《Eclipse of Power: The Dark Ascendancy》


 Prologue

    The space in front of him ripped open, giving a view to a space that did not exist before. He walked through the rift, bracing himself for what was to come.


    The first thing he felt was the cold. Here, everything was desolate. The sky was choked with dark, black clouds, not a single ray of sunlight broke through. The landscape was barren, lifeless, with no movement¡ªneither in the sky nor on the ground. Yet the shock of this grim and desolate place quickly faded as a distinct sensation washed over him.


    He sensed it immediately¡ªthe shard. Instinctively, he knew the object he had long sought was near. A greedy gleam flickered in his eyes.


    He expanded his mind outward, focusing on the shard''s location. It was close. But suddenly, something broke his concentration. Confused, he opened his eyes and glanced around the barren landscape.


    All he could perceive was the all-encompassing darkness. Yet the uneasy feeling remained. It was as if the darkness itself was watching him. He shook off the uneasy sensation and began walking into the night, following the pull of the shard. Behind him, the rift closed, taking the last source of light with it. The darkness was now absolute, but that didn¡¯t bother him¡ªhe had always been comfortable in the dark.


    Slowly, his eyes adjusted, and he could make out his surroundings more clearly. This world had clearly suffered some catastrophic event. The forests had been destroyed¡ªtrees either toppled or burned, the fields barren and coated in ash. Everywhere, debris of past civilizations lay scattered¡ªruins of farmhouses, fields where crops had once grown. Yet there was no life. No animals, no sounds. Everything was dead.


    And yet, the unsettling feeling of being watched never left him. No matter how often he glanced over his shoulder, he saw nothing but the dead landscape and endless darkness.


    The feeling of being watched clung to him, no matter how often he looked into the gloom. There was nothing to see¡ªonly desolate landscapes and endless blackness.


    Eventually, he came to a city¡ªor what was left of one. Once, it must have been magnificent, but now it was nothing more than piles of rubble. Broken sections of towering walls still encircled the remnants, but they had crumbled and collapsed long ago. Whatever had ravaged this place had left no respect for the structures that once stood tall.


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    Perhaps a storm? He passed through what must have once been grand gates, now reduced to a shattered arch and a toppled door. The other gate lay far ahead, buried in the wreckage of a massive building with a collapsed spire.


    He walked the deserted streets, past the ruins of homes and faded signs that once advertised bakeries and forges. Everything was abandoned, swallowed by an oppressive darkness and an eerie silence. Only his footsteps broke the stillness, as he trod over charred branches and crumbling debris. Then, he stepped on something that gave a sickening crack. Instinctively, he looked down.


    It wasn¡¯t a burnt branch he had crushed, but a long, white bone. And beside it, a human skull stared up at him. He recoiled in horror, stumbling backward. With a groan, he straightened up¡ªjust as a flash of lightning split the sky. For a brief second, the landscape was illuminated, and what he saw made his blood run cold.


    In that brief moment of light, he saw it¡ªand a chill ran down his spine. Before him was a towering pile of human skeletons, at least five meters high. The sight froze the blood in his veins. Whatever had ravaged this place, it was no natural disaster. Panic welled up inside him. He had to get away from here.


    Another flash of lightning lit the sky, longer this time. His heart stopped as he looked again at the bone pile. This time, he saw it¡ªperched atop the mound of bones sat a grotesque creature. It had four long, black limbs, and a snout vaguely reminiscent of a wolf, but its body was a twisted parody of a human¡¯s. Its skin was black as the night, but its eyes¡ªits eyes shone a piercing yellow. It just sat there, staring directly at him. Even as the lightning vanished, those yellow eyes remained, glowing in the darkness, unblinking, fixed on him.


    That was it. His resolve broke.


    He had to escape.


    Now.


    He spun around and bolted into the darkness. It didn¡¯t matter where¡ªhe just needed to run.


    As he ran, he glanced back over his shoulder. Another flash of lightning illuminated the world, and the creature was still there, still watching, its yellow eyes tracking his every step.


    Then it was dark again. But the darkness felt different now, heavier, more suffocating. Then he could feel the magic swirling around him.


    Magic. Of course! What had he been afraid of? He was a mage. He could defend himself.


    But just as he raised his hand to unleash his power, a sharp pain shot through his chest.


    He stumbled, his legs giving way beneath him. With a strangled cry, he collapsed to the ground. His hand instinctively flew to his chest¡ªit was soaked with blood.


    He struggled to get back on his feet, but then something pierced his leg, sending him crashing to his knees once more.


    He couldn''t die here.


    Not like this!


    His journey had just begun; it couldn''t end like this. With his last ounce of strength, he fought to rise again.


    He heard faint footsteps behind him. A hard object struck the back of his head, and he fell back into the dirt.


    He was rolled onto his back.


    A rough voice spoke to him in an unfamiliar language. He opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out¡ªonly the soft gurgle of blood.


    More footsteps echoed around him, and something loomed above, casting a shadow that blocked the faint light.


    It seemed to grin down at him as his vision slowly faded to black.


    The last thing he saw before death took him was a pair of yellow glowing eyes, hungrily staring back at him.

 Chapter 1: Monster of Chaos

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 Chapter 2: Creature

    A lone figure climbed a vast, barren hill. The old man was emaciated, his skin pale from years without sunlight, thick smoke clouds choked the sky, banishing all light from the planet''s surface.


    His hair had long since fallen out, poisoned by the toxic air, and festering boils covered his frail body like marks of suffering. He wore nothing but tattered remnants of what had once been fine clothing, now hanging from his skeletal frame in shreds, hinting at a past of wealth and power. And indeed, he had not only been wealthy¡ªhe had been a king, ruler of vast lands, a sovereign whose name had once inspired awe and reverence.


    Now, as one of the last surviving humans in his kingdom, he stood atop the hill, gazing down into the valley where his very own city had once stood. Though his memories blurred with time, he could still remember it clearly.


    Giant forests had once surrounded it, where hunters roamed freely, bringing back enough game to feed even the poor, and loggers felled sturdy trees for construction and warmth.


    Beyond the city walls, golden fields stretched endlessly, feeding his people with bountiful harvests.


    Inside, life had flourished like a well-kept garden. Markets thrived with bustling merchants, and the streets echoed with laughter, arguments, and conversations. The gates stood open beneath the warm sun, welcoming travelers, traders, and allies. But those days of peace and prosperity had crumbled into dust.


    For thirty years, the old king had watched helplessly as these... creatures spread ruin across his world. They did not simply conquer¡ªthey desecrated. The fields burned, the trees became nothing but blackened husks, and all living things were either enslaved or exterminated. They spread nothing but Chaos and destruction!


    Where once his proud city stood, an evil fortress now loomed, a twisted monument to his people''s suffering, built from the ashes of his empire. His city had been torn down, its materials repurposed to construct this monolithic abomination.


    The fortress was beyond anything mortals could conceive. It dwarfed even the once mighty and green mountain the old man was standing on, which had been ground down until it was little more than a stunted hill beneath its shadow.


    A massive wall encircled the structure, its sheer size making his former city''s defenses seem like a mere fence in comparison. The wall''s surface was coated in an obsidian-like substance that devoured all light, making it appear as if it was hewn from the void itself. A colossal gate marked the entrance, accessible only by an immense staircase with steps broad enough for entire battalions to ascend side by side.


    Symbols, carved with otherworldly precision, covered every surface, pulsating with unholy power that made the very air tremble.


    Five tall watchtowers pierced the sky, their eternal torches flickering in defiance of the lightless world around them. But even now, the fortress was not complete. To the north, thousands of figures labored like ants, their bodies bent and broken, slaving away endlessly to finish the last section of the wall.


    The old king knew its completion was near. Half a century of toil and countless lives lost, all to build this monstrosity.


    Beyond the walls, the fortress itself rose like a dark obelisk of despair. Its walls were black as a starless night, making it appear as if it was devouring the world itself. The spires clawed towards the heavens, uniform in height, except for the monolithic tower at the center.


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    This one stood taller, broader, crowned with a vast platform ringed with jagged battlements. It was a structure that defied all logic, more unnatural than the fortress itself. A tower not built by mortal hands, but a monument reaching the very throne of God. Four immense sigils adorned its structure, each pulsating with unseen force. The old king dared not look at them for long; even a glance sent a wave of nausea through him.


    He exhaled shakily. For decades, he had done nothing but hide, watching as the monster ruling this fortress defiled his land, his people, his world.


    But he was old now¡ªover eighty, his body decaying, his spirit exhausted. He had spent too long in the shadows, dragging out the inevitable.


    He felt death approaching, and he would not let it find him cowering in some forgotten cave. He refused to perish as a coward. He would fall as he was meant to¡ª as a ruler, a king who gave his life for his kingdom, even knowing it could not be saved.


    With slow, deliberate steps, he descended the hill, walking over the scorched earth where once fields of wheat had thrived.


