitioners of dark arts; they were the living embodiment of a glitch in the universe's source code.
Sienna saw a gigantic demon lacking a defined shape; it was simply a "void with teeth." When this monstrosity opened its fractal maws, it didn't eat flesh or souls; it devoured distance. Sienna saw an army of cultivators turn around to flee from it; they took a step, but that single step took a thousand years to complete, because the demon had consumed the concept of physical distance between them and their salvation, freezing them in an eternal paradox before swallowing them.
She saw another demon, a colossal centipede composed of millions of weeping, human eyes. This abomination devoured sound. Its mere presence plunged entire battlefields into a suffocating, crushing, maddening silence, where verbal spells canceled themselves out and the agonizing screams of millions of warriors died in their throats without emitting a single decibel.
The Fall of the Gods
The entire continent became a slaughterhouse of cosmic proportions trapped on two simultaneous fronts: the incomprehensible sky falling on their heads and the rotten earth devouring them by the feet.
Sienna was an eyewitness to the desperate resistance of humanity's peak. A Great Emperor, known in that era as the Sovereign of Time, rose toward the Fractured Heavens drenched in divine blood. With a roar of rage that made the eardrums of reality itself bleed, he attempted to use his Supreme Law to rewind the time of the entire continent by a full century and close the spatial rift before the invasion occurred. His hands, glowing with absolute power, literally turned the invisible hands of the cosmos.
But from the foreign starship, a simple, thin beam of two-dimensional white light struck him in the chest. The light didn't burn him or pierce his Dantian. It simply unlinked his biological existence from the continuous flow of time. The Great Emperor, the untouchable pinnacle of martial cultivation, aged billions of years in a single blink. His skin turned to dust, his bones to ash, and his soul disintegrated into cosmic dust; his Supreme Law had been nullified and overwritten by cold, incomprehensible mathematics.
On the surface of the earth, the Matriarch of the Ice Phoenixes, an imposing Quasi-Great Empress, unleashed her Final Lotus upon the endless hordes of the True Abyss. Her sacrifice froze a third of the continent in absolute zero, halting the advance of the darkness. But a single drop of "Black Blood" from a True Original Demon fell upon the sacred glacier. The drop didn't thaw; it did something much worse: it corrupted the very concept of cold.
Before Sienna's astonished eyes, the infinite ice transmuted into a boiling, dark, corrosive acid. The Phoenix Empress, master and ruler of frost, was devoured alive by her own corrupted technique. Her screams tore through the air as her immortal fire turned to dead ash and her body dissolved into nothingness.
Three-dimensional space folded in on itself like crumpled paper. Immense mountain ranges were crushed by invisible forces until they reached the size and density of pebbles. Timelines collapsed and crossed chaotically, causing scenes of madness where veteran soldiers saw their own unborn grandchildren massacred beside them on the battlefield. The very fabric of the universe was being erased, undone, and rewritten by forces mortals could not even conceive.
The Coward's Refuge
And amidst this unfathomable cataclysm where true gods bled and died, Sienna's vision left the continental scale to focus on a single figure: Xaloc.
He was a Stage 9 Holy King, an immensely respected warlord, a master of blood. He was expected to lead the vanguard, to sacrifice his life to give his people one more second of existence. But the Goddess of Truth, rummaging through his soul without mercy, exposed his greatest shame.
Xaloc, terrified to the point of total loss of sanity by the absurd and incomprehensible annihilation of the Great Emperors, fled.
He betrayed his own coalition in the middle of the battle. He gathered his one hundred thousand most loyal soldiers under the pretext of a secret tactic. He led them into the depths of the earth's crust and murdered them all from behind in a blood magic ritual of immense cruelty. He used their vital energy, their Qi, their blood, and their fossilized bones to build the macabre labyrinth of the Primordial Tomb. He isolated the structure from cosmic perception using the Law of Miasma so that neither the Foreign Reapers nor the Original Demons could detect it.
Then, he separated his own soul from his body, sealing himself in the central coffin. In his pathetic illusion, he hoped that the cosmic war would end, that the invaders would leave after harvesting the world until it was barren, and that he could awaken eons later as the one true god reigning over the ashes of an ignorant world.
The memory faded violently, and the immaculate mirror laboratory enveloped Sienna once again with its geometric coldness.
Xaloc's soul panted and trembled spiritually inside the electromagnetic cube. He was humiliated beyond what mortal words could express. His greatest secret, his absolute dishonor, and his unspeakable cowardice had been exposed and dissected in the open.
"It wasn't a punishment for heroic crimes. It wasn't an act of sacrifice to protect humanity's legacy. You were a damn deserter," Sienna laughed. It was a crystalline, beautiful sound, but laden with a cruelty so vast it dwarfed ice itself. "You survived the eradication of your world by hiding in a hole full of corpses that you yourself murdered, only to wake up eras later and discover with horror that Samael Morningstar is the new owner of the ashes."
