The Valley of Warriors lay silent beneath me. I floated high above it, hidden in a fold of space, my presence erased. My eyes remained closed as I waited, listening to the empty air, to the tremble of the cracked earth, to the faint hum of Essence that had not yet been disturbed.
Then... the first ripple appeared.
A fluctuation ran through space. I opened my eyes.
On the eastern edge of the battlefield, a scar-like tear appeared in midair. Space twisted, runes flared, and a massive portal expanded outward. The ground shook under its force.
The Bloodreavers had arrived.
One by one, armored demons marched through the gate, line after line, rank after rank. Their armor gleamed dark red under the faint pre-dawn sky. Their weapons already summoned and ready in their hands.
In front, two towering figures stepped out first.
Orobas.
Dorian.
Both wore their war armor for the first time since I had met them. Their auras rolled outward like pressure waves, instantly dwarfing the presence of everyone behind them.
But Primus wasn’t there. I could tell immediately.
That meant he was entering on cue.
As more Bloodreavers poured in, they began assembling a giant runic structure on the ground, another teleportation gate. Teams of grandmasters moved with precision. Moments later, a second crimson gate flared to life, and even more warriors stepped through.
The east slowly transformed into a sea of red metal and disciplined strength.
I waited silently as time passed.
Soon, another spatial fluctuation trembled at the opposite end of the valley.
The Ronics.
A violet portal bloomed open on the western side. Their army emerged fully armored, segmented plates tinted purple with sharp silver lines cutting across them. Ronic soldiers were known for their clean, precise combat style. Even their armor reflected that: smooth surfaces, narrow visors, blades strapped neatly to their backs.
At their head floated Platius.
His armor was brighter than the others. He raised a hand, and the Ronics behind him spread out swiftly, assembling their own portal gate, smaller but efficient. Within minutes, more violet-clad warriors streamed through, forming disciplined rows.
With both armies present, the valley’s atmosphere thickened.
Then, the third ripple came.
The Del Reys.
On the northern edge of the valley, space cracked open with a violent rumble. A massive blue portal expanded, lightning crackling across its edges. Their army stepped out, armor painted deep blue, polished to a shine.
In front of them stood Herald.
Lana’s father. Current family head.
He wore ornate blue armor decorated with overlapping plates shaped like dragon scales. He stood with the posture of someone who believed the world bent around him, someone who believed reinforcement from Dragos was already on its way.
His soldiers spread out and began constructing their base with practiced efficiency. They moved with urgency. Not the way I saw last night. Today, there was purpose in their steps, uncertainty, yes, but also trust in the envoy and in the reinforcements Lana had promised to send.
The moment Herald’s presence stabilized, two streaks shot into the sky.
Orobas and Platius.
They flew out from the east and west, meeting Herald in the center of the valley. A tension-filled silence followed before Orobas’ deep, furious voice boomed across the battlefield.
"Where is Romothese, Herald? The coward ran away when his schemes were uncovered."
Herald didn’t flinch.
"He will come when he is needed," he replied coolly. "This ’accusation’ you’re trying to use as justification for war is baseless. The envoy already confirmed the soul flame incident was not connected to him."
Platius’ voice joined the argument, much colder.
"Your ancestor is gone. Your envoy claims ignorance. You stand here calmly while our people are being killed in our own lands. And you still call this baseless?"
Herald’s jaw tightened, but his face remained composed.
"Play whatever game you want. But we both know this war is only happening because you want an excuse."
Orobas scoffed loudly.
"Enough. Words won’t change what must happen. Bloodreavers and Ronics stand united. If Del Reys want to hide behind excuses, so be it."
The three floated in silence. The wind even seemed to halt.
Herald finally exhaled.
"Very well. If war is what you want... then war is what you’ll get."
They returned to their camps, one filled with simmering rage, the other with cold calculation, and the last with a calm arrogance that would crumble soon enough.
I let my gaze sweep across the valley.
Two armies on one side... One army on the other.
Almost a million demons in total on each side.
This was the largest gathering of warriors I had seen. Red and violet armies stretched endlessly across the east and west. Their formations were tight, disciplined, their auras pulsing through the ground.
The Del Reys were visibly outmatched. Their formations were smaller, thinner, their grandmasters fewer in number.
Fear wasn’t openly shown but unease ran through them like a hidden undertone. I hovered silently, waiting for the next moment.
It came abruptly.
A massive spatial detonation ripped through the air right in front of the Bloodreaver army.
BOOOOOOM!
Dust erupted upward. Shockwaves rattled the earth. Demons across all three armies flinched or raised defensive barriers. Thousands of eyes snapped toward the explosion site.
When the dust settled...
A single armored figure stood in front of the Bloodreaver army.
Primus.
Fully clad in dark crimson armor, similar to his clan but far more refined. The Bloodreaver army erupted in cheers and roars, their morale skyrocketing. But that wasn’t what drew the tension. Behind Primus stood six cloaked figures.
Tall. Silent. Faces covered behind black masks. Their cloaks were deep black, and on the back of each one was a single symbol: Two interlocking gears.
Steve, North, Aurora, Ragnar, Lyrate, Silver. All disguised. All radiating quiet, lethal power.
Only Knight remained elsewhere, sabotaging the reinforcements.
The valley changed instantly. The Bloodreaver side roared in excitement. The Ronic army straightened, eyes narrowed in focus.
The Del Reys grew tense, very tense. And I smiled from my place in hidden space. The war had gathered its players.