Hollowvale wasn't much to look at—just another settlement clinging to survival in a world gone to hell. But it was home to more people than most places could manage these days, which made it both a beacon of hope and a massive target painted on the map for every demon looking for an easy meal.
The Protectors had their shit together, at least. Some secret organization nobody talked about had set up rankings for everyone based on what they could do and how well they could do it. Rex knew the system by heart—he'd been part of it, after all.
At the bottom were the Sentinels—three hundred regular folks who'd learned to fight but weren't born with anything special. Rex used to be one of them, back when people still thought he was worth something. Above them came the Guardians with their eagle eyes that could spot trouble five kilometers out, then the Vanguards with their giant-ass bodies perfect for crowd control.
The Defenders were the meat shields—two hundred fifty brave bastards who stood between civilians and whatever wanted to eat them. Wardens were the smart ones, only sixty of them because apparently brains and combat skills didn't come together very often. Champions were the freaks of nature—twenty people who could punch through walls despite looking like regular humans.
Then it got weird. Paladins were these thirty religious nuts from the settlement's corrupted church who fought while praying to their "supreme one." Nobody knew what the hell that was about. Crusaders were even stranger—twenty-eight genetically modified warriors who kept their secrets locked up tight. Could've been science, could've been magic, could've been both. Nobody was telling.
Near the top were the Bastions—twenty-two tank warriors who could throw up magical shields strong enough to stop an Archdemon's attack. Or at least they claimed they could. And at the very top sat the Ethereal Knights. Seven of them. The absolute best humanity had to offer, masters of every martial art and magic users to boot.
You couldn't just decide to be any of these things. The abilities were supposedly God-given, determined at birth. Which explained why Rex, with his fucked-up arm, had never made it past Sentinel.
But Rex had tried. He'd escorted civilians through demon-infested territory, using his knowledge of the land to find safe routes. He'd stood between a sobbing kid and a Reaper—one of those soul-stealing nightmares—ready to die if it meant buying the kid a few more seconds. An Ethereal Knight had saved them both, but most people only remembered Rex's disability, not his courage.
So they'd kicked him out. Banished him to the wilderness where demons prowled. Some decent folks had helped him find that spot by the river, but the message was clear: Hollowvale didn't want damaged goods.
Now, watching the Archdemon's approach through his newly discovered Divine Vision, Rex could see those same people preparing to die.
Even the Ethereal Knights looked rattled. These were warriors who'd faced down armies of Wraiths and Reapers without breaking a sweat, but an Archdemon was something else entirely. The settlement had walls, watchtowers, and Guardians keeping watch, but Rex could see the fear in their movements.
The civilians wore these masks called corruption guards—made from Wraith organs and skin, which was as disgusting as it sounded but kept the poisoned air from killing them slowly. They'd learned to grow tainted crops and purify contaminated water with basic magic, scraping together whatever life they could manage.
But none of that mattered when the Archdemon reached Hollowvale's walls.
The battle started with a sound like the world tearing apart. The Archdemon unleashed a wave of dark energy that made the air itself scream. The Protectors responded with everything they had—enchanted weapons blazing with light, the Ethereal Knights leading the charge, Champions roaring battle cries that could be heard over the chaos.
Wraiths and Reapers swarmed the walls like a tide of nightmares. Rex watched through his Divine Vision as Protectors fought with desperate courage, their formations holding despite the overwhelming numbers. Ethereal Knights cut through lesser demons like wheat, but there were just too many of them.
Then the Archdemon himself joined the fight.
His first attack sent shockwaves through the battlefield that Rex could feel miles away. Defenders and Bastions—over a hundred of them—died in seconds, their bodies torn apart by forces beyond mortal comprehension. These were people Rex had trained with, fought beside, shared meals with when times were better.
The Ethereal Knights fought like legends come to life, but even they were struggling. Rex could see the desperation in their movements, the way they kept glancing toward the civilians huddled behind rapidly failing defenses.
That's when something clicked inside Rex's chest.
Two new powers unfurled in his mind like flowers made of light. Divine Vision, which let him see the battle with perfect clarity across impossible distances. And Ethereal State, which let him merge with shadows and become incorporeal—essentially turning into a ghost that could move unseen.
But it was his third power that really mattered. Light speed travel. Rex had discovered it during training but never used it for anything serious. He could transform his entire body into divine light—brilliant, searing energy that incinerated demons on contact and melted through solid matter like it was made of butter.
"Fuck this," Rex muttered, and let the transformation take him.
The change was always intense. One moment he was flesh and blood, the next he was pure divine energy racing across the landscape at the speed of light itself. The ground beneath him scorched and cracked from the heat. Wraiths caught in his path simply ceased to exist, burned away so completely they didn't even leave ash.
He reached Hollowvale in seconds, shifting into his Ethereal State to scout the battlefield without being seen. The situation was worse up close. Blood soaked the ground, body parts were scattered everywhere, and the stench of death and sulfur was thick enough to choke on.
The Protectors were breaking. Rex could see it in their faces—the moment when courage gives way to terror, when training becomes meaningless against overwhelming power. A few more minutes and the massacre would be complete.
Then Rex dropped his Ethereal State and stepped onto the battlefield.
The light that blazed from his body cut through the demonic darkness like a sword through silk. Every Protector still breathing turned to stare, and Rex could see something he hadn't expected in their eyes: hope.
"Well, well," Rex called out, his voice carrying across the battlefield with divine authority. "Looks like you assholes started the party without me."
The Archdemon's army wheeled toward this new threat, sensing power that made their primitive brains scream warnings. But it was the Archdemon himself who really got Rex's attention.
The massive demon locked eyes with him across the battlefield, and that cruel smile spread across his bone-armored face. The expression said everything: Another lamb for slaughter. This should be fun.
The Protectors rallied around Rex, drawing strength from his presence. Exhausted Defenders found their second wind. Wounded Bastions raised their shields with renewed determination. Even the Ethereal Knights straightened their shoulders, hope flickering in eyes that had been preparing for death.
Rex felt the weight of their expectations, the desperate faith they were placing in him. These were the same people who'd cast him out, called him useless, treated him like damaged goods.
He grinned, divine light crackling around his fists.
"Time to show you what damaged goods can really do," he whispered, and stepped forward to meet the Archdemon's charge.
The real battle was about to begin.