On the morning when the vanguard was set to depart for the Demon Realm, the skies over the North Sea were heavy with the usual brooding clouds, and in the distance, an ominous roar echoed like a warning.
Halo Leston, the Commander of the expedition, ascended the podium at the naval base, his presence stark against the foreboding backdrop. This harbor, perched on the Desertus forward base, had only recently been completed—built at great cost in manpower and effort.
"There is only one thing I wish to say to you," Halo began. His voice carried the weight of command, though his words were spare. "Come back alive."
That single phrase, short and sharp, rolled across the entire island like a thunderclap, bolstered by the immense mana of a 9-Star knight.
The soldiers of the vanguard stood with resolute expressions, their eyes fixed on him.
"Survive, and plant our banner on that cursed land," Halo continued. "That is the only mission entrusted to you."
There was no need for elaborate rhetoric. Halo knew well that he wasn't the hero of this moment—the soldiers before him were. So he simply met their gazes with eyes like tempered steel, unwavering and firm.
They were the ones who would mark the beginning of this campaign. Warriors had gathered from every nation and race, fierce and unyielding. They only had one objective: To land in the Demon Realm first and secure the beachhead.
Halo had no doubt that these blades—honed to a razor's edge through relentless training—would carve their way through the infernal lands.
"I believe in you," Halo declared with a sincerity that resonated from the man seated at the pinnacle of the continent's might. "Set sail."
It wasn't a long speech.
In response, the soldiers didn't cheer—they saluted, silently pledging their loyalty. Halo returned their salute by placing his right fist over his chest and tapping it firmly.
Moments later, the command rang out.
"Begin boarding!"
Under the direction of their officers, the soldiers filed aboard the warships in perfect order.
Whoosh.
A deep, resonant hum filled the air as two great airships from the Magic Tower—tasked with providing fire support—rose from the ground, engines thrumming with raw arcane power.
Among those watching the spectacle was Caron Leston, grandson of Halo Leston. As the war machines climbed toward the clouds, he whispered his grandfather's name softly.
"I'll be back," he said under his breath.
Halo would move with the main force. The moment they landed in the Demon Realm, the real war would begin. This, however, was only the prelude—a mission to seize the initiative and pave the way for the main army.
Failure was not an option. That was why only the finest had been chosen for the vanguard.
"Go on ahead and wait for me," Halo said as he slowly reached out, resting a weathered hand on Caron's head. "This time, it seems you'll be the one waiting for me, not the other way around. Isn't that so?"
Caron smirked and replied, "I'm young, so I don't have the patience for a long wait."
"Haha! That temper of yours... No matter how the years pass, you never change, do you?" Halo chuckled, his voice carrying a hint of fond exasperation.
"They say if a person changes too suddenly, they die. And I'd rather live a long life," Caron replied lightly.
At that, Halo smiled faintly—an inscrutable curve of the lips—and nodded.
"Yes. Live long. That is my wish for you," he said quietly. "I want to see you live truly free, with my own eyes."
Hands clasped behind his back, Halo turned his gaze toward the ships moored in the harbor.
"Sabina and the other elders of the family are gathering here as we speak," he added. "There are many among them you've never met."
"Ah... The ones who've been hiding across the continent..." Caron murmured.
"The conquest of the Demon Realm has been our family's long-cherished dream. Naturally, everyone is lending a hand. The elders will join the main force," Halo explained.
The elders were the hidden strength of the Ducal Family of Leston, a force that appeared only when the duchy was in dire peril. Even so, it seemed they too had chosen to involve themselves in this grand campaign.
Perhaps some of them intended to make the Demon Realm their grave. After all, many of the elders were said to be nearing the end of their lifespans.
Caron slowly nodded in response. Then, with a faint smile, he said, "I do feel a little bad that the elders have to go through all this trouble."
"You? The same brat who normally doesn't show a shred of respect for his elders is suddenly spouting polite nonsense?" Halo shot back.
"I'm just saying it, that's all," Caron replied lightly.
The two exchanged casual remarks and then burst into laughter, looking at each other warmly.
Caron bowed his head politely to Halo and spoke in a cheerful tone, "Then, I'll be off, Grandfather!"
Halo simply nodded without a word.
After bidding farewell to Halo, Caron walked toward Gratia, who was waiting behind in her true form. On the dragon's broad back were some familiar faces—starting with Leo, then Seria. And then...
