Deep within the malevolent heart of the Sonad Empire's capital, where shadows melded with demonic decadence, Thomas materialized as shadowy phantom. Obsidian towers clawed the perpetual twilight sky, creating a haunting backdrop for a nightmarish ballet of horror.
Demon soldiers patrolled the corridors, haunted by silent whispers and the elusive rustle of unseen movements. Thomas, draped in shadows, moved with ethereal grace, flickering in and out of existence like a phantom born of darkness. Anxiety hung thick in the air, a prelude to the unfolding nightmare.
From the shadows, Thomas manifested, eyes ablaze with white divine flames that pierced the darkness. A soldier, oblivious to his impending doom, became Thomas's chosen prey. With eerie silence, he emerged beside the soldier, his touch as cold as the abyss. A stifled gasp echoed through the corridor as Thomas clamped his hand over the soldier's mouth and dragged him into the inky abyss.
The remaining soldiers, gripped by escalating panic, quickened their pace. Once stalwart defenders found themselves ensnared in an unseen nightmare, their nerves fraying and their bodies drawn into the shadows.
Thomas melted into the shadows again, an indistinct wraith stalking the hapless soldiers. His presence lingered in the corners of their vision, a foreboding specter. Uncertainty tightened its grip as the soldiers exchanged nervous glances.
Abruptly, Thomas manifested anew, standing amidst another group of soldiers. Panic ensued, and the soldiers fumbled to ready themselves, their weapons trembling. Thomas, a phantom with no regard for their futile defiance, plunged into their midst. His movements, a grotesque dance of predation, struck terror into their hearts. Soldiers disappeared into the abyss, their anguished cries swallowed by the enveloping darkness.
As Thomas neared the palace on the horizon, he had become one with the shadows and shadows were one with him. As he disappeared at will, he became a malevolent force preying on the hapless demon soldiers and generals. The corridors, once bathed in darkness, bore witness to a macabre theater of terror as he became a symbol of horror and certain death to all demons living in this city.
At the imperial seat, an assembly of demon emperors convened, two of the emperors gathered there were allies of Sonad. One was an emperor of an Wind Demon Clan not part the ten thousand demon clans and the other was an ancestor of the Shadow Lightning Demon Clan classified as in the top 9956 and he was the oldest among the ones present there.
The eldest, draped in regal garments, questioned the worth of Earth, a query directed at the Emperor Sonad. "Is this Earth truly as precious as you claim?"
Emperor Sonad solemnly affirmed Earth's significance. As he recounted mysterious occurrences on Earth and Mars, a trump card was revealed, the completed Pathfinder, a gift from the sons of Pride. It guaranteed secure travel through dimensional rifts and held coordinates to major worlds, including Earth.
Strategic discussions were abruptly shattered by an intrusion. A demon lord, eyes filled with despair, burst in, exclaiming, "Emperors, the city is under attack!" Chaos erupted as a man descended upon the round table, clad in armor resembling an enigmatic, mirror-like substance. His jet-black spear severed a demon emperor's arm with brutal precision.
A violent clash ensued. The imperial palace trembled as the confrontation expanded beyond the meeting chamber. In the midst of demonic ballet, Thomas emerged wielding the radiant Luminous Ark and the ethereal Necrospear. Divine flames danced around him, unsettling amidst the demonic melee.
One of the demon emperors is taken by his hand, and for a second, Thomas seized the opportunity, devouring some of his memories. In an instant, the whole situation clarified, and he had a better understanding of demon domain and who truly pulled the strings aground here.
The battle raged as Thomas, undeterred by demonic onslaughts, engaged the demon king protecting the Pathfinder device. In a masterful display of supernatural prowess, he severed the demon king's arm, claiming the coveted device.
Ruthlessly precise, Thomas unveiled his true identity beneath a reflective helmet, a sharp-eared young man with striking white pupils. Activating the Pathfinder, he summoned a tear in the fabric of space, a multicolored vortex swirling with eldritch energies. In the blink of an eye, Thomas vanished, leaving the demon capital in disarray.
In the hallowed halls of her moonlit palace, the Moon Empress pored over reports detailing the cataclysmic events unfurling in the distant capital. As the unsettling narrative unfolded before her, a palpable sense of exasperation gripped her celestial demeanor. Facepalming in a rare display of frustration, she berated herself for the misplaced trust she had invested in Thomas's assurance of maintaining a low profile.
"I should have made him swear an oath or something," she muttered with a heavy sigh, the weight of responsibility settling upon her shoulders. Despite the dismay, an acknowledgment lingered in the air. The devastation wrought upon their capital would act as a formidable impediment to the Sonad Family's nefarious plans. At least, for a considerable stretch of time.
This unprecedented spectacle of terror, a phenomenon initiated by Thomas, marked a chilling first for the Moon Empress. The hearts of demons, beings accustomed to the macabre and the monstrous, now quivered with an unfamiliar fear. In this unforeseen turn of events, she found a sliver of solace. Perhaps, this surge of terror would buy her the precious time needed to fortify her defenses and prepare for her true enemy.