Tasha stared at Victor.
Amidst the scattered fragments, she glimpsed Victor's essence—the formidable killer who laughed while taking lives, the mad teacher who taught her soul dissection step by step, the cunning strategist who orchestrated schemes from the shadows. The Book of Dungeons was a mascot-like, half-baked villain, while the complete version of the Archfiend Victor was a true demonic entity—a unique malevolent force, a dangerous adversary. Yet between the battered mascot and the demon lord at the apex of the food chain, Tasha saw Victor as he had been before his prime for the very first time.
Through the elf mage's divination, Tasha witnessed Victor's arrival on the Material Plane during his first demonic calamity. She saw the instant he evolved from monster to demon—a transformation like a chrysalis breaking its shell. Before the true emergence, you cannot know if the cocoon holds a butterfly or a poisonous moth.
Victor was both. He was neither.
He killed rabbits, hounds, hunters; he killed children, strong men, the wounded. Yet after long hesitation, he lingered out of pure curiosity—gazing at campfires, listening to ballads, catching snowflakes in his hands. Tasha watched this newborn demon cloaked in human skin, gazing at the pristine snow with childlike innocence.
"How beautiful," he murmured.
At this sight, Tasha knew Victor had passed the test.
"I've never seen a demon with positive emotions. Unbelievable," the elf mage marveled.
"He's likely one of a kind," Tasha replied.
If the test had been "Is Victor evil?", this trial would have ended in certain defeat. Victor was a demon from the Abyss. Whether it was the memories from his time as a Greater Demon, the soul fragments he left behind, or the often-foolish Dungeon Book, everything—absolutely everything—belonged to the evil alignment. Victor delighted in harming others for personal gain, occasionally harming others without benefit to himself. His cruelty had been evident for a long time, glimpsed in the pitiful creatures he had pierced through. Had the elf mage demanded he harbor no ill will toward the Material Plane, all would have been lost the moment that rabbit fell.
However, the elf mage declared: He did not believe a soul from the Abyss could possess even a shred of goodwill toward the creatures of the Material Plane.
Though he'd misjudged his test subject at first, Tasha remained convinced Victor would pass. His malice might outweigh his kindness—he'd survived multiple demonic calamities and would choose the Abyss's side—yet his "kindness" was undeniably real. Even a spoonful of goodness was enough to set Victor apart from other Abyssal fiends.
Victor was an intriguing demon.
"He truly is unique," the elven mage remarked meaningfully. "I've never seen a major demon remain in Eryan after the War of Heaven and Earth—not even a shattered fragment of a soul. In fact, all demon lords departed of their own accord before the war even began."
"Left of their own accord?" Tashar said, suddenly recalling the white lightning mage Sophia.
What was the Abyss planning? That white-robed mage had said this while blocking Victor: the demon lords and high-ranking demons on the ground were steadily withdrawing their avatars and key minions. What exactly were they up to?
"No one knows what brought these madmen to consensus. They've fought enough wars across heaven and earth and now intend to overturn the entire board." The elf mage's brow furrowed deeply. "All demon lords have withdrawn from the Material Plane. At first, we thought it was merely a lull before a new war erupted. Until we discovered... they seek to destroy the Material Plane itself."
The Abyss is humanity's greatest enemy, but strictly speaking, the Abyss's true enemy is not the Material Plane.
For demons, the Material Plane is merely a necessary passage to the Celestial Realm—a staging ground and supply hub for waging war against the heavens. The souls of mortal beings are but sustenance for demons. Would you harbor goodwill or hatred toward your food? Likewise, the Abyss devours the Material Plane solely to carve a corrupted passage to the Celestial Realm. Mass casualties are merely a welcome bonus, not the ultimate goal.
The Celestial Realm operates identically. Replace "souls" with "faith," 'slaughter' with "enslavement," and the deeds of celestial beings mirror those of the Abyss.
This is why, despite centuries of war between the Heavens and the Abyss, Eryan—caught between them—has never been reduced to ruins. The descent of true-form deities and demon lords could shatter vast swathes of the plane, much like the emergence of the Wrath Demon Saemon. With such overwhelming power on both sides, unleashed without restraint, the Material Plane would be shattered beyond repair. Yet even the most deranged demons harbor no intent to destroy Eryan. For if the stairway between realms were destroyed, how could they wage war against the Celestial Realm?
Heaven and the Abyss had long fought across the void, using the mortal realm as their battlefield and chessboard. But one day, the demon lords grew weary of the game, tired of the endless struggle against their natural enemies. They withdrew from the Material Plane, plotting a dreadful forbidden spell to shatter the mortal realm into pure energy fragments—a desperate act akin to killing the goose that lays the golden eggs.
Fortunately, the creatures of the Material Plane discovered this plot in time.
This was the origin of the Erian Declaration.