    Tears burned in his sunken eyes as he recognized the burned remains of farmhouses and stables, the shattered remnants of his people''s effort.


    An hour passed before he reached the great staircase leading to the fortress gate. Enormous banners flanked the entrance, hanging like ominous curtains. They were black, their edges traced with shimmering gold. At their center, a three-clawed hand dripping with crimson blood, stitched with eerie precision,¡ªa stark warning of the blood price paid for this empire.


    His bones ached, his breath was ragged, but he continued climbing. He won''t give up now. Each step sent pain through his limbs, but he pressed on.


    Suddenly a searing light erupted before him, brighter than any sun, forcing him to his knees as his skin prickled with heat. His eyes clenched shut in agony. Then, just as abruptly as it appeared, the light vanished, leaving behind only blinding afterimages.


    When his vision returned, he saw a figure standing above him.


    The shock sent him tumbling backward. He crashed onto the steps, rolling down in a painful cascade before coming to a halt. His weak and old bones snapped like brittle twigs, agony searing through his body. He drifted in and out of consciousness, the sheer intensity of the pain anchoring him to reality.


    But gritting his teeth, he forced himself upright, showing a sheer amount of willpower. Normally, the king would have simply lain there and surrendered to the void. But not now. Something drove him forward¡ªperhaps hatred, perhaps agony, perhaps sheer stubbornness. Or maybe it was simply the fact that death loomed so close that there was nothing left to lose. But he kept going. His eyes locked onto the being before him.


    At a distance, it could almost pass as a human.


    But only almost.


    Its height was unnatural, its form eerily perfect, yet obviously wrong. Twin horns, dark as night, curled from its forehead, protruding from his midnight-black hair. Its hands were pale as dead flesh, ending not in fingers, but in three elongated, razor-sharp talons. And its eyes¡ªthose piercing, slitted yellow eyes¡ªburned with intelligence beyond mortal comprehension.


    A demon.


    A Polykenas.


    One of the creatures gifted with infernal power, the very scourge that had ruined his world!


    A deep, guttural roar tore from the old king''s throat. Rage, grief, and despair ignited within him, burning away his weakness.


    He lunged, his broken body moving on sheer will alone. The demon tilted its head, its expression unreadable, its golden eyes narrowing in something almost like amusement. As the old king drew near, it simply lifted a clawed hand and snapped its fingers.


    A golden crescent of energy slashed through the air, slicing through the king''s throat like a blade through silk.


    His momentum came to an abrupt halt. He stood frozen, eyes wide in shock, a gurgled breath escaping him.


    A few heartbeats passed, the stillness hanging heavy in the air. Then, slowly, almost imperceptibly, his head slid from his neck and rolled down the stairs. In those final moments, the king felt no fear, no rage, not even pain or sorrow. Only an immeasurable relief... finally... finally, he could surrender to the darkness. Then his eyes lost all life and his last thought was thought.


    He died.


    The demon gazed at the corpse, expressionless. Then, with a mere flick of his fingers, a burst of golden flame consumed the remains, reducing them to nothing but drifting ashes. Not a single scorch mark marred the steps beneath them.


    Without another glance, the Polykenas turned toward the fortress. With a surge of power, he ascended, gliding effortlessly over the massive wall.


    Thousands of eyes followed him¡ªguards, sentries, warriors. None moved to stop him, for they knew who he was.


    He was one of their rulers.


    Beyond the walls, an extensive, paved road stretched from the main gate to the fortress''s heart. Towering structures lined both sides, their chimneys vomiting black smoke into the grey sky.


    The streets swarmed with thousands of demons, some stalking on the ground, others soaring through the air.


    But he ignored them.


    He landed before the fortress entrance, where power radiated from the symbols etched into its immense doors. They had been carved with diamond dust, rendering them nearly impervious to harm. Hundreds of protective sigils shimmered in response to his presence. Though no force remained in this world that could challenge them, still, precautions had been taken.


    As he stepped forward, the sigils flared, casting eerie shadows. The guards at either side activated two obscure symbols, and with a deep, resonating groan, the fortress doors swung open, welcoming him.


    He stepped inside.


    And the gates closed behind him.

 Chapter 3: King

    The Polykenas stepped through the towering gates into a breathtaking throne room, the very heart of the fortress. Massive pillars lined the chamber on either side at precise intervals, supporting a ceiling so high that it was veiled in shadows.


    A grand carpet of deep crimson stretched from the entrance, woven from the finest fabric, dyed in the spilled blood of fallen human kings, through the vast hall until it reached the throne.


    The seat of power loomed atop a high dais, accessible only by twelve wide, steep steps¡ªeach one designed to remind those who ascended of their insignificance.


    The walls were adorned with immense tapestries, woven with meticulous detail, their golden threads depicting the tragic downfall of a once-thriving world.


    The first showed a land brimming with life, its people strong, its cities prosperous.


    But then came the darkness.


    Scene by scene, the murals chronicled the doomed resistance¡ªhow the planet''s inhabitants rallied, forging a mighty army in a desperate bid for survival. Near the throne, the final tapestry loomed, capturing a cataclysmic battle where legions clashed beneath a sky swallowed by smoke.


    The creature standing before the throne smirked to itself. It did not need to glance at the last tapestry to know how the story ended.


    The throne room seemed utterly deserted, but the Polykenas knew better.


    He could feel him¡ªabove.


    Watching.


    Yet before he could lift his gaze, a door behind the throne creaked open.


    Two figures emerged.


    The first was a human¡ªan emaciated man clad in a tattered black shirt and frayed trousers, the lower hems caked in filth and torn to shreds.


    He was barefoot, his skin sickly pale, untouched by the warmth of any sunshine. He could almost pass as a Polykenas.


    Black hair framed his hollow face. Though young¡ªno older than twenty-five¡ªhis presence carried an eerie weight.


    The second figure was no man but a beast¡ªa walking mountain of muscle, standing at least two and a half meters tall.


    He was clad in heavy black armor, its metal plates thick with the scars of countless battles. His skin was the color of ashen stone, his grotesque face broad and brutish, adorned with six small, glinting yellow eyes that drank in the room with predatory calculation.


    His gaze locked onto the creature standing before the throne, but the Polykenas did not even acknowledge his existence.


    He was fixated solely on the human.


    "Greetings, my Duce," he intoned, immediately sinking to one knee.


    The man barely spared him a glance before striding toward the throne. He ascended the steps slowly, deliberately, then sank into the seat as if it had been made for him alone.


    The massive Polykenas, known as Shire, stepped forward, bearing an obsidian crown as dark as the void. Without a word, the young man took it and placed it on his head.


    Xersies, the kneeling Polykenas, felt the weight of his master''s gaze settle upon him.


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    "Xersies," the Duce murmured, his voice cold, unnaturally deep for one so young. "How fortunate that you return so soon. Do you have what I seek?"


    "Yes, my Duce," Xersies answered without hesitation. "It took little effort to crush the planet''s defenses, and once we began siphoning its energy, we quickly unearthed the stone."


    "Then what the fuck are you waiting for?" The Duce''s voice hardened. "Hand it over!"


    Even though this human was way weaker than Xersies, he dared not wait.


    His loyalty was unquestioned! He was their Duce, their sovereign¡ªhis ruler, their ruler¡ªthe absolute master of the entire Polykenas race! He rose and tossed a small pouch toward the throne. With practiced ease, the Duce caught it midair and peered inside.


    A slow, satisfied smile crept across his lips.


    "Well done, Xersies. Now leave! I will absorb it immediately."


    "I am unworthy of your praise, my Duce,"


    Xersies murmured, inclining his head before turning to depart.


    But before he could take another step, the great doors at the far end of the hall burst open.


    A new figure scuttled inside¡ªthin, sickly, its white skin so stretched that its bones jutted visibly beneath the flesh. It was draped in a tattered cloak that billowed around its skeletal frame. Yellowish eyes gleamed feverishly beneath a mess of long, unkempt gray hair.


    Every few seconds, the creature bared its jagged, needle-like teeth in an involuntary snarl. It hunched forward as it moved, its spindly arms ending in six clawed fingers, which it kept folded neatly behind its back.


    It slithered toward the throne, casting a venomous glance at Xersies as it passed.


    The Duce waved one hand lazily, resting his head upon the other. "What is it, Ramor?"


    Ramor immediately dropped to his knees. "Glorious news, my Duce," he rasped.


    "The fortress... it is complete."


    The Duce straightened, his lips curling into a smile devoid of warmth.


    "Good. Very good. Finally! But before we test its strength, I must cultivate. So scram!"


    "As you command, my Duce," the two Polykenas answered in unison, bowing before retreating toward the exit.


    The Duce''s cold gaze followed them. Xersies, Ramor, Ester, Shire, and Fril.


    They were his five generals¡ªthe most powerful of all Polykenas. Each formidable in their own right, each wielding strength surpassing even his own. And yet, they obeyed him without question, without hesitation.


