The massive, headless corpse of Dyrroth lay still in the gray ash, oozing out thick black blood into the volcanic dirt. Kairos Vedaryan stood over the fallen general, leaning heavily on the blackened hilt of Asteria. He had done the impossible. He had executed an equal to the Demon King in single combat. But the physical toll of holding the Primordial Law inside his mortal veins was vehemently catching up to him. His vision blurred. The adrenaline crashed, and the agonizing, sharp pain of his cracked rib flared back to life.

His legs gave out, but he didn’t hit the ground.

Seyana caught him. The Crown Princess of Solaris slid her arm firmly around his waist, taking his weight. The brilliant, warm golden light radiating from her armor immediately washed over his chest. It sank into his skin, soothing the burning pain in his cracked bones and stabilizing his erratic heartbeat.

"I have you," Seyana whispered fiercely, her amber eyes filled with pride and concern. "You did enough, Kairos. Let me heal you."

Karl Wade walked up, resting his massive, heavy iron broadsword on his shoulder. The old Zephyros General looked down at his son.

"You burned too much of your stamina holding that lock, boy," Karl grunted, though his single dark eye was shining with respect. "You cannot fight the rest of them right now. You need to sit down and let your blood settle, or your own magic is going to tear your heart in half."

"I can still swing," Kairos argued weakly, his silver eyes flickering as he tried to stand up straight, leaning on his sword.

"No, you can’t," a new, cold voice interrupted.

Veldra Dracortis stepped in front of Kairos. The oldest of the legendary dragon-scale siblings held his massive halberd tightly in both hands. He was staring past Kairos, looking up at the distant, dark volcanic ridge.

"Lord Karl is right, General Kairos," Veldra stated, his voice dead serious. "You broke their vanguard. You killed their physical anchor, but the rest of them are done playing."

Kairos forced his heavy head up. He looked past Veldra’s shoulder. Up on the distant, burning red ridge, the remaining seven massive silhouettes had not retreated. They had simply stepped out of the thick, dark smoke to reveal their true forms. They were the remaining Seven Nightmares. The apex predators of the demon realm, and they were stepping down into the valley at the same time.

The sheer, oppressive weight of their combined dark magic physically pushed the red clouds out of the sky. The air in the valley grew heavy, tasting of copper, sulfur, and death.

"They are not a mindless horde," Terravarous rumbled, stepping up beside Veldra. His massive fists began to coat themselves in thick, unbreakable diamond. "They are Warlords. We cannot fight them as a single group. If they combine their curses, we will die in seconds."

"Then we split them up," Ignis declared loudly.

The fiery royal stepped to the front of the human line. He dropped his plain iron broadsword into the dirt. He raised his bare hands, compressing his internal core until brilliant sparks of blue fire jumped across his knuckles.

Daemon Sylphyros stepped to Ignis’ right, his two curved scimitars roaring with wild, destructive orange fire. Karl Wade stepped to his left, his heavy broadsword dripping with thick, dark red veteran flames.

The champions moved as one. They didn’t need orders. They were the elites of the continent. They instinctively knew how to break down a massive battlefield.

"Identify your targets!" Veldra commanded, his water magic swirling rapidly around his halberd.

****

Down the jagged volcanic slope, the Seven Nightmares approached. One of them was a massive, bloated abomination. Gourmandise, The Hunger. Its stomach dragged rigidly on the dirt. Its skin was covered in a thousand gnashing, screeching mouths. It oozed a disgusting, parasitic slime that actively ate the rock beneath it.

"I’ll take the fat one!" Stark Dracortis yelled. He slammed his heavy boots into the ground to draw deep earth magic. "Veldra, with me! We crush it before it eats the battlefield!"

"Done!" Veldra agreed.

The two brothers broke off from the main group and sprinted toward Gourmandise. As they closed the distance, Stark threw both hands up. A massive wall of solid bedrock erupted from the ground to smash the demon. But Gourmandise didn’t stop. The thousands of mouths on its stomach opened wide and chewed through the solid stone in seconds, swallowing the rocks whole.

Veldra didn’t panic. He thrust his halberd forward, firing a jet of water that acted like a water-jet cutter. The water blade sliced through one of the demon’s screaming mouths. But instead of bleeding, the wound bubbled. A smaller, vicious parasite demon ripped its way out of the cut and lunged at Veldra.

"Don’t let it feed on your magic!" Stark warned, raising a stone gauntlet to punch the parasite out of the air.

On the other side of the valley, slithering down the left flank of the ridge, was Surnavax, The Giant Serpent. It was a massive, hundred-foot-long snake with dark iron scales. Thick, boiling green acid dripped constantly from its massive fangs, melting the volcanic boulders into hissing sludge.

"That venom will melt our armor," Marin Valcoran noted, spinning her water trident.

"Then we drown it before it spits," Lucy Smith said quietly, stepping up beside the scarred woman.

The two strongest water mages on the continent locked eyes, nodding silently. They sprinted toward the left flank to intercept the massive serpent. Surnavax hissed loudly and opened its massive jaws, spitting a literal lake of green acid toward them.

Marin slammed her trident into the ground. She summoned a massive whirlpool of pure water right in front of them to catch the acid. The green poison hit the water, boiling it into highly toxic steam. Lucy reacted instantly, pulling underground water from beneath the ash, creating a massive geyser that shot upward, catching the toxic steam and washing it harmlessly away before it could burn their lungs.

Lingering gracefully down the center of the slope was a tall, slender demon with six arms. Vaelistra, The Widow of Strings. Invisible, razor-sharp strings of pure dark magic extended from her long fingers, seeking to latch onto anything living to possess it.

"She’s a puppeteer," Aeryth Dracortis warned, the wind vehemently swirling around his armor. "Do not let her strings touch your skin!"

