Masquith ..a strange entity of unknown origin, one Agaroth was fond of conversing with. The King had given him a place in Helmond, making him one of the Dukes of Hell.
Masquith was eccentric, the one who had invented the Demon Seed .. an experiment that defied the laws of life and death themselves.
With his help, Marvas might indeed be able to break through. That was the possibility Izalith hinted at.
"I don’t understand," Marvas said warily. "Why tell me this, when you serve Wesker?"
Izalith chuckled softly.
"Regardless of our differences, we’re still on the same side .. don’t forget that. Making you stronger benefits us all in the coming wars."
She smiled, then added, her eyes glinting with amusement,
"Besides... it’ll make things far more interesting this way."
Her last words revealed her true intent far more than the first.
The Blood Witch was as twisted as her pupil .. perhaps even worse.
Wesker currently had every advantage, especially after uncovering the truth about Nameless and weaving his web among the ever-evolving humans.
Compared to him, Marvas seemed to be falling behind.
So she decided to give him a push .. to keep the balance.
And she seemed to be enjoying every second of it.
...
...
...
The Summit of the Nightmare.
The name fit it perfectly.
A catastrophic event that gathered the demonic monstrosities whose very presence brought death and ruin wherever they went.
One by one, the High Seats arrived—each step shaking the foundations of the abyss.
After the Second Seat, Agaris, entered, the rest followed swiftly until every seat was filled... all except the First, who had yet to appear.
At the center of the hall stood the masked Amon, the Eleventh Seat, commanding the room like a conductor before an orchestra of calamities.
Each being present was a disaster in their own right:
Second Seat – Agares, the Tyrant
Third Seat – Vain, the Catastrophe
Fourth Seat – Wesker, the Scholar
Fifth Seat – Marvas, the General
Sixth Seat – Asmodeus, the Lord of Graves
Seventh Seat – Izalith, the Blood Queen
Eighth Seat – Yosefka, the Cannibal
Ninth Seat – Nito, the Betrayer
Tenth Seat – Zibar, the One-Man Army
And of course, others like Amon (11) and Gepetto (13).
Even Wesker himself was there—he wouldn’t dare ignore a summons from the First.
Every one of them had abandoned their battles, conquests, and obsessions to answer this call—an order that weighed heavily upon them.
None knew what Crimson had in store, and that silence was almost unbearable.
As time crawled on, tension thickened in the air, especially between the Fourth and Fifth.
Marvas had always despised Wesker, and the latter knew exactly how to exploit that.
The King’s Eye moved by its own whims, driven by schemes that only Wesker understood—but those whims always led to greatness.
What everyone had thought to be Wesker’s disappearance for trivial games on Earth turned out to be something far greater—he had been hunting Nameless and the remnants of his cult who survived to this day.
That revelation made his long absence entirely justified, leaving Marvas with nothing to say.
Once again, the Fourth had outplayed him.
Zibar, too, was present .. but vastly different from the version Frey Starlight had fought.
Clad in the towering Katarina Armor and radiating his full, genuine aura, he now emanated power and menace far beyond that half-strength clone.
The division between factions was clear as daylight.
The Sixth, Seventh, and Tenth sided with Wesker, while the Eighth and Ninth—and most ranks between Eleven and Fifteen—followed Marvas.
Amon alone remained neutral.
It was no surprise that hostility hung heavy in the air.
Ever since the King’s seclusion, the two sides had clashed endlessly for dominance over demonkind.
Then .. just as the tension reached its breaking point .. Amon’s voice struck through the silence like a thunderclap.
"The First Seat has arrived—Lord Crimson."
At those words, all gazes turned as the Red Moon itself stepped into the hall.
Clad in the Blood Armor, the Slayer of Kings gripped in his right hand, Crimson advanced step by step—each one sending crushing waves of pressure through the room.
The force was unbearable; even the strongest unleashed their auras just to remain standing.
And amid that storm of power, Wesker laughed.
