The atmosphere was tense. An assembly of Demon Kings had gathered in an uncharted territory—a place shrouded in mystery, where formalities were cast aside for candid discussions and negotiations among the rulers of demonic realms. Each king arrived with their own retinues, yet none made a sound as they waited for the proceedings to begin.
The Demon King of Tyranny, sitting on a jagged obsidian throne, broke the silence.
"So," he rumbled, his crimson eyes gleaming, "how do we deal with the resurrection of the Heavenly Demon Emperor?"
The Demon King of Destruction cracked his knuckles, the sound echoing ominously. "We either force him to surrender the sword so we can destroy it, or we invade his territory."
The Demon King of Sloth yawned, reclining lazily. "Why not test him? Send a few of us to his castle in a few months and see if he's even worthy of being called the new Demon Emperor." He spoke with disinterest but enough gravity to carry weight.
The Demon King of Pride smirked, adjusting his immaculate robes. "Of course, a test of worthiness. We'll judge him, and if he's not fit, he will fall. But should we bring our armies in case he tries to resist?"
The Demon King of the Blue Inferno unsheathed his katana-like blade, its edges glowing with sapphire flames. "Armies are unnecessary," he said in a calm yet fiery tone. "A small delegation of kings and generals is sufficient. Besides, no force we have can stand against the 1st Legion stationed near the sword. They're the elite of the Demon Emperor's forces."
The Demon King of Tyranny nodded in agreement. "I've trained with them for decades before ascending my throne. Their skill is unmatched. A full-scale invasion would be suicide."
The kings exchanged glances, each silently acknowledging the wisdom of caution.
"For those near the Storm's Eye, prepare your militaries in case of unforeseen events," the Demon King of Tyranny continued. "Some of the Legion's members roam freely. Keep them contained if possible, but do not engage. This concludes this agenda. Let's move on to other matters."
Demon Emperor's Palace
Alex returned to his dimension, seated in the captain's chair aboard a sleek destroyer as it approached a walled city on a distant island. The dark sea stretched endlessly before him, a stark reflection of his brooding thoughts.
Reports from his spies painted a grim picture: Alvos, the former ruler, had only weeks left to live. This knowledge spurred Alex to accelerate his plans.
"My lord, we are in position," the captain announced, breaking Alex's reverie.
Alex stood, his gaze sharp as he stepped onto the bridge and surveyed the distant city through binoculars. The walled stronghold bustled with life—pirates brawling, merchants trading, and a false sense of security shrouding the doomed populace.
"The shells are loaded," the captain reported.
"Fire."
With that single word, the destroyers roared to life. Their first volley cut through the silence, shattering the night with small explosions. In the city, the festive chaos turned to panic as green smoke crept through the alleys. Guards scrambled to locate the source, but their efforts were futile.
People gasped for air, clawing at their throats as the poisonous fog consumed them. Some tried fleeing through the gates or harbor, but the red smoke claimed them before they could escape.
Through his binoculars, Alex observed the carnage with a cold detachment. "Send in the marines and researchers," he ordered. "After an hour of testing, burn the bodies outside the city. Remove all evidence of our shells. Leave nothing behind."
The marines, clad in gas masks, stormed the city. They meticulously examined the bodies and documented the range and lethality of the gas. After gathering their data, they burned the corpses and left the city a desolate, uninhabitable husk.
Duke Dimitri's Mission
Duke Dimitri sat in his tent, his brow furrowed as he reviewed the details of his mission. Capturing ten titans alive without killing them was a monumental task. His brigade of 25,000 Northern Army soldiers awaited his command, but he knew precision was key.
"General, scouts report two dozen titans camped with ten thousand armed villagers nearby," a soldier informed him.
Dimitri nodded, formulating his plan. "Assemble 500 cavalrymen and officers from the Draconian detachment. We'll inspect the site first."
An hour later, Dimitri's group galloped through the hills. Smoke rose in the distance—a telltale sign of the titans' camp. Scouts confirmed the numbers, and Dimitri's mind raced.
He addressed his officers. "The cavalry will distract the titans, driving them away from the villagers. The infantry will encircle and force their surrender. The Draconian detachment will use chemical agents to subdue them."
The operation commenced with precision. The cavalry charged, drawing the titans away, while infantry flanked and encircled the remaining forces. Draconian soldiers unleashed chemical agents, disorienting the titans and rendering them unconscious.
Draconia: Weapons Factory
Alex inspected the bustling factories of Draconia. Weapons, armor, and ammunition were produced with relentless efficiency.
"How many rifles are produced per month during peacetime?" Alex asked the factory overseer.
"300,000, my lord. During wartime, we can double that number. Ammunition production scales similarly—10 million rounds per month in peace, 200 million during war."
Alex nodded in approval, satisfied with the preparations.
Olympus Training Grounds
The clanging of steel filled the air as Alex clashed with Alvos in the training arena. The Demon Sword glowed ominously in Alex's hands, nearly cleaving Alvos's head before it was blocked by a gauntleted arm. Alvos countered with a swing of his Warhammer, aiming for Alex's leg.
The battle raged on, each strike resonating with the weight of their shared history.
To be continued...