"I was preserving the legacy of our arts!" Xaloc roared weakly, trying to cling to the last shreds of his destroyed dignity. "If I had stayed to fight against things that erased concepts, I would have been cosmic dust like the rest! It would have been a senseless suicide!"
"And dust you are now," Sienna decreed, her voice losing all trace of mockery to become surgically cold. "The history lesson is over. I'm glad to have pulled this valuable information out of your head, it will be very useful in the future. But now, it's time for the King of Cowards to serve a genuinely useful purpose."
Sienna closed her silver eyes. Through the telepathic connection of the Palace of War, her mind projected a direct order to the other key minds of the Citadel.
"Iris, Cedric, Orion. The looted material is processed and purified. The assembly blueprint is ready. Report to the Crystal Abyss immediately."
The air in the immense laboratory warped, and the three figures materialized simultaneously.
Iris and Cedric, the supreme architects and runic masters of the clan, arrived wearing their impeccable robes. Their eyes already shone with the fever of advanced mathematical calculations, sensing the room's enormous energy load. Orion, the faceless assassin puppeteer, emerged from the shadows wearing his dark tailored suit; he slowly moved his long skeletal hands, from which sprouted impossibly thin and invisible void silk threads that sliced the dust motes in the air. The three geniuses bowed in silence before Commander Sienna.
"The technique we will use today is the [Divine Blueprint: Golems of the War God]," Sienna announced. With a graceful wave of her hand, she projected an intricate, three-dimensional golden holographic schematic into the air.
Cedric stepped forward, his pupils dilating as his mind attempted to process the absurd, dense, and terrifying complexity of the runic matrix that belonged to a forgotten era.
"It's a Divine or Ancient Grade design... A Combat Automaton with an Evolutionary Singularity Core," Cedric murmured, his voice hoarse from the pure fascination of the artisan. He knew the theory: these machines were designed to absorb ambient Qi and the Laws of the territory autonomously, scaling levels as if they were living cultivators. "But, Lady Sienna... encapsulating the immense soul of a Stage 9 Holy King into a fragile stellar jade motor... If we make even one mistake in the energy containment rune, the detonation will wipe out this laboratory and a third of the Citadel with it."
"Exactly for that reason I called you, Cedric," Sienna replied with absolute calm. "I will forge the cosmic metal and tame the king's soul. You three will keep reality stable so we don't blow to pieces. Positions."
In the center of the crystal laboratory, thousands of tons of Cold Star Iron and hundreds of pure Blood Gold ingots looted from the tomb began to levitate on Sienna's order. The Conceptual Deity didn't use furnaces, bellows, or earthly flames; she used her own oppressive will to melt the metals at room temperature, forcing the atoms to collapse in on themselves and fuse into a black, dense, pulsing alloy that emitted an aura of death.
It was then that the true mastery of the Morningstar Clan sprang into action.
Cedric clenched his fists and activated his Eye of Architectural Truth. The mutation was instant and radical. His gray irises lightened until they became translucent electric sapphires. Inside his pupils, a geometric mandala of three golden rings began to spin, emitting a faint, cylindrical beam of light.
To Cedric, the floating liquid metal lost its opacity. He saw the internal lines of force, the main beams at the molecular level, and the exact stress points that threatened to fracture the alloy. His mind, operating with the Fractal Consciousness Network, processed ten thousand variables per second.
"Structural tension in the left hemisphere, sector three!" Cedric dictated with robotic precision. "Sienna, apply conceptual pressure at forty-five degrees!"
Sienna obeyed instantly, molding the metal guided by Cedric's infallible coordinates. He was the beacon preventing the dense alloy from collapsing under its own divine weight.
Simultaneously, Iris fully opened her Fractal Amber Eyes. Her pupils, containing geometric patterns in constant rotation, tore through the layers of reality. She wasn't looking at the metal; she was looking at the immediate future. Her Divine Probability Processing allowed her to foresee the structure's collapse two seconds before it occurred.
She raised her hands. Her Runic Crystal Fingers became translucent. She touched the empty air surrounding the mass of molten metal and began to "play" the Qi as if it were the strings of a cosmic harp. Iris and Cedric acted in a terrifying synchrony that bordered on the telepathic; while Cedric dictated the stability of the metal, Iris wove millions of tiny, microscopic spatial compression runes, creating an invisible mathematical cage around the metal that prevented any leakage of unstable energy.
Orion was not left behind. The puppeteer stepped forward. His void silk threads, sharp as absolute concepts, sank deep into the dark, burning mass of the alloy. With surgical precision that would chill the blood of the continent's best healer, Orion began to "sew" an intricate circulatory system inside the metallic body. He injected gallons of the potent Beast Blood Essence through the threads, and set tiny Void Crystals into what would be the automaton's artificial joints. He was building physical meridians and veins capable of pumping and withstanding the aggressiveness of the Void Heart Sutra.