"I can burn the strings with light," Luxara Dracortis stated, raising her glowing staff. "Aeryth, Darth, keep me covered. We cut her into pieces!"

The three champions launched themselves into the air, flying toward the Widow. Vaelistra flicked her six wrists. The invisible strings sliced through the falling ash. Darth Clover couldn’t see them, but Aeryth used his wind magic to feel the empty spaces in the air where the strings cut through.

"Left!" Aeryth shouted. Luxara pointed her staff left and fired a beam of light. The light hit the invisible string, setting the dark magic on fire just inches before it wrapped around Darth’s neck.

Walking slowly through the falling ash was a demon shrouded in a thick, shifting dark mist. Yumekoro, The Dream Tyrant. Wherever he stepped, the physical world warped into nightmarish illusions. The dead demon corpses on the ground seemed to stand back up, crying out in human voices.

"Don’t look at the mist!" Idris Avelar yelled. He used his wind magic to blow the ash and smoke away from his eyes. "It’s an illusion, Warlord!"

"Illusions burn just like everything else," Pyrix Dracortis grinned fiercely, popping his fiery knuckles.

Idris and Pyrix lunged toward the Dream Tyrant. Suddenly, the thick mist rolled over them. Pyrix stopped. Standing right in front of him was his brother, Veldra, covered in blood and screaming for help. Pyrix’s heart skipped a beat, but then he noticed the armor. The illusion’s armor was blue, but Veldra always wore crimson dragon scales.

"Nice try, ugly," Pyrix laughed. He slammed both of his burning fists into the ground. A massive, circular shockwave of fire erupted outward, burning the illusion away and revealing the Dream Tyrant hiding in the smoke.

That left the heaviest hitters for last. Walking down the right flank was a demon that was literally made of walking, changing catastrophe. Ignar, The Raging Fire. His entire body was a container of nuclear explosion. The dark red flames rolling off his skin burned so hot that the volcanic rock vaporized into gas beneath his feet.

Ignis, Daemon, and Karl Wade didn’t say a single word. The three strongest fire mages darted their eyes onto the Cataclysm. They marched forward to meet Ignar, ready to prove whose fire burned the hottest. Ignis moved first. He shot a highly compressed, solid bolt of blue fire at Ignar’s chest. The blue flame hit the demon, but Ignar didn’t even flinch. The Warlord simply absorbed the heat, his own red flames growing larger. Daemon followed up, throwing two massive tornadoes of orange fire from his scimitars. Ignar opened his arms and embraced the tornadoes, feeding on the magic.

"You don’t fight fire with fire, boys," Karl Wade grunted, stepping past them. "You fight it with weight. Cut his oxygen off."

Walking down the center of the valley was Kaelmorath, The Blood Crescent. He was a tall, elegant demon wearing sleek, blood-red armor. He held a curved, wicked scimitar forged from hardened dark blood, named Sythrael. With a single flick of his wrist, the warlord commanded the massive pools of dead demon blood in the valley to vehemently rise into the air like thousands of hovering, sharp red spears.

Terravarous coated his massive body in thick, unbreakable diamond. "I have the blood mage," the giant rumbled, lunging forward like a massive siege engine to intercept Kaelmorath.

Kaelmorath smiled a cruel, cold smile. He swung his scimitar downward. Thousands of hardened blood spears rained down on Terravarous. The giant didn’t slow down. He crossed his arms over his face and charged right through the storm. The blood spears shattered against his diamond skin.

Kaelmorath frowned. He tried to use his magic to control the blood flowing inside Terravarous’s own veins, to make his heart stop. But the thick diamond skin acted as a barrier, blocking the magical connection. Terravarous closed the distance, raising a massive diamond fist to crush the elegant demon into the ground.

****

Kairos watched his friends sprint into the jaws of death.

"They are splitting up," Kairos breathed profusely, his chest heaving as Seyana held him upright.

"They have to," Seyana said firmly. Her golden light pushed back the dark aura of the remaining demons, keeping the air around them clean. "They are champions, Kairos. They have fought in the colosseum for years. Trust them to hold their lines."

Kairos nodded slowly. But as he looked past the chaotic, massive clashes erupting across the massive valley, his silver eyes narrowed. The champions had intercepted six of the nightmares. They were holding their own, pushing their mortal limits against the ancient monsters, but there was one left.

Standing alone at the bottom of the volcanic ridge, ignoring the massive battles erupting around him, was the seventh warlord. He didn’t look like a hulking beast. He wore simple, ancient gray robes. His face was hidden beneath a deep hood. He carried no weapons. He didn’t even leave footprints in the ash.

Azravel, The Howling Silence.

He was the undisputed equal to the Demon King, and he was looking directly at Kairos. As Azravel took a single step forward, something terrifying happened. The deafening noise of the massive battlefield, the roaring fires, the shattering stone, the screeching demons began to vanish. It wasn’t fading away. It was being erased. Wherever Azravel walked, the air went unnaturally dead.

Kairos felt a cold shiver run down his spine. The Warlord was erasing existence.

"Seyana," Kairos whispered softly, his grip tightening heavily on Asteria’s leather hilt. "Keep your light shining. Do not let it go out."

Seyana looked at the approaching figure in gray robes. She stepped slightly in front of Kairos, raising her silver rapier. The golden light radiating from her skin flared brighter, acting as a warm shield against the creeping silence.

"I won’t," she promised.

Kairos took a deep breath. He forced his battered legs to straighten. He ignored the burning pain in his ribs. He had broken the blue screen. He had become the law. Now, he had to prove that the law could survive the silence of the void. The warlords had descended. The true nightmare of the southern war was unleashed, and the final battle for the mortal world was just beginning.