Guy's command echoed across the icy halls of his palace.
"Rain. Misery. Go tell the Demon Lords that a Walpurgis will take place tomorrow. This one… is urgent."
The two maids bowed low.
"As you command, Lord Guy," Rain said, her voice crisp.
"We'll make sure they understand the gravity," Misery added, her tone solemn.
In the next breath, both vanished into mist, leaving behind a faint shimmer of dark magic.
Silence returned to the throne room, heavy with tension. Snow howled outside as Guy turned back to Velgrynd, who stood in quiet turmoil.
"I warned you last time," Guy muttered, his crimson eyes burning. "When you and Rudra came here together—I told you to be careful with Varvatos. He's not just some upstart warrior. He's a being outside the cycle. And now Rudra wants to attack him? Has he lost his damn mind?"
Velgrynd's expression was taut. "He's changing, Guy. I see it in his eyes. He's colder. Less… himself. I don't know what's happening, but it's not just ambition."
Guy scoffed, though there was no humor in it. "If he attacks Varvatos… he's not just risking a war. He's threatening the balance of the entire world. And if he goes through with it… believe me, Velgrynd—he'll suffer a fate worse than death. Not even you will be able to stop what comes next."
Velgrynd didn't flinch. Her silence was an answer in itself.
Elsewhere, in a distant dimension unreachable by mortal paths, the Heavenly Palace shone beneath a sky of stars that never moved. Once the seat of Veldanava, it now stood frozen in time—divine halls echoing with memory and sorrow.
There, beneath a radiant crystal canopy, stood Feldway, the First Angel. His white robes shimmered faintly with cosmic energy, and his perfect, serene face masked the storm within.
He stared into a vision orb suspended by light itself—an image of Rudra, alone in his Imperial Citadel.
Feldway said nothing.
He simply watched.
Waited.
Trusted.
The work was not his to do.
Michael would handle it.
Within Rudra's soul—a vast, quiet space like a cold void stretching to infinity—something stirred.
Emperor Rudra stood on the edge of a mental cliff, overlooking an endless chasm of memory and power. His mind had been a battlefield lately, thoughts no longer felt like his own. His dreams bled into his waking moments. He had stopped sleeping days ago.
Then, as if summoned by the very erosion of his will… a voice came.
"You feel it, don't you?"
Rudra turned sharply—though in this place, turning was more like thought. The voice echoed from nowhere and everywhere at once.
"That heaviness in your chest. That flicker of doubt in your loyal soldiers' eyes. The creeping weakness in your own resolve. They've begun to question you."
Rudra gritted his teeth. "No one questions me."
"They will," the voice replied calmly. "Even Velgrynd is slipping away. You know it. You've seen her hesitation. She doesn't understand the weight you carry. But I do."
The space around Rudra pulsed—lightless, suffocating.
He staggered.
"You were chosen," the voice whispered. "To lead this world. To guide it toward true order. But now? You hesitate because of one anomaly… one Varvatos."
A sharp pain spiked through Rudra's skull. He dropped to one knee.
"Varvatos… he's powerful. More than I expected. But is he really a threat?"
"He is more than a threat. He is a crack in the foundation of destiny."
"He is the unknown that Veldanava never accounted for. And you, Rudra—you were created to uphold what Veldanava began."
Rudra's breathing was ragged now. Sweat beaded on his brow in the real world, though no one saw.
"You can still fix this. You can still fulfill your purpose. But you must act. Before others interfere. Before Velgrynd betrays you. Before Guy stands in your way. Before Varvatos reshapes the world into his own."
Rudra's hands curled into fists.
"I… I won't fail. I can't fail."
"Then prove it."
"Eliminate the flaw."
"Erase Varvatos."
A silence followed, long and deep.
And then—Rudra stood.
Within his soul, something had shifted.
Something dark and resolute.
Outside, in the Imperial Citadel, his eyes opened—glowing faintly, subtly—golden light flickering within his pupils.
A general knocked at the door.
"Your Majesty," the voice said. "The armies await your order."
Rudra rose from his throne, his tone flat, absolute.
"Prepare the march. We move in a week."
Back in the Heavenly Palace, Feldway smiled faintly as he felt the subtle ripple of will.
He didn't need to say a word.
Michael was doing exactly what he was designed to do.
The vast obsidian dome that housed Walpurgis was draped in a mantle of shadow and light, suspended between dimensions. Arcane glyphs pulsed along the crystalline walls, casting a haunting glow across the long, circular table. One by one, ancient seats carved with the insignias of power flickered to life as their masters arrived.