    It was in their nature, woven into the very essence of their being. For years, the Duce believed they merely used him to further their own ends, but as time passed, he had come to realize that the Queen had spoken no lies when she gave him control over the Polykenas.


    They existed for him.


    They lived to serve him.


    Speaking off, his eyes drifted upward.


    A shadow clung to the ceiling¡ªsomething inhuman, its limbs splayed as it hung like an oversized spider. Its skin was as black as Shire''s, though it was scarcely half his size. Layers of tattered cloth concealed its form, leaving only its six luminous yellow eyes visible through the darkness of its hood.


    It stared at him.


    Unblinking.


    Unmoving.


    The Duce sighed. "That means you too, Fril. I will not be disturbed."


    A chittering sound, like a hyena''s laugh, echoed through the chamber. The creature released its hold and dropped, landing in a crouch before the throne, soundless as a phantom.


    "As you command," it hissed before slinking away on grotesquely elongated limbs, hunched and twisted.


    The Duce exhaled slowly, turning his gaze to Shire, "Go to the gates. Let no one enter. I will not be disturbed."


    The massive Polykenas inclined his head and obeyed.


    The Duce, his name was Nero, but no one had used it in decades, unfastened the small pouch Xersies had given him, a cold smile playing on his lips as he pulled it open.


    Inside lay a tiny black stone¡ªinsignificant in appearance, yet its power was almost tangible. He could taste it, an intoxicating aura of raw energy seeping into the air. He took it into his hand, feeling its weight, knowing what it represented. This unassuming fragment was the ultimate prize¡ªthe result of an entire planet''s conquest.


    It was the sixth of these stones he had ever held in his hand. He had long questioned why each world seemed to harbor only one. His servants had spent years overturning every rock, excavating hundreds, even thousands of kilometers deep into the planet''s crust, yet never had they found a second one.


    He exhaled a quiet chuckle, shaking his head before closing his fingers around the stone and crushing it effortlessly.


    The stone did not break into mere shards. Instead, it dissolved into black smoke, which surged into Nero''s body like a living being.


    He inhaled sharply as the raw power coursed through his veins, flooding toward his second heart¡ªthe wellspring of his magic, the core of his existence.


    Every true sorcerer possessed one, and if it were destroyed, the result was no different from losing an ordinary heart. Yet even now, after years of wielding his power, Nero still did not know how this second heart was formed¡ªor why some were born with it while others were not.


    Then the pain struck. A searing, venomous force latched onto his essence, clawing through his veins, warring against the magic that already resided within him. It was like poison, eating into him, trying to consume what was his.


    Every muscle in his body screamed for relief, but he gritted his teeth, forcing himself to endure. The pain was overwhelming, numbing, suffocating¡ªbut he pushed through, sharpening his mind, focusing his magic. He had to fight it. He had to dominate it.


    It was a delicate battle. Too much force and he would destroy the new power before it could be absorbed. Too little, and it would tear him apart.


    He had to maintain absolute balance¡ªattacking when necessary, withdrawing when required¡ªuntil the energy finally yielded to him, allowing itself to become part of his being.


    Each stone he had absorbed varied in strength. The first had been the most potent by far, unlocking something deep within him, and awakening his true potential. The ones that followed, while powerful, had never matched its intensity. He still did not understand what dictated the strength of a planet''s stone.


    But one thing was certain¡ªthey granted him unparalleled power.


    The Polykenas called them the Shards of Chaos.


    After nearly seven hours, Nero finally opened his eyes. Sweat drenched his body, his limbs felt numb and heavy, and his veins still burned with searing heat.


    Yet, despite the lingering agony, a satisfied gleam shone in his gaze. He had undergone yet another qualitative transformation¡ªthe fourth he had experienced. And each time, his power had surged to terrifying new heights.


    With a deep exhale, Nero rose to his feet. His movements were slow but deliberate. After steadying himself, he called for Shire. His gaze drifted toward the great gate, where Shire entered, watching him with countless glowing yellow eyes.


    "Well then, Shire," Nero murmured, his voice low and edged with dark amusement.


    "Shall we finally test the power of the fortress?"


    Shire let out a deep, guttural grunt of approval.

 Chapter 4: Fortress

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 Chapter 5: Duel

    Nero stood face to face with Xersies. Their eyes scanning for weakness. Nero took a deep breath, readying himself¡ªthen, without warning, he struck.


    A long spear of pure darkness shot toward Xersies, crackling with immense power. But Xersies raised his hand calmly. A golden light radiated from his palm, so intense that Nero had to shield his eyes with shadows to avoid being blinded.


    The dark spear collided with the luminous barrier Xersies had conjured and was obliterated. But that was exactly what Nero had planned. The darkness itself wasn''t destroyed¡ªit merely pooled onto the ground beneath Xersies.


    Clenching his fist, Nero commanded the shadowy puddle to erupt, sending hundreds of smaller spears flying at his opponent.


    But it''s surprising Xersies that easy? Of course not!


    He saw through Nero''s plan and simply stomped the ground, unleashing an explosion of light from his bare feet, annihilating the shadows this time. Nero dared not to give him time to counterattack. He immediately launched another relentless barrage of spears, yet Xersies deflected each one with ease. Nero knew he couldn''t keep this front up for long¡ªat least not as long as Xersies could¡ªso he changed his strategy.


    He stopped his barrage of attacks and then stepped into his shadow, he vanished . In an instant, a massive portion of his energy was consumed, but now he was moving within the shadows themselves. Swift as a whisper, he emerged behind Xersies and struck.


    Xersies sensed the attack and spun around, unleashing a wave of radiant light that burned through the air. It obliterated Nero''s strike instantly, forcing him to wrap himself in darkness once more to avoid being killed.


    As the searing wave passed, Nero seized the lingering shadows for a devastating counterattack.


    Tendrils of pure darkness lunged at Xersies, moving with surgical precision under Nero''s command. Xersies was forced to maintain an unbreakable shield¡ªone without a single gap.


    This drained him significantly, as light magic was strongest in offense and considerably weaker in defense. Both of them knew this.


    Xersies relied on an age-old principle: the best defense is a strong offense. Holding the barrier with one hand, he used the other to launch dozens of light-forged swords at the enormous shadow tendrils. It cost him more energy, but Nero couldn''t split his focus enough to control all the tendrils while also defending against the daggers . In a single calculated strike, Xersies destroyed nearly half the tendrils. Moment freed Nero from focusing on his attacks, allowing him to block the remaining daggers.


    But that moment of distraction was all Xersies needed.


    With a flick of his wrist, he transformed his luminous shield, channeling even more energy into it. He intended to unleash it as a wave, breaking through the tendrils and shattering Nero''s defense in one devastating attack k. But Nero had predicted this.


    As Xersies unleashed his light wave, Nero pulled the darkness back into himself, catapulting behind Xersies at breakneck speed. Xersies caught off guard, took the full force of Nero''s strike.


    Nero poured a significant portion of his magic into this single attack, aiming to enthrall the battle in one decisive move. Therefore a sharp pain shot through Nero''s fingers and hands, as small fractures formed upon impact. The first sign his magic was depleting! Sadly, most of his attack was absorbed by a nearly invisible membrane of pure light that enveloped Xersies¡ªa thin but powerful defensive layer.


    Even so, the force of the hit sent Xersies crashing backward.


    The glowing symbols on the massive hall''s walls flickered to life as he collided with them. He let out a chuckle as he pushed himself back up. But Nero didn''t give him a moment to recover¡ªhe lunged again.


    Xersies snapped his fingers and vanished.


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    Nero''s pupils shrank. This was the first time Xersies had used this ability and it caught Neroo unprepared. But he immediately refocused. He knew Xersies was still here. He wouldn''t just flee.


    Nero concentrated, tuning out everything else, focusing only on the space around him. And then¡ªhe felt it.


    To his right!


    Whirling around, he barely managed to block the blinding light beam Xersies had fired at him. But he was a fraction of a second too slow. His defense wasn''t strong enough. A sharp force slammed into him, sending him crashing into the wall. He felt several bones break on impact. Blood spilled from his lips as he fought against the creeping edges of unconsciousness.


    He tried to stand up again. He failed.


    Looking up, he saw Xersies standing there, hands clasped behind his back, grinning down at him.


    Grinding his teeth, Nero growled, "I yield."


    At once, a white Polykenas rushed into the room, placing his hands over Nero. A surge of energy flooded his body, forcing his bones back together and closing his wounds. Nero sucked in a sharp breath as the healing process completed. Polykenashealers were incredibly rare. As a species, the Polykenas only respected strength¡ªbuxeries was different. He understood that healers were a vital asset to any army, and so he made an effort to nurture a few of them.


    Within two minutes, Nero was fully restored.


    The healer moved to Xersies next, mending his injuries. For the past thirty or so years, Xersies had been his teacher in the arts of magic.


