On the ramparts of Celestia City, clouds as black as spilled ink pressed low, squeezing out a rain so dark it looked like liquid night. Each droplet hissed with demonic aura, cracking against the battlements.
Ieuan braced both hands on the slick stone, his pulse hammering. In the distance, a moving shadow swallowed mountains and rivers alike.
It was the Demonic Soul Army, one hundred thousand strong. Wherever that tide rolled, valleys split, forests died, and daylight simply ceased to exist.
“Sir, the Demonic Soul Army is at the walls!” his most trusted adviser squeaked, nearly sobbing as pointed at the advancing darkness.
Ieuan swallowed his terror and turned to Stebarin. “Mr. Hemato, when their leader arrives, I’ll need you to negotiate for me. As long as agrees to submit to me, I’ll give half of level six.”
Stebarin answered with a cold, amused snort. He believed none of Ieuan’s grand promises, instead, settled in place to watch the ambitious statesman humiliate himself.
Moments later, the Demonic Soul Army halted beneath the city like a living abyss.
High above them hovered Soul Devourer, a phantom tower of darkness whose towering silhouette blotted out every torch. Pressure from his Human Immortal Realm aura struck the Guardian Army like a physical weight, crushing soldiers to their knees before many even realized they had bowed.
“Insignificant beings…” Soul Devourer thundered, the words cracking the air. “Open the gates and swear fealty, and perhaps you will be spared!”
The very wall shivered beneath the volume of that command, dust drifting from ancient mortar.
Summoning every shred of courage, Ieuan rose into the air until faced that towering shade. Hands clasped, called, “My Lord, I am Ieuan Chapman, prime minister of Celestia. Bend your army to my rule, and we shall govern level six together. Wealth and glory beyond measure await you!”
A flare of mockery flickered in the hollow pits where Soul Devourer’s eyes should have been. He lifted one vast hand, and the sky itself seemed to fall.
The blow struck Ieuan before could even raise a defense. He pin-wheeled backward like a severed kite, slammed into the wall, and vomited blood. Several ribs snapped with an audible crack.
“Submit to you? Know your place, you pathetic clown,” Soul Devourer rasped, contempt dripping from every syllable. “Do you really think you’re fit to negotiate with me?”
Ieuan lay sprawled across the battlement, every breath a wave of agony. He had never imagined that the power of the Soul Devourer could be so terrifying. He couldn’t even defend against a single strike.
Terror quickly surged through him, drowning every fragment of earlier ambition.
Stebarin shot into the bruised sky like a streak of crimson smoke, cloak snapping behind him. Halfway between the battlements and the roiling clouds, halted, folded his arms, then dropped into a deep, reverent bow.
“My Lord, I am Stebarin Hemato, grand elder of Malevolent Path Hall,” said, voice echoing like a funeral bell across the field. “I, too, am a Demonic Cultivator, which means I’m on your side. Ieuan is ignorant, so if has offended you, please forgive him!”
Soul Devourer drifted forward, hollow eyes gleaming with violet flame. His tone out like winter steel. “Since you’re a Demonic Cultivator, submit to me. As for Celestia City, they can either open the gates and surrender or let every living thing inside be ground to dust.”
Stebarin’s swiftly nodded. “As you wish, My Lord…”
He wheeled on the wall, scarlet gaze spearing the prime minister. “Ieuan Chapman, open the gates and surrender this instant. Or are you going to stand by and let the city turn to ash?”
Ieuan staggered upright, knees buckling beneath brocade armor.
The Demonic Soul Army seethed below him; behind, the Guardian Army quivered, knuckles white on spears. One truth hammered his ribs, resist, and they would be wiped out.
His voice cracked, yet the words escaped. “Relay my command! Open the gates. Pledge fealty to our lord, Soul Devourer!”
“W-What? The prime minister wants us to kneel to demons?” a young guardsman exclaimed, disbelief ringing off the stone.
Another shouted, “Never! We are soldiers of Celestia. We will never bow to demons!”
A third bared his blade, spit flying. “If we must die, we’ll die fighting the demons!”
The parapet erupted. Armor clanged, oaths collided with prayer.
Most of the soldiers were native-born citizens of Celestia, nurtured by its blessings for generations. Moreover, they were the high and mighty celestials.
How could they yield to demons?
Their city already held a low status among the celestials. and if they were to submit to the demons, their entire kingdom would be branded with eternal disgrace.