The forging lasted for grueling hours. Beaded sweat fell from the foreheads of Cedric and Iris, who pushed their minds to the limit to keep the equations of reality stable.
Finally, the blinding glow dimmed.
"The Vanguard Class chassis is stabilized. The body is ready," Orion indicated, his raspy voice sounding from behind his smooth mask.
In front of them floated the empty shell of a humanoid colossus. Sienna walked over to the electromagnetic cube and drew her invisible crystal rapier from thin air: the Blade of Naked Truth.
"It is your time to serve, Xaloc."
With a quick, imperceptible, conceptual slash, Sienna cut straight through the cube and pierced the consciousness of Xaloc's soul. She didn't destroy his magical power, but surgically excised his ego. She erased his memories of cowardly confinement, annihilated his paralyzing fear of the Foreign Beings, and mutilated his free will forever. Of Xaloc, the Demon King, only a living hard drive remained: his impeccable tactical mastery, his war instincts forged in millennia of slaughter, and his profound comprehension of the Blood Law. Sienna knew that, without his original physical body, all this power would drop drastically from Stage 9 to Stage 1, but it was an acceptable sacrifice for absolute obedience.
Sienna grabbed the pulsing red and black sphere—now an obedient core—with her bare hand and violently plunged it into the open chest of the metallic alloy, directly inside the receptacle of the stellar jade motor.
Cedric and Iris let out a hoarse cry of pure effort, trails of blood welling from their eyes, ears, and noses as they stabilized the space around them to contain the explosion of the violent fusion. The Cold Star Iron absorbed the soul all at once, whistling sharply and emitting clouds of frozen vapor.
Directed by the soul's energy, the black metal brutally molded itself. It took its final form: a colossus three and a half meters tall, broad, of titanic proportions, covered entirely in sharp, impenetrable plates of black iron. It had no human face or ornaments, only a flat, smooth visor stretching from side to side, pierced horizontally by a crimson crystal that concealed its combat sensors.
The last stabilization rune sealed with a loud click. The immense laboratory fell into a sepulchral silence, interrupted only by the exhausted panting of Cedric and Iris, who wiped the blood from their faces with trembling sleeves.
The iron colossus slowly lowered its heavy metallic head. The crimson crystal in its visor lit up instantly, accompanied by a heavy sound, like the roar of a mechanical reactor starting up.
A voice emerged from the automaton. It was no longer the deep, arrogant, monstrous voice of Xaloc, the shadow god. It was an artificial sound, supremely cold, metallic, and completely devoid of any trace of emotion, pain, or ego. It was the voice of systematized annihilation.
The enormous Golem, powered by the jade motor, knelt with a dull thud. Its immense weight, lacking subtle control in that first second, physically fractured the indestructible void diamond tiles of the floor.
Sienna smiled with genuine satisfaction, wiping away a solitary drop of silver blood that had splattered onto her perfect cheek. They had violated the laws of life and death. They had built an artificial god of war.
But a machine of this caliber could not be deployed without a stress test. Sienna, as a former deity, felt it in the density of the air.
"You have fallen quite low since Stage 9, Xaloc," Sienna said, her voice echoing in the crystal vault. "A Stage 1 Holy King. Decent, but I want to see how much of your ancient authority survived my scalpel. Rise, machine. Show me your domain."
The iron colossus obeyed the command without hesitation. It stood up. From the palm of its immense mechanical hand, a conventional steel blade did not emerge. It drew upon its own energy, pumping superdense, dark, karmic synthetic blood, condensing it until it crystallized. In a second, it forged the [Scepter of the Exiled King], a monstrous, serrated spear resembling a dragon's spine.
The wails of millions of tortured souls could still be heard howling from within the weapon, tearing at the eardrums of those present, but Sienna immediately noted that the pure void edge at the tip of the scepter was slightly unstable; it no longer erased existence with the same fatality as before, a clear consequence of the forced degradation to Stage 1.
The automaton violently slammed the butt of the Scepter against the fractured floor.
[Executing Inner World Projection: Blood Sea of the End Times.]
The three-dimensional reality of the immaculate mirror laboratory fractured with the sound of breaking glass. Lines of black void tore through the walls, and the entire room crumbled geometrically, being devoured and replaced in a millisecond by the Golem's domain.
Sienna, Cedric, Iris, and Orion were thrown into the heart of the pocket Apocalypse.
The floor disappeared, replaced by an infinite ocean of boiling, thick, viscous blood, so dark it looked like oil. Gigantic waves, releasing a suffocating acidic vapor, crashed against each other. In the sky, which was now a mantle of absolute matte darkness, rose a Dead Sun: a black disk surrounded by a terrifying accretion disk of dim white fire, casting unnatural shadows over the sea.