The last time they gathered here, the air was filled with tension. But today—today it was dread.
Guy Crimson, the Lord of Darkness, stood at the center. His crimson gaze swept over the chamber. Around him, the most powerful beings of the Cardinal World had assembled:
Milim Nava, the destroyer, sat backward on her chair, arms crossed, frowning with curiosity.
Ramiris, tiny but sharp-eyed, hovered beside her throne of vines and crystal.
Luminous Valentine, radiating divine majesty, remained still, unreadable behind her silver fan.
Leon Cromwell, the platinum saber, rested his chin on his knuckles, silent but alert.
Draguel, the giant aura barely contained, arms folded as he stood tall in humanoid form.
Dino, the drowsy fallen angel, tried to stay awake but was now visibly alert.
Frey, regal and composed, exchanged glances with Carrion, whose beastly aura simmered with tension.
Clayman, smirking as usual looked uncertain.
And finally—Velgrynd, the Flame Dragon, stood beside Guy, not seated, her expression carved from stone.
The tension was already choking the room.
Guy raised a hand, voice calm—but every syllable echoed like thunder.
"This Walpurgis is unlike any we've held before. I didn't summon you here lightly."
He paused. No one interrupted.
"The Emperor of the Eastern Empire, Rudra... is preparing to launch an attack against Varvatos and Nyvaris."
Silence.
And then chaos.
Milim's eyes widened. "WHAT?!" she nearly screamed, her voice cracking the air.
Leon sat forward immediately. "That's insane," he said sharply. "Doesn't he know what Varvatos is capable of?."
Frey blinked in disbelief. "Why would he even consider that? Didn't he see what we all saw?"
Ramiris squeaked, "Is he suicidal?! Varvatos literally froze time around us like we were bugs!"
Dino, fully awake now, exhaled and rubbed his temples. "This… this isn't just bold. This is catastrophic."
Carrion slammed a fist into the table. "What the hell is he thinking?! He's not just putting himself in danger—this could destabilize everything!"
Luminous's voice was soft but piercing. "No mortal—or immortal—who witnessed what Nyvaris did in this very room would dare provoke such a being."
Guy let them vent. Let the storm rage for a moment before raising a hand again.
Silence fell once more.
"I went to Nyvaris," Guy said. "I stood before Varvatos. I felt his presence. I saw another glimpse of his will. And I left that place with the certainty that if any of us were to challenge him, even together… we would fall."
Everyone listened now with the weight of eternity on their backs.
Velgrynd stepped forward, voice steeled. "I was there with Rudra. I saw it too. And yet… he's changed. He's no longer thinking clearly. He's convinced himself that Varvatos is a threat to the world. He's convinced himself that this war is necessary."
Ramiris fluttered closer. "You think he's… being controlled?"
Velgrynd shook her head. "I don't know. But he's different. Distant. Cold. Like something else is guiding his hand. I can't reach him. No one can."
Leon frowned. "And yet… even Rudra should know better."
Guy turned to the group, voice heavier than before.
"That's why we're here. Because if Rudra goes through with this… he will not just die. He will doom the Cardinal World."
"Varvatos is not a rival monarch. He's not a rival nation. He's a god-killer. A force written into the bones of reality. He is not someone you attack."
The gravity of Guy's words settled deep.
Clayman, cautious, muttered, "Can we not intervene? Send messengers? Force negotiations?"
Draguel's gaze was hard. "If Rudra already made up his mind, then words may be useless."
Milim stood up, pacing. "I don't like this. If we let him attack Varvatos… we all get pulled into the aftermath. But attacking Rudra first? That's war against the Empire."
Carrion grunted. "What choice do we have?"
Luminous sighed, lowering her fan. "We're cornered either way."
Dino tilted his head. "Unless… we show Rudra what he's risking. Hit him with truth before he can move."
Leon nodded slowly. "If we could delay his forces… buy time… we might corner him politically."
Guy stepped away from the center of the circle, letting the rest of the Demon Lords argue, discuss, plan. But inside—he was already seeing the darkness forming.
"This is bigger than Rudra's pride," he whispered. "Something else is at play…"
Velgrynd moved to his side.
"Then let's root it out. Before Rudra pays the price."
Guy turned to her, serious.
"If it comes down to it... will you be able to fight him?"
Velgrynd hesitated. Pain flickered in her crimson eyes.
But she nodded.
"If it means saving him… and the world… yes."
The Demon Lords' conversation continued into the night—strategy, possibility, consequences. But over all of it loomed one name.
Varvatos.