"Oh, great one! Thank you so much for lending us your back! May I dare to leave your story for future generations?" someone asked.
"Why does this oafish giant keep repeating the same line? Oath-bearer, are you sure about bringing this guy along?" Gratia asked.
"Utula, stop being so dramatic. You're making Lady Gratia uncomfortable," Caron voice interjected.
It was Utula, the Grand Chief of the Giants.
And then...
"Ifrit asked me to pass along his regards to Lady Gratia," a man said calmly.
"Oh, Ifrit? Is he beside you now? It's been so long... Three hundred years, was it?" Gratia replied.
"Yes. It says your fishy scales are just as they were before," the man added.
"...And its trashy personality hasn't changed either. This is why I hate the Spirit of Fire," Gratia grumbled.
"Yes, well, Ifrit says it hates blue dragons that reek of the sea just as much... Ah, forgive me! I'm only relaying his words!" the man said.
This was Orion, the Spirit King of Fire Ifrit's contractor, and the greatest spirit mage of the Southern Great Forest.
From the group that had once fought the Fragment of Slaughter, Leon was absent, and Seria had joined instead. With Caron, Leo, Utula, Orion, and Seria—they made five in total. And then...
"Hehe, Caron, couldn't you just let me ride on her back too?" Libre asked.
"No. Black mages like you always stab people in the back. You stay there. We're heading into the Demon Realm—what happens if you betray us?" Caron replied.
"But we're already bound by fate!" Libre pointed out.
"Shut it and cling to that cage," Caron snapped.
Libre, the insane black mage, grinned from inside an iron cage attached to Gratia's tail.
"It's an honor to accompany you like this, Caron! Though I must say, the treatment stings a little. But I'm sure, by the end of this war, you'll come to like me," Libre said.
"If you're still alive, maybe I'll think about it," Caron replied.
"Oh dear. I suppose I'll have to become a lich then! I'll keep that in mind!" Libre said.
With Gratia and even a black mage like Libre, their magical strength was perfectly reinforced.
Truthfully, Caron would have loved to bring along his former subordinates, but the forces positioned at the fringes of 8-Star were far too precious. He had no choice but to assign his former subordinates evenly among the other units.
Caron glanced at his companions for this expedition and smiled with satisfaction. The time had been short, but the lineup was solid. Once the main force arrived, Hugo and Leon would join as well, so there was little to worry about. Not to mention, the Avengers were waiting in his pouch of dimensional space.
"Everything is perfectly prepared," Caron said with a grin of confidence.
While he smiled, Leo and Seria exchanged a few sharp words.
"Do you think we'll die faster being torn apart by demons, or from Caron's nagging driving us mad? What do you think, Saintess?" Leo asked.
"Leo," Seria said calmly.
"Yes?" Leo replied.
"One thing is certain... You'd be the first to die. But worry not—I'll save your life. After all, your beloved asked me to," Seria said.
"Wait... Adina?" Leo asked.
"Yes. She begged me to bring you back in one piece. So I'll keep an eye out for you," Seria answered.
"...Thank you," Leo muttered bitterly, his pride wounded yet again.
"We're moving out. Hold on tight, everyone," Gratia's voice rumbled in their minds.
Whoosh!
Her massive body shot upward toward the sky. The vanguard's mission had begun.
***
Caron and his companions soared through the skies, matching the speed of the Magic Tower's airships. Below them, massive warships plowed through the North Sea, flanked by sleek escort vessels.
The colossal ships belonged to the Neon Kingdom and the Free City Union. The nimble escorts, however, were none other than the pride of the Pirate Queen's fleet, lightning-fast warships renowned for their speed.
The Acceleration Routes powered by mana-guided devices exceeded everyone's expectations. The fleet surged forward with breathtaking velocity, slicing through the icy waters of the North Sea.
The closer they drew to the Demon Realm, the more ferocious demonic monsters swarmed to intercept them. Yet before the overwhelming firepower unleashed by the airships, those creatures were reduced to nothing more than shredded flesh.
It had only been five days since the vanguard departed from Desertus—a journey that would normally have taken two full weeks.
"...I see it," someone muttered.
On the horizon, where the endless line of the sea once stretched, land finally appeared. A vast expanse of earth spread beneath a violet sky.
There was no doubt—it was the Demon Realm.