    Xersies studied Nero with a pleased expression. "You fought well, my Duce. You''ve grown stronger. And your control over your power is improving."Nero exhaled, shaking his head. "I still can''t compare to you. You managed to maintain a defensive membrane throughout the entire battle. I, on the other hand, can barely focus on more than two things at once. And I still lack the raw power."You''re still young, my Duce. Mastery comes with practice. And if I hadn''t recently received a massive boost in power, I wouldn''t have lasted as long as I did."


    He was right. After absorbing the magic of the dark stone, Nero became at least twenty percent more powerful.


    If the fight had happened before yesterday, he would have stood a much greater chance against Xersies, and the battle wouldn''t have been so one-sided. But yesterday, when Xersies bathed in pure chaos, he experienced an immense surge in power.


    The Polykenas were a mystical species, their very existence intertwined with Chaos.


    They did not need air, food, or water¡ªthey drew strength from Chaos itself.


    That''s why, whenever Nero''s forces conquered a world, he let the Polykenas burn it to the ground. Every death, every act of destruction, released Chaos energy, strengthening them. However, they could only absorb a tiny fraction of it. Most of the energy was lost, left floating aimlessly in the air.


    It was truly wasted potential.


    When Nero first learned of this, he devised the concept of the Fortress¡ªa way to harness and collect that excess Chaos energy. He brought the idea to Ramorand Xersiess, who were immediately excited by the prospect. They recognized the brilliance of the plan but also knew how difficult it would be to execute it successfully! It took nearly three years to design, a colossal puzzle where every symbol had to align perfectly. A single mistake could cause the entire Fortress to explode, taking the planet with it.


    Afterward, it took almost another three decades to construct. And yesterday, at long last, he had activated its true function, absorbing the Chaosenergy released by the planet''s destruction. But instead of using it to empower the Polykenas, which would have been inefficient, he did something far more significant.


    He funneled all the collected energy into their home¡ªtheir dimension. Legend said that when the Polykenas first appeared nearly three thousand years ago, a powerful mage had sealed them away in that dimension. It was Nero who had finally freed them.


    But Polykenas were not immortal. Though they lived far longer than humans, even they eventually died. Only the strongest among them¡ªlike Xersies and Ramor¡ªcould live for over a thousand years.


    And they did not reproduce like ordinary beings.


    They were born from Chaos itself.


    And the only way to create new Polykenas was to infuse Chaos energy into their dimension. But entering that realm was impossible. Even Nero couldn''t return. The only way to generate new life was through death¡ªwhen a Polykenas perished, their energy was released.


    Yet that, too, was inefficient. Even if Xersies sacrificed himself, he would only produce a dozen new Polykenas.


    Who was Xersies?


    The second oldest of his kind, surpassed only by Ramor. And the most powerful of them all. He alone could wipe out thousands of newborn Polykenas.


    And so, Nero had formed his plan.


    Instead of letting excess Chaos energy dissipate, he gathered it. And yesterday, after nearly seven hours, he funneled all of it into their realm.


    Then, he sent a messenger r. It was nearly impossible to breach that dimension. Though Nero had created a gateway, it was strictly one-way.


    Only three Polykenas in his entire army possessed the ability to travel between realms.


    When the messenger returned, he brought incredible news.


    Millions of new Polykenas had been born!

 Chapter 6: Ester

    Nero walked through a long corridor deep within the fortress. He was in the right wing of the colossal structure. The passage was dimly lit, only illuminated by a few torches mounted on the walls. Of course, they could have used symbols instead, but drawing symbols came at an immense cost.


    There were two types of symbols: active and passive ones. An active symbol was one that, once activated, produced a single effect. These required nothing more than a small amount of magic to be drawn. Passive symbols, however, were far more complex. They were drawn only once and lasted until they were destroyed. Some could be reactivated repeatedly, while others had permanent effects.


    For instance, there were passive symbols on the outer walls that made them nearly indestructible by conventional means. But such symbols contained immense potential, and their cost was equally staggering. They not only required magical energy to be drawn but also drained the life force of the one who inscribed them.


    Ramor, who was walking behind Nero, had sacrificed over a hundred years of his life force to inscribe the symbols within the fortress. Even for a Polykenas, this was an enormous price to pay. While magic granted their kind extended lifespans, the life force demanded by symbols increased in proportion to the strength of their creator. This was why Ramor lived significantly longer than most.


    Wasting his, or any other Symbolic''s life just for convenient lighting would have been sheer foolishness. Instead, Nero had ordered several human slaves to ensure the torches were always replaced before they burned out.


    Nero owned countless human slaves, all imprisoned in the dungeons beneath his fortress. One reason for this was, of course, to use them for experiments, but that was not the only reason. In truth, Nero had no real use for slaves. With an army of millions of Polykenas under his command, humans were nothing more than weak, fragile creatures, with no place in his grand design.


    But that didn''t matter. Nero wanted them to be enslaved.


    A deep, burning hatred for humanity festered within him¡ªan all-consuming loathing, not just for individuals, but for the entire species.


    And above all, he despised religious fanatics. That was why every single one of his captives was a devout follower of the Church. Among them, locked away in the depths of his dungeons, was none other than the Pope himself. There was something uniquely satisfying about seeing these once-proud, self-righteous men and women¡ªpeople who had once believed the world belonged to them¡ªstripped of their status, caged like animals, and reduced to performing the most menial household tasks. It was a twisted pleasure, watching their arrogance crumble into despair.


    Nero, followed by Ramor and Shire, strode purposefully down the corridor toward a heavy steel door at the far end. When they reached it, Nero knocked on the closed door.


    He had to wait almost five minutes before it finally swung open.


    Behind it stood a massive Polykenas. He was tall, even towering over Shire. However, in contrast to Shire, he was one of the white Polykenas.


    The massive muscles that gave Shire his dangerous appearance were noticeably absent in this one. Yet, despite his frail frame, the being exuded an unsettling aura. Like nearly all Polykenas, he was male¡ªonly the Queen was female.


    His face was obscured by a long mask in the shape of a raven''s beak, a relic stolen from the plague doctors encountered during the subjugation and enslavement of humanity. Since then, he had never taken it off.


    Three long, curved horns protruded from his skull, and through the lenses of his mask, two large, yellowish eyes gleamed with an almost maddening intelligence.


    He wore a long black coat that concealed his form but was clearly too short for him. A magical aura emanated from his clothing, signifying the powerful symbols embroidered upon it.


    Upon recognizing Nero, the being''s eyes widened further. He immediately bowed deeply."Forgive me, my Duce. I was in the middle of a delicate experiment. I did not intend to keep you waiting."


    Ramor snorted. "That is no excuse to make your Duce wait¡ª"


    Nero raised his hand, cutting Ramor off. He regarded the Polykenas with a cold, impassive stare. This was Ester, the last of his five generals. Nero knew he was telling the truth.


    Ester was many things, but loyalty to Nero was ingrained in him as deeply as in any other Polykenas. Like all five of his generals, Ester''s role was of immense importance.


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    He was the youngest of them, yet in terms of power, he was on par with Shire and just below Xersies, but he possessed blood magic instead. Despite his formidable strength, he rarely used his powers in battle, preferring instead to focus on research.


    "Come in, my Duce," Ester said at once. Then, glancing at Ramor and Shire, he added, "Not you two. You are too fat," he pointed at Shire,


    "And you..." he looked at Ramor, "You are just annoying!"


    Shire growled angrily and took a step toward the wiry Polykenas, opening his mouth as if about to protest. Nero watched the exchange with detached amusement. He often let the five generals settle their disputes amongst themselves. Only when someone overstepped his limits would he intervene. Where exactly that limit lay was something Nero would determine in due time.


    Before Shire could speak, Ester cut him off, his eyes filled with boredom. "Fine, come in as well. But don''t touch anything! Especially you, Shire¡ªyou always break something with your clumsy paws."


    Shire closed his mouth again and said nothing, simply walking inside the Room. Ramor, on the other hand, was seething. As he entered the room, he launched into a tirade against Ester, berating him for his uncouth behaviour and lack of respect for his elders.


    Ester ignored him entirely, long accustomed to Ramor''s endless lectures.


    The room was large and easily spacious enough to accommodate all of them. A strong scent of blood filled the air, stinging Nero''s nose as he stepped inside. But after fifty years of committing genocide against entire species, he was long since accustomed to the smell.


    Blood was splattered across the entire chamber. The space was divided into four distinct sections:


    The first was an area with a massive counter covered in countless piles of various materials, differing in color and shape. Alongside them lay stacks of inscribed notes, parchments, and thick books. This was where Ester documented all his experimental findings.


    The second section was filled with shelves containing an assortment of herbs, minerals, and other alchemical ingredients. Scattered notes and parchments were strewn everywhere. Nero had no idea how Ester managed to navigate this chaos.


    The third area housed an array of cages containing all manner of creatures¡ªeven humans and Polykenas. While the Polykenas were in noticeably better condition than the others, Nero knew they were not here by choice. They were the weak and useless members of the species¡ªexpendable. Most astonishing was the absolute silence that pervaded the chamber. No screams, no sobs, not even the faintest cough. This was, of course, due to the multitude of symbols engraved on the cages, suppressing all sound.