From the depths of the blood, leviathans and colossal dragons formed of crimson plasma emerged. They roared silently, orbiting around the immense iron Golem, which floated above the ocean as the undisputed master of the nightmare.
The domain's gravity was crushing. The weight of a Holy King, even at its lowest stage, attempted to force the mortals to their knees.
Cedric, Iris, and Orion felt their bones protest violently. The air was sucked from their lungs and the gravitational pressure threatened to plunge them into the acidic ocean.
But they did not bow. They did not panic.
The three of them, alongside Kael, Eris, Violeta, and the others, had already survived the oppression of this very domain when Xaloc operated with the apocalyptic force of Stage 9. This degraded Stage 1 version was suffocating, heavy, and lethal, but manageable for minds forged in the hell of the Pagoda.
Cedric grunted, anchoring his feet firmly in the solidified air using spatial runes sprouting from his gauntlets. Iris intertwined her crystal fingers, raising a mathematical dome that deflected the waves of acidic blood and mitigated the gravitational density. Orion crossed his arms, using his invisible void silk threads to tie himself to reality and remain suspended and steadfast. They sweated from the immense effort of resisting the presence of an entity that exceeded their own cultivation levels by an entire realm, but they managed to stay standing, stoic and proud, demonstrating the true quality of Morningstar geniuses.
Sienna, on the other hand, didn't even flinch. The crushing gravity of the Inner World didn't even manage to ruffle the white silk of her qipao. She looked at the dead sun and the blood leviathans with polite boredom.
"A shrunken domain, a shallower sea, and a sun with less heat," Sienna evaluated, nodding slowly. "The collateral damage of the descent to Stage 1 is evident. But the structure of the Law remains intact. You are an excellent meat grinder, Orion Alpha. Enough of a show."
Sienna raised a single hand and snapped her fingers.
The crystalline sound of the snap cut through the domain. The Blood Sea, the dead sun, and the leviathans collapsed inward like a bursting soap bubble, and the illusion was erased from existence in a single second.
The reality of the million-mirror laboratory was immediately reinstated, silent, immaculate, and perfect. The iron Golem landed heavily on its feet, sheathing its blood spear and adopting a stance of attention.
Sienna approached the laboratory's floating consoles. With her slender fingers, she quantumly connected xaloc's runic core directly to the physical bodies waiting kilometers away on the surface of the Citadel, where the twenty-five thousand cybernetic infantry soldiers awaited orders in perfect ranks (the other five thousand had already been dispatched to the shadows of Sela's camp).
"Initiating Primordial Era tactical synchronization," Sienna dictated aloud.
On the laboratory's enormous holographic screens, the brain activity spikes of the 25,000 foot soldiers shot up in unison. xaloc's artificial mind divided and branched out into the network. Xaloc's brutal, millennia-old war strategies, the conditioned reflexes of a Holy King, and the hive synchronization protocol were integrated into the soldiers' brains in real-time.
The reaction time of an entire army instantly dropped to a margin of error of 0.001 seconds. They were no longer twenty-five thousand warriors; they were twenty-five thousand fingers of a single, immense, and unstoppable iron hand.
Sienna opened the direct communication line with the training grounds on the surface, linking the transmission to the Grand Marshal's mind.
"Marshal Vexia. General Orion Alpha is active and en route to your coordinates. The central tactical engine has been ignited. The Networked Mind operates in perfect synchrony."
Vexia's voice came through clearly over the communicator, accompanied in the background by a sound that would chill the blood of any kingdom: thousands upon thousands of heavy metallic boots striking the obsidian floor in such millimeter-perfect synchrony that it sounded like the beating of a single, gigantic iron heart.
"The Codex of the Tyrant Dragon already flows through their veins, Sienna," Vexia replied, her tone drenched in a deeply professional and satisfied sadism. "They are absorbing the ambient Qi and adapting to the tactical formations like an intelligent plague. The Black Iron Scales gleam on them. They are absolute. They are perfect."
"The Patriarch has demanded we conquer an entire continent in record time, Vexia. Make them all bleed," Sienna ordered.
She cut the communication with a smooth gesture. The Goddess of the Infinite Mirror stood staring at the empty operating table.
The all-powerful Primordial Era had fallen into ruin and absolute oblivion out of blind terror of the Abyss and a lack of understanding of the Foreign Races. But the Morningstar Clan was different; they would not make the pathetic mistake of hiding underground in sealed tombs waiting for death.
They would advance. If the Heavens ever broke again, or if the Reapers from the Outside decided to return to claim this plane, they would meet something far worse than the arrogant Great Emperors of antiquity.
The continental board was set, and Samael's first lethal pieces were about to move.