Caron twisted his lips into a crooked smile as he laid eyes on the cursed land for the first time. He muttered under his breath, "So, that's the Demon Realm, huh?"
The distance between them and their destination shrank rapidly. To Caron, the sight seemed oddly ordinary—little different from the coasts of the continent. Just as the scouts had reported, this landing zone was perfect for establishing a foothold.
Strangely shaped rock formations lined the shore like natural breakwaters, forming a sizable bay. The reconnaissance squad had named it "The Vanguard's Bay"—the ideal location for the first forward base of the great expedition.
"Owner, I sense the black mana of Sloth," Guillotine informed Caron.
"Well, this is the Domain of Sloth," Caron replied.
Sloth was the one who had toyed with Ugo's soul and driven the Eastern Great Forest to ruin. At Caron's words, Orion, seated beside him, ground his teeth with rage.
"Sloth... Even the name makes my blood boil," the elf spat.
The being they hunted had slaughtered countless of his kin. For Orion, anger was inevitable.
"Be patient," Caron said calmly, his tone almost soothing. "I'll make sure you're the one to drive the blade into his neck."
Caron turned his gaze to the coastline, scanning the eerie stillness. Surprisingly, the shore was quiet. He'd expected it to be crawling with demonic monsters, but there was nothing—only stretches of gray sand.
"Do you think it's a trap?" Leo asked cautiously.
Caron smirked and answered, "And if it is?"
"If we land, we could walk right into an ambush," Leo reasoned.
"Fair point," Caron admitted with a shrug. "But there's a simple fix for that."
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a communication orb, asking, "Anyone on the line?"
Moments later, a familiar voice echoed from the other end, "I'm listening. Speak."
It was Cor, the Archmage and the Master of the Imperial Magic Tower.
"Cor, your detection artifacts didn't pick up anything, correct?" Caron asked.
"The land is drenched in dark mana. Those devices can't function properly here... Still, nothing noticeable so far. Why?" Cor asked.
"Because we've arrived," Caron said, his grin widening. "Time to give them a proper greeting."
Cor chuckled on the other end, instantly catching Caron's meaning. He asked, "Very well. Shall we deliver something spectacular?"
"Exactly. We'll need to clear the ground for construction anyway. Let's tear the whole place apart," Caron answered.
"I'm on it," Cor said.
Whoosh!
From the hovering airships above, an immense surge of mana condensed, drawing power from mountains of high-grade Mana Stones.
Seeing this, Caron turned to Gratia with a wicked smile and asked, "Gratia, care to add a little fire to the show?"
The dragon inhaled deeply and exhaled a colossal breath of devastation toward the gray shoreline.
Fwoosh.
Behind that breath infused with overwhelming draconic mana, the mana turrets beneath the airships erupted, unleashing thousands of spells in a relentless storm.
Dragon breath and arcane firepower—together, they rained pure annihilation upon the coast.
Kaboom!
The once-quiet shore erupted into a hellish tempest. Dust clouds roared into the sky as the earth split and twisted under cataclysmic force, ripping apart everything in its path.
Through the chaos, the shrieks of demonic monsters pierced the air.
Kiieekkkkk!
Gyaahhhhh!
Demonic monsters wailed in agony as warships positioned offshore unleashed a thunderous barrage.
Boom!
The cannons—personally enhanced by dwarven artisans—fired round after round, shaking the heavens.
This was the fury of a world long oppressed, unleashed without mercy upon its tormentors. No matter how vile the Demon Realm's demonic monsters were, they couldn't withstand such raw force.
Caron grinned at the infernal spectacle, the coastline now transformed into a scene from the deepest pits of hell.
For countless years, demonkind and their monsters had invaded the continent, leaving rivers of blood in their wake.But now, the tables had turned.
This time, it wasn't the Demon Kings invading the continent; it was the continent invading a Demon King.
"Well," Caron said, turning to his companions, his voice sharp as a blade, "our turn has finally come."
He swept his gaze across his comrades before continuing, "Once we land, there's no turning back. Does anyone want to leave now?"
Of course, not a single soul spoke.
Satisfied, Caron licked his lips and let out a laugh, his voice thick with malice as he said, "Then let's go!"
And so, at that moment, history was made.
For the first time, the great expedition set foot upon the accursed Demon Realm, and the blade forged by the continent finally struck its target.