    And lastly, in the center of the room, was the "surgical area." A blood-soaked bed lay there, occupied by a bound human, drenched in crimson from head to toe. Incisions covered her body, with numerous tubes pumping multicolored fluids into her veins. The subject was a woman in her early twenties, barely clinging to life. Next to the bed was a counter cluttered with notes and surgical instruments. She had likely once been beautiful, but that mattered little to Ester, who had mercilessly experimented on her.


    By now, she was no longer human. She had mutated into something entirely different. Horns protruded from her skull, and her eyes glowed with an unnatural yellow hue. One of her hands had begun to atrophy, two fingers shriveling into useless stumps, while another had transformed into a claw. She looked like a grotesque hybrid of human and Polykenas.


    If one traced the source of the blood coursing through the tubes, they would find it came from the captive Polykenas. Ester held no regard for human life¡ªnor for his own species. He cut, dissected, and experimented on anyone and anything in the pursuit of knowledge. Among the Polykenas, there was no concept of kinship¡ªonly the recognition of strength. It was Xersies alone who had kept them from annihilating each other ages ago.


    "How are your experiments progressing, Ester?" Nero asked, genuinely curious.


    Ester had been obsessed for decades with the idea of creating Polykenas through means other than Chaos Energy. With the completion of the fortress, they had finally found an efficient method to create millions of Polykenas in a short period of time. However, it remained a costly and arduous process¡ªone that required the complete destruction of an entire planet. And, of course, such an act demanded an unimaginable toll in lives.


    On weaker planets, where the inhabitants were disorganized and fragmented, the loss might be as little as a few tens or hundreds of thousands. But if the planet''s people managed to unite quickly, forming a vast, coordinated army, the cost could rise exponentially. In such cases, it wasn''t uncommon for Nero to lose millions of his own Polykenas in a single campaign.


    The numbers were staggering, but this was the reality of war¡ªwars not just between nations, but between entire species and planets.


    That was why Nero allowed Ester to continue his research. If Ester could find a way to create Polykenas through other means¡ªperhaps even through reproduction, like humans¡ªthen Nero''s army could grow and strengthen at an alarming rate. Ester sighed. "Unfortunately, I have made little progress."


    Nero glanced at the half-transformed woman and raised an eyebrow. "This looks promising to me."


    Ester nodded. "I also thought so at first. But the blood acts as a poison, slowly killing the subject. Moreover, while superficial mutations occur, the essence remains human. They gain none of the traits that make our species strong. Not even a magical heart forms."


    Nero did not let his disappointment show. Instead, he grinned, "Don''t be sad. I have good news! Pause your research for now. We will find a new planet to conquer."


    At these words, Ester''s sorrow vanished, replaced by gleaming, eager eyes. Like every Polykenas, he craved chaos and destruction as an addict craved his next fix.

 Chapter 7: Sungod

    Nero stood about halfway up the enormous staircase leading to the main gate of his vast fortress. Behind him, the towering black walls stretched endlessly, and on them stood countless Polykenas, their eyes locked onto him in silent observation. A strong wind blew through Nero''s short black hair and his eyes shone with dark composure.


    As always, he wore his torn trousers and dirt-streaked shirt¡ªan appearance that belied his true status as the ruler of a world-destroying army. Only the deep black crown on his head and the noble, billowing cloak hinted at his true standing.


    Next to Nero stood five figures. To his right was Xersies, his first general, tasked with maintaining control and order among the Polykenas. To his left stood Ramor, the Master Symbolic, his second general. Next to Xersies stood Shire, his ever-watchful bodyguard and third general, while to the left of Ramor stood Ester, master of research and mutation, the fourth general. And far to the right, hunched and shrouded in darkness, was Fril¡ªthe fifth general, a master assassin.


    His domain was the silent elimination of rulers and the procurement of vital intelligence, though until now, the Polykenas had been so overwhelmingly dominant that his talents had not been really necessary. These five were Nero''s elite, the most powerful Polykenas in his army, though no enemy force required the full attention of all 5 generals to date. Power radiated from each of them, yet in the midst of these titans stood their ruler: Nero.


    But Nero had not come out here to enjoy the beautiful view over the dead fields and forests, but rather there was an important matter. It was time to search for a new world¡ªand to conquer it.


    At his command, Xersies stepped forward and handed him a small blue stone. This stone was their key to power. It was the most valuable possession of Nero.


    Without it, even the mighty fortress would be useless. He had seized it long ago from a human¡ªa traveler who had used it to journey between worlds. Now, it belonged to him.


    Nero took the stone in one hand and knelt, pressing his palm against the smooth obsidian beneath him. In the center of the step, an engraved symbol gleamed faintly. This was one of the many connections that allowed Nero to merge his consciousness with the fortress.


    Next, he ordered the millions of Polykenas to release their energy once again. They did as he commanded them. But this time Nero did not use it to collect the chaos energy, since none was left, but rather he took the energy and ordered it to flow into the small blue stone.


    He released only a tiny part of the stored energy at the same time, for fear that the stone would be overloaded and destroyed. Nevertheless, the amount of magic that was released was breathtaking.


    Every living being possessed a wellspring of magic, a force they could wield freely. Given time, it would naturally regenerate¡ªunless drained too severely, in which case recovery became slow, even impossible. The black stones were Nero''s means of circumventing this limitation, allowing him to store and wield magic far beyond what any single being should contain.


    For the Polykenas, it was the absorption of chaos energy.


    One could imagine it like a simple glass of water. It could be emptied and refilled endlessly, but its capacity remained fixed. Only by expanding the glass could it hold more.


    Under normal circumstances, recharging this small blue stone was an excruciatingly slow process, as only one individual could fuel it at a time. The task usually took no less than four months.


    But now, it was as if the stone had been plunged into a vast, surging ocean. Within mere moments, its energy reservoir overflowed, fully charged and brimming with power.


    This was the third great function of the fortress.


    Nero lifted the small blue stone and directed his will into it, commanding its activation. Immediately, the stone unleashed a tremendous wave of energy. He focused his mind entirely, straining to maintain control. So far, he had not yet discovered a way to precisely locate other worlds¡ªit was always a game of chance. Hours passed before the stone finally locked onto a target. Nero felt the connection forming between here and there, and then space itself rippled before him. As if a colossal painting had been hung in the air, reality split open, revealing an entirely new landscape.


    A gust of fresh air surged through the opening. Bright daylight illuminated the other side, and the sun''s relentless heat burned against Nero''s pale skin. He nodded to his generals, who followed as he stepped through the portal..


    The gateway had opened high above the ground, dozens of meters in the air. While Nero, Xersies, Ramor, and Ester had the ability to fly, the remaining two required assistance. Shadows coiled and solidified beneath them as Nero created a floating platform of darkness. At night, sustaining such a construct was effortless, because shadows surrounded him, fueling his magic, but under the glaring sun, the effort was exhausting. Still, he ignored the strain.


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    They surveyed the land below. A small human village lay beneath them, its inhabitants blissfully unaware of their presence. Nero could have cloaked himself in darkness, but doing so required more energy than he was willing to expend. He also could not absorb the Polykenas'' power from the fortress. They had attempted it before, but the experiment had ended in disaster¡ªevery Polykenas who had tried had perished in an instant, their magical hearts obliterated. Ester had conducted an autopsy and confirmed that foreign magic had completely destroyed them.


    Xersies could also hide them, as Nero had discovered, but Xersies explained to him that the trick worked by directing all the light around him. Thus Nero could not see him. But without light, Xersies also couldn''t see anything. That was indeed good for surprise attacks if you know the area well, but it did not help them in this situation.


    According to Ramor, there were some active symbols that would be capable of hiding them from human eyes, but these required enormous magic. Of course, Nero and his generals were also way too powerful to make it worth the cost and trouble. It would be like trying to cover a mountain with a sheet of paper!


    The symbols could never hide them! So they left those out as well. The other three had no possibility to hide anyone from the naked eye, therefore Nero didn''t even need to ask them.


    But it made no difference. Even if they were seen, it hardly mattered.


    Sure enough, it wasn''t long before the villagers spotted them. Panic spread like wildfire.


    They screamed and roared in their strange language. Nero activated a hidden symbol on his neck. Immediately, he learned the language of the humans around him, but they spoke so wildly mixed together that he still understood nothing. Only upon listening closely did he pick up their words,


    "DEMONS!" roared one.


    "DISAPPEAR, YOU WRETCHED CREATURES!"


    "THE SUNGOD WILL SAVE US!"


    Nero chuckled at their hysteria, amused by their futile cries to an absent deity. Once, long ago, he also believed in a god. But that faith had crumbled and died fifty years ago¡ªon the day he lost them...


