The battlefield was drenched in blood. A sea of corpses sprawled across the once-glorious plain, a chilling reminder of the chaos that had gripped the land for over a decade. Bodies of humans and demons alike lay motionless, tangled together in grotesque displays of war. The air smelled of iron, sweat, and death. The sky above Styxus was a burning crimson, mirroring the carnage below.
The demons were grotesque and unnerving in their appearance. Their horns—twisting, jagged, and sometimes elegantly curved—were the only consistent feature among them. Their bodies were varied, some towering like beasts, others thin and lanky, with skin tones ranging from dark obsidian to sickly pale. Some had extra limbs, tails, or wings, marking them as something entirely alien to the human eye.
Among the demons were succubi, higher demons with serpentine grace. They were known not just for their ability to seduce, but for their brutality, striking fear into the hearts of warriors. However, in the chaos of the battlefield, even they were cut down like any other, their once seductive forms reduced to lifeless bodies, the war sparing no one.
The humans fought valiantly. They were ordinary in comparison, but what they lacked in diversity, they made up for with sheer willpower. Men and women, clad in battle-worn armor, swung their swords, summoned their magic, and gave everything to keep the demons at bay. But as valiant as their efforts were, the tide was not in their favor.
This was Styxus, the last pillar of human resistance. Its walls had once been the bastion of hope for humanity, a fortress standing tall against the endless onslaught. For three decades, Styxus had protected what little remained of the human race. But now, it teetered on the edge of collapse.
Thirty years ago, such devastation would have been unthinkable. Humanity had been flourishing, its only threat the mana beasts that roamed the wilds. These creatures, while dangerous, had become familiar foes over the centuries. Humans had adapted, learning to manipulate mana to an extent that rivaled the beasts themselves, creating powerful warriors known as Manakins, who could manipulate their bodies with mana-infused precision.
But nothing had prepared them for the demons.
It all began with the first earthquake. The ground had split open in a violent tremor, leaving behind a gaping crater so deep that even the bravest explorers couldn't see the bottom. Teams were sent down, but none returned. Then, a month later, another earthquake struck, opening a second crater, miles away from the first. This pattern repeated, again and again, until a dozen craters marred the earth, scattered randomly across the human plane.
When the demons finally emerged from these craters, it was as if the stories from ancient myth had come to life. At first, they were few, easily mistaken for some new species of mana beasts. But soon, their numbers grew, and their intent became clear: annihilation. They swarmed from the depths of the earth, launching an all-out attack that nearly shattered humanity's defenses.
Humanity had reacted swiftly. Their mastery of mana had given them a fighting chance, and for a time, they had even pushed the demons back. The greatest of warriors rose to the challenge, leading armies against the demonic hordes.
They'd fought tooth and nail, reclaiming ground and saving what they could. But the demons were relentless. For every demon slain, two more seemed to rise in its place.
And now, on this blood-soaked battlefield, it seemed that the demons were finally going to win.
Noah Argoth, one of the finest warriors humanity had ever seen, stood among the chaos. His blade, imbued with a radiant blue mana, cut through the demonic flesh with lethal precision. He had seen this battle before—countless times. Each time he fought, he wondered if it would be his last. He wondered if this would be the day Styxus fell.
The demons were not letting up. Every second, a dozen humans and demons alike fell to the ground, lifeless. Noah's eyes scanned the battlefield, searching for any sign of hope, any way to turn the tide. But it was hard to focus with the endless cacophony of battle cries, the clashing of steel, and the roar of demonic forces.
And then, without warning, the earth shook beneath him.
Booooom!
A deafening explosion erupted from the center of the battlefield. The shockwave sent soldiers and demons alike crashing to the ground, the force so great it briefly halted the bloodshed. For the first time in hours, the chaos paused as every eye turned toward the source of the blast.
In the distance, a massive column of black smoke billowed into the sky, darkening the already crimson horizon. The ground where the explosion had erupted was scorched, leaving a gaping wound in the earth.
Noah's heart pounded. He had seen many explosions on the battlefield before, but nothing like this. His instincts screamed danger, and his hand tightened around the hilt of his sword. His eyes narrowed, trying to make sense of what had just occurred. But in the distance, amidst the smoke, a silhouette emerged—something enormous.
At first, he thought it was another demonic creature. But as it stepped closer, Noah realized it was far worse. A towering figure stood where the explosion had taken place, its body wrapped in black armor that shimmered with an otherworldly glow. From its head sprouted a pair of twisted horns, much larger and more menacing than any Noah had ever seen on a demon. This was no ordinary enemy.
This was something ancient. Something powerful. A demon far beyond the soldiers that littered the battlefield.
The ground trembled as the figure moved, its steps slow and deliberate, like a predator stalking its prey. Around it, the demons began to rally, their morale boosted by the arrival of this monstrous being. They roared in unison, a sound so deep and guttural it shook Noah to his core.
The battle was about to change.
Noah's breath caught in his throat as the figure raised its massive arm, a weapon materializing in its grip—a greatsword so large it seemed impossible for any being to wield it.
But this demon could.
As the figure prepared to strike, Noah knew in that moment: Styxus would not survive the day.
With a deep breath, he steadied himself. The battle wasn't over yet, and if this was to be the end of humanity's last fortress, then Noah would make sure he went down fighting.
The bloodshed had only just begun.