Volume 2 chapter 1

"Caw... Caw... Caw!"

Black carrion birds circled in the sky, their jarring cries echoing off the canyon walls. They gathered in a tightening spiral, shrieking with excitement as they gazed downward at the feast awaiting them.

On the face of a sheer, vertical cliff, a tenacious pine tree had forced its way out of a crack in the stone, stretching its gnarled limbs over the void.

And there, impaled upon a protruding branch, hung a body.

It was a young man clad in light leather armor, a single-handed sword hanging uselessly at his waist.

He lay supine, facing the sky. A branch as thick as a forearm had pierced through his chest, skewering him. It was a cruel mercy; the wood anchored him in place, preventing him from slipping into the abyss.

Below him lay a drop of a thousand meters. The valley floor was a forest of jagged, razor-sharp boulders. To fall was certain death—ten deaths out of ten.

The man’s long black hair hung down, whipped and tangled by the high-altitude gale. His eyes were open. The irises were a deep crimson, but they were tranquil, devoid of light—like a pool of stagnant, dead water. Only a slow, heavy blink every few minutes betrayed the fact that he was still alive.

"Kraa! Kraa!"

One of the strange birds dove down. It landed on the man’s chest, its talons gripping the leather armor. Its massive, inky-black eye stared directly into the man's face, checking for a pulse, waiting for the end.

And then...

In the reflection of that pitch-black bird's eye, the crimson pupils began to glow.

Like a match struck in the deepest dark, the stagnation broke. A violent, terrifying fire erupted within those red eyes. It was not the spark of life; it was the spark of an inferno. It burned with a rage that threatened to consume the world and reduce it to ash.

"Gah!!"

Clyris jolted awake, sitting up with a gasp. Cold sweat clung to her skin.

As her breathing slowed, she looked around the dimly lit, cavernous hall. Reality settled back in. She was no longer in the sky or the nightmare; she was in the Temple of the Demon God.

"Why... why did I dream of that?"

She pressed a hand to her forehead, nursing a splitting headache. The image of the man hanging from the cliff lingered like a ghost.

Currently, she was resting in the center of the temple, submerged in the Pool of the Demon God. The liquid within was crystal clear, but it was not water. It was liquefied, concentrated mana.

It hummed with power. An ordinary Knight wouldn't dare dip a toe in here; the sheer density of the raw energy would tear their body apart and annihilate their soul. Only a Demon Lord could withstand it.

This pool was the lifeblood of her race. It could facilitate ascension to higher ranks, and a single draft could heal even the most grievous mortal wounds.

But as she looked down, her heart sank. The liquid barely covered her abdomen.

This was the Last Pool.

Five thousand years ago, the Demon Lord Samuel had drained nearly every pool in the realm to fuel a suicide attack that wiped out the previous Alliance's leadership. It bought them survival, but the cost was their future. Trapped in the barren northwest, the pools dried up one by one.

Now, only this remains. And it is failing.

"I really am the last one..."

"Luna, come in."

The heavy stone doors creaked open. A purple figure walked in softly—Luna, the Succubus Priestess.

"You are finally awake, Your Majesty. How are your injuries?"

"Healed. In fact, better than before."

Clyris stood up, the magical liquid cascading off her skin. She clenched her fist, and the air around her fingers warped visibly.

"My control is fluid. I am not far from manifesting a Domain. Luna, assemble the council."

The Great Council Hall was packed. Demons of every tribe were crammed inside, a chaotic sea of horns and wings. But the moment Clyris stepped through the archway, silence fell.

She walked to the podium and looked down. They were all Mid-Rank demons. Not a single High-Rank aura could be felt. The Nine Grand Dukes were dead. The generals were dead.

I mocked Charlo for being weak, she thought bitterly, but look at us. We are ghosts.

"My subjects," Clyris began, her voice cutting through the silence. "As you can see, the Demon Race faces an unprecedented crisis. The assault on the Wall failed. The Grand Dukes have perished. And now... the Rodinia Grand Alliance has reformed."

A gasp rippled through the hall.

"Humans, Elves, Dwarves. The entire power of the continent is coming," she stated, her voice iron-hard. "Their goal is not conquest. It is extermination."

The hall fell into a deathly silence. Hope evaporated.

"Even if there is no chance of victory, I will fight beside you until the last drop of my blood is spilled, Your Majesty!"

Luna knelt, bowing her head to the floor.

Her action was the spark.

"Fight! Death is just death!"

"The Demon Race will never kneel!"

"Your Majesty, give the order! We are ready to die!"

Clyris looked at them, their fear turning into a frenzy of desperate courage.

"Correct! We will never surrender!" Clyris slammed her hand onto the podium. "Since they want to exterminate us, we will drag them down to hell with us! We will show them that even an aging lion still has fangs!"

She made her decision.

"I will use the last of the Demon God Pool to forcibly evolve all peak Sixth-Rank demons into the Seventh Rank! This is our final gamble! Let them witness our courage!"

"ROAAAAAR!!!"

Ironwood Territory.

While the demons roared in desperation, Ironwood hummed with the rhythmic sound of industry.

Charlo stood in the proving grounds, looking at the "Big Iron Lump" in front of him. It was a beast of steel, over two meters high and five meters long.

Clank. Clank. Clank.

Two heavy steel tracks, driven by five pairs of road wheels, churned the earth, crushing rocks into dust as the machine moved forward. Atop the chassis sat a rotating turret, its long muzzle pointing menacingly ahead.

"Status report on Prototype Tank No. 1," Charlo ordered.

Minister Speer stepped forward, reading from a clipboard.

"Combat weight verified at 40 tons. The engine is performing within expected parameters, delivering a top speed of 60 km/h on roads and 25 km/h across rough terrain."

Speer patted the thick steel hull.

"Protection is substantial. We have 120mm of frontal armor and 100mm on the sides, further reinforced by a 4th-Rank Defensive Array. Small arms and light magic are useless against it."

"And the bite?"

"Ammo capacity is 60 rounds for the main cannon," Speer replied. "It is fully operational."

"Excellent."

Charlo looked at the machine. The Demons were gambling their souls on ancient magic. The Alliance relied on numbers. But Ironwood? Ironwood relied on steel.

"Begin mass production."