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.

leuan 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 he pointed at the advancing darkness.

leuan swallowed his terror and turned to Stebarin. “Mr. Hemato, when their leader arrives, I’ll need you to negotiate for me. As long as he agrees to submit to me, I’ll give him half of level six.”

Stebarin answered with a cold, amused snort. He believed none of leuan’s grand promises; instead, he settled in place to watch the ambitious statesman humiliate himself.

Moments later, the Demonic Soul Army halted beneath the city like a living abyss.