    Nero shook his head. These were emotions and memories that Nero had long since banished from himself and he had no intention of bringing them back up again. Emotions were weaknesses! The past was irrelevant!


    Every world they had invaded played out the same way. They arrived, were branded demons, and the humans called out to their gods. At first, Nero had dismissed it as coincidence. But as it repeated time and time again, he had begun to wonder. He had once asked Xersies if there was meaning behind it, but even his first general had no answer. None of them did.


    Nero refocused on the terrified humans below.


    "Aren''t they cute, how they call upon their god, who will never come to save them?" he asked amusedly.


    Ester laughed, "Like little animals that call upon their parents to suck on their nipples."


    "Does anyone among you feel any kind of magic?" asked Nero after some time, but his generals only shook their heads. There were only mortals among these humans.


    Nero was just about to say something when he suddenly heard a woman shout,


    "QUICK, SOMEONE GO TO THE LIGHT-BINDERS AND GET HELP!"


    Nero tilted his head. "They''re calling for someone..."


    His generals turned their attention downward, watching closely. A shift rippled through the crowd. Then Ramor stiffened. "Magic. I sense it now."


    From within the mass of frightened humans, a dozen figures emerged, draped in pristine white robes. The villagers formed a circle around them, parting to leave an open space at the center.


    ersies chuckled darkly. "I believe they wish to speak with us."


    Nero nodded, "Shall we see what grand words they have for us?"


    The ever-curious Ester immediately nodded in agreement and even Shire gave an approving grunt. Nero willed and the black cloud began to glide downward.


    After half a minute, they had arrived below and landed gently on the ground. Nero stood in the middle of their group. His crown seemed to absorb every light and his cloak billowed lightly in a gentle breeze. He looked the white humans in the eyes in front of him. They all had golden, glowing eyes and an unmistakable magical aura emanated from them.


    "Greetings, esteemed guests," said one of the humans in an authoritative tone. Nero and his generals had intentionally hidden their magic, therefore the mages in front of them probably only sensed it weakly.


    Nero offered a pleasant smile. "Hello, my friends. What a charming little village you have."


    Despite his warm tone, he had already given Fril a silent order.


    No human would leave this place alive.

 Chapter 8: Eradication

    "Thank you very much, good sir," said one of the men standing at the forefront. He was likely their leader. "But may I ask what you seek in this humble village of ours?"


    Nero smiled cheerfully. "Oh, we''re merely passing through. Tell me, what is the name of this beautiful world?"


    The man furrowed his brow in confusion as if he did not understand the question. After a short pause, he replied,


    "The name of this planet is Scur." He spoke as though he was explaining something simple and obvious to a stupid child. Nero was unfazed by his condescending tone.


    "May I ask where you come from?" the man asked after a second brief silence.


    Nero simply pointed upward, toward the rift in the sky. Through the tear, one could see the staircase leading to his castle and the massive gate standing before it. The men had already noticed the portal, studying it with wary curiosity.


    "Speaking of, I think our time is running out. We need to depart for now but don''t worry, we will return." Nero grinned, "Then we can continue our little chat. I tell you something about our world and you tell us something about yours!"


    Nero turned around as if he wanted to leave.


    "I''m afraid we cannot allow that," the leader declared sternly, his expression hardening. Nero had anticipated this reaction.


    "Oh? And why not?" Nero asked in an innocent tone, though he already had the answer. These people were fanatics. They believe that everything is either good or evil. And everything that is evil has to be eradicated in the name of their stupid god. Nero and his General displayed their magic but in the minds of the plebian folk, their magic and appearance were sinful. They called them Demons, so that was obvious. Now the fanatics, who call themselves the bringers of justice and god''s will, have to confront them. They need to show the commoners that the use of "demonic" magic is dark and forbidden. If they would just let them go, it would be interpreted as heresy against their doctrine, and they would be severely punished.


    And like Nero predicted, the leader of the men continued:


    "In our land, the use of unauthorized magic is strictly outlawed, furthermore, you are under suspicion of using forbidden magic. Surrender peacefully, and I give you my word¡ªyou will receive a fair trial!"


    Nero laughed a deep and hearty sound.


    "So our magic is forbidden? And what kind of magic do you permit?" he asked mockingly.


    "Only the magic of the Sun God, of course!"


    At that moment, Xersies stepped forward for the first time, his grotesque grin stretching across his face.


    "Oh? You mean this kind?" he sneered, raising his hand. A bright flash of light erupted from his fingers, shooting toward the group of men. It was a small attack, and Nero knew there was little power behind it.


    Nevertheless, it was enough to kill one of the men instantly.


    Silence fell over the scene. All eyes were fixed on the lifeless body, a burning hole in his forehead. Then, the first cries rang out¡ªshouts of rage and horror.


    It was as if the spell had been broken, and the rest of the men erupted in a storm of curses and desperate prayers. Some even began throwing objects at Nero and his generals, but most projectiles bounced harmlessly off Shire. The few that did not were caught mid-air with incredible speed.


    The leader of the group was beside himself with fury. His eyes were burning with hatred and righteous anger.


    "HOW DARE YOU? YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO ATTACK MY MEN! NO RIGHT TO DEFILE HIS HOLY MAGIC! IT WAS GIVEN TO US BY THE SUN GOD HIMSELF!"


    Xersies merely smiled. "And how do you know that I am not your Sun God?"


    This only infuriated the man further. "You¡­ you¡­ YOU BLASPHEMOUS HERETICS! KILL THEM! KILL THEM ALL! AVENGE HIM IN THE NAME OF THE SUNGOD!"


    With that command, the men activated their magic. Nero felt a slight surge in the air as their power gathered. All at once, they raised their hands, and an enormous wave of pure light burst forth.


    Xersies shook his head in disappointment. "And here I was hoping for a decent fight..." he muttered sadly.


    Then, mere inches before the searing wave of light could strike them, he raised his clawed hand. He simply grabbed the wave, clenching his fist around it. In the blink of an eye, the massive attack vanished as if it had never existed.


    The men stared at Xersies in utter shock, their mouths agape. In their eyes, this unworthy demon just eradicated their strongest attack without breaking a sweat. But he just lifted his clenched fist into the air.


    "My Duce?" Xersies asked hopefully.


    Nero gave him a nod of approval.


    Xersies smiled sinisterly and without hesitation, he opened his fist. A blinding explosion of light burst forth, surging outward in all directions with unstoppable force. Only Nero and his allies remained unaffected. Xersies'' control over his magic was precise as always.


    The wave of light swept over the crowd, the soldiers, the entire village, and even the forest beyond. Nero shielded his eyes with a thin membrane of pure darkness, preventing himself from going blind. When he lowered the veil and looked around, there was nothing left but scorched earth. Every house, every man, every animal, every tree within a two-kilometer radius had been reduced to nothing but ash. This was Xersies'' full power. It was truly terrifying.


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    Xersies grinned. "Don''t worry my Duce, I of course spared one for you!"


    And indeed, in front of them, on the same spot, remained the leader of the group of men. The rest were all gone, disintegrated to dust.


    His face was pale, his eyes damaged by the brightness. He had been protected by a magical barrier, which was the only reason he had not been completely blinded. He blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of his surroundings. Then, as his gaze settled on Xersies, realization dawned upon him.


    In the next moment, he dropped to his knees and slammed his forehead against the ground.


    "It is truly you, oh great Sun God! I am sorry that we offended you! Please, spare my lowly life! I didn''t know it was you!" he begged in a trembling voice.


    Nero nodded in satisfaction. "Shire, take this man with us. He may still provide us with some useful information."


    Then, Nero turned to Fril. The small Polykenas and the fifth of his generals had been tasked with eliminating any fleeing villagers. However, since Xersies had already wiped out all living beings in a two-kilometer radius, he had returned.


    Nero had sensed him moving through the shadows behind him. He was fully aware that Fril was capable of remaining completely undetected even through magic. The fact that Nero noticed him meant he had done so deliberately.


    Fril crouched behind Xersies, one claw raised, ready to strike. His clothing bore scorch marks¡ªevidence of Xersies'' attack. Yet, as Nero turned to him, Fril let out a sigh and lowered his claw.


    "You burned me!" he hissed at Xersies from behind.


    Xersies turned around with a wide grin, feigning shock as he widened his golden eyes. "Oooh nooo! That was completely unintentional, I swear on the Sun God! I am sooo terribly sorry."


    Fril let out an angry hiss, his aura flaring to life. Xersies, still grinning, activated his own magic in response. A golden barrier formed around him as he taunted, "Come on then, kitty cat! Attack me!"


    Fril snarled and was just about to pounce when Nero interrupted them. "Enough! Stop with this nonsense."


    Immediately, both Polykenas took a step back, slowly retracting their magic. Nero fixed his gaze on Fril.


