Far beyond the borders of the fractured Empire—
Past mountains no map dared to name—
Past lands where even monsters feared to wander—
There was a throne.
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It was not made of gold.
Not carved by artisans.
Not blessed by gods.
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It was built from bones.
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The sky above it never changed.
No sun.
No stars.
Only a dim, suffocating red—
As if the world itself had been wounded and never healed.
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Upon that throne sat a being no one alive had ever seen—
And lived.
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The Demon King.
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A messenger trembled at the base of the steps.
Kneeling.
Head pressed to the ground.
Body shaking so violently it seemed he might break apart.
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"M-My Lord…"
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Silence answered him.
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"…Speak."
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The voice was quiet.
Not loud.
Not angry.
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Worse.
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It was calm.
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"The Human Empire…" the messenger stammered. "The Emperor has… fallen."
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Silence.
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The air grew heavier.
Thicker.
Harder to breathe.
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"…Fallen?"
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"Yes, my lord!"
"No army was detected! No invasion, no war—he was simply… erased!"
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A pause.
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"…Erased."
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The word echoed.
Not in the room—
But in the bones of everything present.
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Then—
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The Demon King laughed.
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It was not loud.
But it spread.
Slow.
Deep.
Unnatural.
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"…Humans," he said, almost amused.
"They build towers of arrogance… and trip over their own shadows."
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The pressure lifted—slightly.
Enough for the messenger to gasp for air.
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From the shadows, figures stepped forward.
One by one.
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Seven presences.
Seven distortions.
Seven beings that felt less like individuals—
And more like disasters given form.
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The Demon Generals.
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One knelt.
Armor dark as a starless void.
Eyes burning like dying suns.
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"My lord," he said, voice steady, "the Empire is fractured. Leaderless. Weak."
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Another stepped forward.
A woman, her horns curling like a crown of thorns, a smile playing on her lips.
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"The Elven Kingdom still stands untouched," she said.
"Hidden behind their ancient forests. Protected by their arrogance."
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Her smile widened.
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"If we strike now… there will be no one left to stop us."
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The others remained silent.
But their presence alone was agreement.
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War.
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The Demon King leaned slightly forward.
The throne creaked beneath him—
Not from weight.
But from something far worse.
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"…Proceed."
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The single word sealed it.
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The ground trembled.
The air screamed.
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"Mobilize the legions," the armored General commanded.
"Burn the forests. Break their defenses. Leave nothing standing."
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A low murmur of dark excitement spread among the seven.
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But then—
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The Demon King spoke again.
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"…Wait."
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Everything stopped.
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Even the air seemed to freeze.
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"…This 'unknown force' that killed the Emperor…"
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Silence deepened.
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"…Find it."
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The horned General tilted her head slightly.
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"…And if it resists?"
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A pause.
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Then—
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"…Erase it."
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No hesitation.
No curiosity.
No fear.
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Just certainty.
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The order of a being who had never been opposed.
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The generals bowed.
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"As you command."
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One by one—
They vanished.
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The war had begun.
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Left alone in the endless red—
The Demon King rested his chin against his hand.
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"…A world that breaks itself…"
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A faint smile touched his lips.
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"…is a world ready to be conquered."
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Far away—
Beyond mountains, forests, and kingdoms—
A girl laughed happily while eating.
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"…More food…"
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And somewhere, deep in the fabric of the world—
Something shifted.
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Because for the first time—
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Two disasters now existed.
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And neither of them knew about the other.
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To Be Continued…