"Truthfully," the elf mage remarked with a hint of sarcasm, "it was the Oracle of the Prophecy Goddess who first revealed this news. But at that time, a new profession—the Diviner—was rising. They required neither divine oracles nor lineage, instead calculating the future by tracing the paths of the stars. Some clergy deemed blasphemous discovered methods to steal divine spellcasting through sheer willpower. Together with the diviners, they uncovered another truth: the Celestial Realm was doing the same thing."
The Celestials' actions were always far more circuitous than the Abyss'.
Perhaps they couldn't resist after seeing the Abyss move first, or maybe their plans were what prompted the Abyss to want to overturn the entire chessboard. Who could say? In any case, the Celestial Realm also intended to strike at the Material Plane. They were merely crying thief to unite with mortals and eliminate the Abyss first, ensuring their own exclusive seat at the table.
"So the Material Plane allied with the Celestial Realm first?" Tashar asked, already suspecting the answer.
"Yes. Each harboring their own agenda, feigning cooperation—merely playing their respective games," the elf mage snorted coldly.
Tasha's conjecture aligned with scholarly theories: creatures of the Material Plane did not wage war against both Heaven and the Abyss simultaneously. Heaven sought to exploit the mortal realm, while mortals sought to exploit Heaven. Their initial target was the Abyss. Given the Abyss's notoriously evil reputation, this alliance appeared merely an expanded version of the campaign against demonic scourges.
But even so, questions remained.
" You claim no demon lords could interfere in the Material Plane after the War of Heaven and Earth," Tasha pressed, "then what caused the Abyssal corruption that followed?"
If the Celestials truly sought to expel the Abyss entirely, with the cooperation of the Material Plane's creatures, they should not have missed their arch-enemy's final move.
"Because of foolishness," the elf mage replied with a bitter smile. "Because of arrogance. Because of greed."
Beyond the heroic deeds worthy of eternal praise, the grand War of Heaven and Earth also harbored unsavory truths.
The Celestials sought to use mortal races as pawns in their war, expecting to reap the rewards. Yet they miscalculated—the Planeswalkers' Alliance, united under the Eryan Declaration, aimed their blades at both sides from the very start. During the nearly half-century of humanity and the Celestial Realm fighting side-by-side against the Abyss, Eryan's coalition secretly sought ways to counter the Celestial Realm itself.
The Celestial Realm had taught humanity how to expel the Abyss. With their aid, the Material Plane could permanently seal the Abyss's portals—not merely block them temporarily, waiting for the next invasion. By extension, the mortal alliance similarly uncovered a method to permanently expel the Celestial Realm. Yet, even with the Celestial Realm's aid, Eryan had spent nearly half a century banishing the Abyss. Once the Abyss was expelled, how much more would Eryan have to sacrifice to confront the Celestial Realm in such a severely weakened state?
Different individuals held differing opinions. Even when pursuing the same goal, disputes inevitably arose, sometimes becoming endless and threatening to tear the alliance apart. Consensus proved difficult even among nations within a single race—how much more so among the myriad races inhabiting a single world? As victory drew near, the arguments over what to do after the Abyss War only intensified.
It must be said that under such circumstances, the factions of Erian had already achieved the remarkable feat of preserving secrecy and preventing the Celestials from detecting their plans.
Problems must always be resolved. A small group decided to take a desperate gamble.
If they could use the Celestials' hand to expel the Abyss, could they then use the Abyss to expel the Celestials?
It sounded fantastical, but it was not impossible.
This was the decision of a handful of black-robed mages, Abyss worshippers, and witches—arguably the most powerful and knowledgeable group on the surface regarding the Abyss. Their strength and knowledge fueled their confidence. What exactly they did remains unknown; only their outcome is recorded.
They successfully harnessed demonic power, just as others had once harnessed celestial beings. After the Abyss was banished, the demonic energy they had deceitfully obtained remained in their grasp. Soon after, they stabbed the Celestials in the back, severing the connection between the Celestial Realm and the Material Plane using the very power of the Abyss.
It proved to be a far cleaner and more decisive act than banishing the Abyss itself.
It was a great victory. Most weary warriors, unaware of the truth, cheered the heroes who had accomplished it. A small few who knew the details praised this unconventional move. Even those who disapproved of such ruthless means had to admit it reduced potential casualties and prolonged warfare by a hundredfold. The Abyss War had raged for half a century, yet the Heavenly War lasted barely over a year.
Calling it a miraculous victory would not be an exaggeration.
Alas, it soon became clear that such a miracle, seemingly handed down from the heavens, did not exist.
Among those who had made pacts with demons, some died inexplicably, some went mad, some vanished, and others were proven to have long succumbed to demonic temptation or the Abyss's corruption. The spell banishing the Celestial Realm seemed flawless at first, but soon, the Abyss's taint emerged where the Celestial Realm had vanished.