    "Fril, you know your mission. Go and gather as much information as possible about this world. If an opportunity arises, you may stir up some chaos by eliminating a few of their leaders. However, do not put yourself in unnecessary danger. Your highest priority is to collect intelligence and bring it back to me. Your second priority is to remain completely undetected¡ªno intelligent being should notice you unless you plan on eliminating them as well. You already know your time limit. As always, I will open the Rift after one year and if you are not there, I will open it three more times every week. Remember, the days are different on most planets, you have to track the time perfectly!"


    Fril nodded obediently. Without saying another word he turned, and vanished.


    After waiting for a few minutes, Nero reached into the darkness that was ever-present in his world. It surged down from the rift, wrapped around him, and pulled him upward.


    In the next instant, Nero stood once more upon the staircase of his realm.


    The first to follow was Xersies, who appeared beside him in a flash of light. Next was Shire, who leaped through. Ramor walked through effortlessly, symbols glowing beneath his feet. Lastly, Ester arrived, massive wings of pure blood unfurling from his back. Shire tossed the captured human onto the ground before them.


    "Ester, you''re probably the best among us at extracting secrets from humans. I mean, you''ve been doing it with organs for ages, so how hard can it be? Just try not to kill him before we get everything we need to know," Nero instructed.


    Ester nodded, seized the human, and dragged him away. Ramor followed him, stating that Ester would definitely need his supervision. Ester just sighed annoyed, but didn''t try to stop Ramor. The human did not resist¡ªhe seemed to have fully descended into madness, mumbling prayers to his god.


    Nero watched him go with disgust. He despised fanatics. They were pathetic, weak-minded fools who refused to accept responsibility, always blaming an imaginary god for their actions. If something went wrong, they would pin the blame on a so-called sinner, slaughtering them in cold blood. Fanatics were cowardly creatures.


    Shaking off his thoughts, Nero gazed into the distance. Xersies stood to his left, Shire to his right. They said nothing, allowing their leader to think.


    Conquering a new world was never without risks. For all they knew, an even stronger being could be waiting beyond the rift¡ªone who could obliterate even Xersies with a mere thought.


    Unlike his more reckless Polykenas, who would blindly charge in and destroy everything, Nero was careful. He always took precautions. And now, all they could do was wait. Fril''s mission would take one year. Only then would Nero reopen the portal.

 Chapter 9: Fril

    "My King, I have a request for you."


    An old farmer knelt in a magnificent throne room. It was not nearly as large as Nero''s, yet it compensated for its lack in size with overwhelming opulence.


    Everywhere, golden objects stood or hung in dazzling abundance. The walls were adorned with breathtaking paintings, undoubtedly crafted by a masterful artist.


    At the far end of the room, two thrones rested atop a grand pedestal. Seated on one was a man of middle age, his full brown beard neatly groomed, and his light blue eyes gleaming with intelligence. Upon his head rested a splendid golden crown, its elongated peaks adorned with embedded crimson jewels. Despite the grandeur surrounding him, the king''s face carried an air of warmth and kindness. Beside him, seated on a slightly lower throne, was a beautiful woman of similar age.


    Her golden hair shimmered beneath the delicate diadem she wore. These were the King and Queen of one of the greatest kingdoms in the world, Scur. Their influence was vast, and their relationships with other royal families were impeccable.


    "How may I help you, citizen?" the King asked kindly, his deep voice resonating through the chamber.


    The old man suddenly burst into tears. "Your Majesty, my land yields almost no harvest anymore. After decades of use, the soil has become hard and barren. I can no longer feed my two daughters..."


    The King patiently waited for the man to regain his composure. Then, with genuine concern in his voice, he asked, "How can we help you?"


    The farmer sniffled. "All I need is a little money to purchase new land. I swear by the Sun God, I will repay you by working that land and providing food for others!"


    That was an outrageous display of audacity. He was merely a farmer of the kingdom, tasked with providing food for the land, yet he painted himself as some kind of saint¡ªselfless and noble¡ªsimply for doing his duty!


    But the king didn''t seem to take offense; he merely let out a quiet sigh. "Very well. I shall grant you enough gold to purchase new land for yourself. Lancet," he looked at an old man, standing in the back of the room, "Please bring this man enough gold to buy a new Farm for himself and his daughters."


    The man called Lancet immediately obeyed. After he left for a few moments, he came back with a heavy sack. You could distinctly hear the sound of coins clinking together. He gave the sack to the old man.


    "Thank you, King! Your generosity knows no bounds. Truly, you are a man of great kindness¡ªthat is why we all hold you in such high regard!"


    The farmer, overwhelmed with gratitude, bowed repeatedly, showering the King with thanks. The king merely waved his hand, signaling him to leave. However, the man hesitated.


    "Is there something else?" the King asked, his brows furrowing slightly.


    The old farmer dared to push his luck. "Your Majesty, I am old. I can no longer work the fields alone, and the Sun God only gave me two daughters. I must beg for your generosity once more¡ªI need funds to hire help. Just enough for a few slaves!"


    The King''s expression darkened. He gazed at the farmer intently. "Very well, we will grant you one slave¡ªbut no more!"


    Yet, the farmer did not leave. Instead, fresh tears welled up in his eyes. "How could one slave possibly be enough? I need at least four!"


    At this, all warmth drained from the King''s face. He slowly rose from his throne and strode toward the kneeling farmer. The old man looked up at him hopefully, believing his request might be granted. But the King knelt before him and spoke in a low, measured voice:


    "You foolish man. Who do you think I am? Your servant? Your vassal? You dare come into my palace and seek aid¡ªI grant it. Then you plead for slaves¡ªI grant you one. But your greed is boundless. Did you truly believe you could manipulate me so easily? With your little tears?"


    The farmer trembled at these words. "No... no. Forgive me! One slave is enough¡ªthank you, Your Majesty!"


    "Oh no," the King said, his voice laced with cold amusement. "I will not give you a slave."


    The old farmer looked up in horror. "But, Your Majesty... what about my daughters?"


    The King smiled gently. "Do not worry. I will ensure they receive plenty of gold."


    Relief washed over the farmer''s face. "Thank you, thank you!"


    The King chuckled. "Why do you thank me? I am only giving them the money I will receive when I sell you as a slave."


    The farmer turned deathly pale. "W-what are you saying, Majesty? I do not wish to be a slave!"


    "You should have thought of that before you let your greed consume you," the King replied. Then, turning to his guards, he ordered, "Take him to the nearest slave market. Whatever price you fetch for him, add thirty gold coins and give it to his daughters. Bring them to the palace¡ªthey cannot be expected to handle such wealth on their own. They would be stabbed and robbed in an instant!"


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    The guards obeyed immediately, dragging the old man away as he cried out in despair. The King sank back onto his throne and waved for the next person to enter.


    The King was a dangerous man. He was kind enough to be loved by his people, yet ruthless enough to be feared by his enemies. He ruled with an iron fist, yet his interpersonal skills were so refined that people saw him as generous and merciful.


    He would ensure that the farmer''s story spread far and wide¡ªtwisted, exaggerated beyond recognition, until it seemed as though the man had gravely insulted him.


    The people would believe the punishment was justified, especially after he took in the farmer''s daughters. And should anyone dare to tell the truth, their words would be dismissed as slander.


    That day, dozens more seekers came to him, requesting aid or wisdom. When the final man left, the King''s mask of benevolence faded, replaced by cold indifference. He rose from his throne and turned to his queen.


    "Come, my darling. Let us retire to our chambers."


    The Queen said nothing, merely rising and following her husband out of the throne room.


    The guards in the chamber began to relax. Some people took their seats, while others formed small groups and brought out dice to play games.


    They had the night shift; none would swap with them until morning, so they made themselves comfortable.


    There were exactly thirty-three guards in the throne room¡ªyet not a single one noticed the creature lurking in the farthest, darkest corner.


    Draped in black, its eyes as void-like as a starless night, the figure remained utterly still.


    It was, of course, none other than General Fril. He had deliberately changed the color of his eyes¡ªa simple trick, but effective in preventing their usual yellow glow from giving away his presence.


    Fril was no white Polykenas, capable of bending and manipulating his surroundings, but he possessed absolute control over his own body. His senses were sharpened to such an extreme that he could perceive every sound, every movement, and every scent within the room.


    His eyes flickered from guard to guard, filled with calculating intelligence.


    Fril was not the only assassin in the Polykenas army, but he was undoubtedly the strongest and most cunning of them.


    He knew precisely when to strike and when to bide his time. Unlike others of his kind, he wielded an immense self-control that set him apart. The urge for destruction lay buried deep within him, as it did in all Polykenas, yet he was second only to Xersies in his ability to restrain it. Fril was Xersies'' greatest threat before the Duce found them, and Xersies knew it.


    Ramor, Shire, and Ester were all stronger than Fril, but they lacked his motivation and cunning.


    Fril did not act recklessly¡ªhe studied his targets, struck only when victory was certain, and withdrew the moment a battle turned against him. Xersies found this terrifying. A hidden dagger was far deadlier than a brandished sword. Knowledge was one of the three greatest weapons in war, alongside power and intelligence. Know your enemy and yourself, and you will never lose.


    But no one knew Fril. He had appeared out of nowhere. At first, no one even realized he existed¡ªuntil dozens of Polykenas started dying mysteriously.


    When he clawed his way up the hierarchy, challenging Shire, he was finally discovered.


    Shire defeated him forty-three times, yet Fril always returned. He learned, adapted, and finally managed to wound Shire badly. Xersies saw the threat Fril posed and took measures to suppress him.


    Then Fril did something Xersies had never anticipated¡ªhe attacked him directly! Xersies had expected him to target Ramor or perhaps Ester, but Fril seemed to neither fear nor respect strength.


    Their battle raged on for over a hundred rounds. Again and again, Xersies emerged victorious, forcing Fril to retreat. Yet, with each clash, Xersies could feel Fril adapting¡ªcountering his attacks with increasing precision. He considered seeking out Ramor, only to discover that Ramor himself had been ambushed and was gravely injured.


    Their relentless struggle only came to an end when Nero arrived in their dimension and took his place as their leader. When choosing his generals, Nero handpicked Ramor, Ester, Xersies, and Shire. Initially, he had only intended to name four. However, it was Xersies himself who suggested Fril.


    No one understood the capabilities of this cunning Polykenas better than Xersies, and above all else, his duty was to advise his Duce wisely.

 Chapter 10: Assasination

    The guards grew increasingly boisterous and joyful. Sometime during the night, someone had brought out beer, and they began drinking. Not too much, of course, or they would be caught the next morning, but enough to unwind and relax. They laughed, gambled, argued, and some even fell asleep.


    Fril remained still in the same spot. He was waiting for the perfect moment.


    When he sensed that the guards'' vigilance was at its lowest, he felt that the time was ripe. He spotted one guard, who was sleeping. A cold spark appeared in Fril''s eyes. His lust for murder was ignited.


    Moving silently through the darkness, he crept up on the lone guard, ensuring that no one was watching. With lightning speed and precision, he attacked. The man didn''t even have a chance to make a sound before Fril had torn his throat out and dragged him into the shadows. The process lasted only a few heartbeats. It showed the talent Fril had in the assassination.


    Now, there was no more waiting. Though he was so fast in killing the man, that no one of the other thirty-two guards could spot him, it was only a matter of time before someone noticed that a guard was missing. He had to act now. He leaped up to the ceiling, gliding effortlessly over the beautiful paintings like a creature far too large to be a mere spider. The Guards were too distracted to spot him on the high ceiling.


    Fril thought carefully about his next steps. Killing everyone without being detected was nearly impossible, yet the moment someone saw him, they would raise the alarm.


    The Duce had explicitly ordered him not to draw unnecessary attention to himself. If the humans found traces of the Polykenas too early, they could gather and prepare. Even if the Duce wins the war, the losses would be uncountable.


    His gaze drifted toward the door leading to the king''s chambers, but dozens of guards stood in front of it. He had spent several days observing the king''s palace, scaling the walls under the cover of night in search of another entrance.


    However, there were no windows in the entire fortress¡ªonly small holes to allow fresh air to flow in. Fril couldn''t fit through those. He could strengthen and alter his body, but shrinking wasn''t an option.


    Fril had the power to destroy the walls, but that would draw even more attention. Worse still, he didn''t even know the exact location of the king''s chambers.


    This was his best way in, but if he wanted to get past the guards, he had to kill them all. No one could see him and live to tell the tale.


    A smile crept across Fril''s face. He loved challenges. Killing the guards was easy. He could take down a hundred more without breaking a sweat. The true challenge was eliminating them all without allowing anyone to escape or raise the alarm.


    One was already dead; thirty-two more remained.


    But Fril had already devised a plan. He slowly crept toward the center of the throne room. Hanging from a sturdy chain was a massive golden chandelier. He reached for it, and with a swift strike, severed the chain. Before the chandelier could even begin to fall, Fril darted across the ceiling toward the door where three guards stood watch.


    With a deafening crash, the chandelier hit the floor. The oil in its many holders splattered in all directions, sending flames leaping and thick smoke billowing into the air. Alarmed shouts erupted from the guards, their attention fixed on the burning wreckage.


    Fril moved swiftly. While the thick smoke still obscured their vision, he struck. Silent and precise, he slaughtered twelve guards on one side of the room. Before the dust could settle, he had already crossed to the other side, hidden in the shadows, striking again and again. Only after he had removed twenty-two guards from the gene pool did someone finally notice what was happening.


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    A startled cry rang out.


    That cry alerted the others. They turned, their gazes landing on the fallen bodies. Swords were drawn in an instant. One of the guards bolted toward the long rope hanging beside the throne. If he pulled it, the massive bell in the fortress tower would ring, alerting everyone.


    But how could Fril not foresee this?


    The moment the guard yanked the rope, it snapped and fell uselessly to the ground.


    Panic spread among the remaining men. The leader of the guards barked orders, telling two of them to run outside and alert the sentries on the walls. But Fril was faster. Before they reached the doors, he had already cut them down.


    He no longer cared if he was seen.


    The other guards cried out in horror when they laid eyes on him. Some called out to their god, others screamed "Demon!" But their prayers were in vain. They swung their swords wildly, some even tried to escape, but Fril was too fast. In just one minute, he had slain them all.


    Stepping toward the main gate of the throne room, he placed his hands on the golden throne and, with inhuman strength, shoved it against the entrance. To further secure it, he reinforced the blockade with a thick steel-reinforced wooden beam.


    He didn''t know if anyone outside had heard the commotion. It was unlikely, the walls were solid and the gate was massive. And from Fril''s inspections on the past few days, he knew the guards on the wall were far apart. Many years without trouble also made them lazy. Fril could have killed them all the last night¡ªthere was no doubt about that¡ªbut then he wouldn''t have been able to slip into the throne room undetected.


    When he had dropped the chandelier and distracted the guards, he could have easily left the room through the door that led to the king''s chamber, but getting back in unnoticed would have been far more difficult. Not impossible, of course, but Fril enjoyed creating as much chaos as possible.


    There were two reasons for this. First, it made him stronger. When the main armies clashed, his abilities would be far less useful. He wouldn''t be able to cause as much destruction.


    Second, spreading fear among the people would work in his favor. The kings and rulers would grow paranoid, making it much harder for them to coordinate once the Duce attacked.


    Obviously, Fril also enjoyed it immensely!


    After securing the gate, he turned his attention to the door the king had passed through earlier. He waited. If someone was behind it, they would have surely heard the destruction by now.


    But after an hour of silence, Fril lost patience. With a swift strike, he shattered the door and stepped into a long corridor dimly lit by torches.


    He quickly extinguished them¡ªthe darkness was his greatest ally.


    Moving cautiously, he checked each door he passed. He would knock once. If no answer came after ten minutes, he broke it down and retreated into the shadows.


    The fortress''s architect had clearly feared assassins, as there were no windows or alternative exits. While this design was effective against ordinary killers, for Fril, it was a gift. He didn''t need to worry about guarding entrances or preventing anyone from escaping.


    His senses were on high alert, listening for the slightest noise. It wasn''t long before he heard footsteps.


    He reached a crossroads. To the right and left, two brightly lit hallways extended into the distance. Two guards stood at attention in each, torches in hand. Unlike the ones in the throne room, these men were motionless, tense, and highly alert.


    They took their duty seriously.


    Fril hissed quietly in irritation. The halls were fully illuminated, and the ceilings were too low for him to move undetected above them. But the situation was not hopeless.


    Opening his mouth, he revealed long, razor-sharp teeth. His tongue was black and unnaturally long. Reaching into a side pouch, he withdrew two small daggers. He spat onto their tips. Then, preparing himself, he leaped from the darkness into the light.


    One of the men noticed him immediately, but Fril was faster. He hurled his daggers. Both struck their targets. His saliva was a powerful neurotoxin. Within seconds, the men collapsed, unconscious. Blood pooled rapidly beneath their bodies, but Fril had already turned toward the other two guards.


    The first barely had time to react before Fril reached him. With a single, swift blow, he crushed the man''s skull. Using the falling corpse as leverage, he leaped off it and drove his claws through the armor of the final guard. The man let out a choked gasp before Fril tore out his heart.


    He collapsed, twitching, and then was still.


    In mere seconds, all four men were dead.


    Fril quickly moved between the torches, extinguishing them one by one.


    For nearly an hour, he prowled through the castle, moving through rooms and corridors, silently eliminating every guard he encountered. Darkness swallowed the fortress. Only the torches near the windows remained lit¡ªanyone outside would notice if they were missing.


    Finally, as Fril rounded another corner, he saw before him a massive double door. He instantly knew it was the king''s private chamber. But it was not unguarded.


    Seated cross-legged before it was a giant of a man.


    The moment Fril turned the corner, the man opened his eyes¡ªdespite Fril having made no sound.


    Fril froze.


    An immense magical aura radiated from the man.