"So this... is the King’s aura."
Crimson had always been different .. special.
Unlike the rest, who could endure only one of Agaroth’s world-shattering abilities, Crimson possessed several... and bore them effortlessly.
This presence .. the Aura of the King ..was one of them.
"The First Seat, Crimson, wields an aura equal to King Agaroth himself—and his reserve of power matches as well."
That fact alone was terrifying .. never mind his other abilities.
It was clear he existed on an entirely different plane.
Even Agares, the indomitable Second, wasn’t his equal.
Standing in the center of the hall, Crimson drove his great spear into the ground, his gaze sweeping over the assembly.
Amon quietly withdrew to his designated seat, leaving the First complete command.
And thus, Crimson began the meeting.
"I see you are all here, my fellow demons."
His deep voice resonated through the iron hall, carved by centuries of restraint.
As he paced slowly, his piercing eyes .. and overwhelming aura .. seemed to stab through each of them in turn.
"How many years has it been?" he said, pulling his spear free from the floor.
"Hundreds? Thousands?"
It had indeed been ages since Crimson had withdrawn from the world.
All that time, he had stood as the Gatekeeper of Agaroth, guarding the sealed path to his King with absolute, unshakable loyalty.
"It’s been a long time indeed," he continued. "Yet your faces... haven’t changed at all."
His words, at first, sounded like acknowledgment—but what followed stripped them of all warmth.
"That’s... pitiful."
The mockery in his tone cut deep.
"Has the world become so peaceful that you no longer fear for your lives, my brothers and sisters in darkness?"
He stepped closer .. and the pressure intensified again.
Emotionless, his voice remained cold as steel. But it was clear Crimson was far from pleased.
For though the High Seats hadn’t fallen for millennia... they hadn’t achieved anything remarkable either.
The age of wars had ended.
There were no longer many battles of life and death.
The demons still waged their conquests upon other races .. but their pace had slowed to a crawl, and they were no longer the harbingers of annihilation they once were.
"In that case..." Crimson said, his voice laced with mockery, "why don’t I slaughter you all myself and save us the trouble?"
A suffocating killing intent erupted from him .. so overwhelming that every High Seat instantly rose from their thrones, their instincts screaming in alarm.
Crimson laughed, the sound echoing through the steel chamber like thunder.
"Excellent. At least your combat senses haven’t dulled."
With a twisted grin stretching across his face, he spun the King-Slayer in his hand.
"Let’s see then .. what do the Ten Seats have left to show me?"
His voice boomed through the hall as he swung the spear .. and in that moment, a crimson catastrophe exploded from its blade.
In a single motion, the world turned blood-red.
Those gathered were engulfed by the sheer, maddening force of the First Seat’s might.
With one swing alone... the Twelfth through Fifteenth Seats were obliterated.
Only the top ten and Amon .. survived, barely managing to deflect the attack.
Sensing the danger closing in, three demons lunged forward at once, surrounding Crimson.
Agares, the Second, charged from the front .. while Zibar and Marvas flanked him from both sides.
Marvas summoned the great armor Morgul, coating his body in a massive layer of defense, while Zibar activated the dreadful Katarina Armor.
Both were weapons of mass destruction, fortifying their endurance beyond reason .. fitting for the two strongest defenders alongside Agares.
Crimson, however, ignored the devastating strikes from Marvas and Zibar ..blows that could have annihilated even an SSS-class being ..and focused solely on Agares, the strongest among them after himself.
Agares’s fist ignited with a thick, viscous aura of darkness, his toughness surpassing the very laws of the world.
That fist collided with Crimson’s King-Slayer, now burning with a fierce scarlet aura.
The impact was apocalyptic ..
so violent that Marvas and Zibar were sent hurtling backward, crushed by the shockwave.
Their attacks had struck true, yet Crimson’s Blood Armor absorbed every ounce of damage without effort.
As Agares and Crimson’s powers clashed, the First began to laugh again—low and menacing.
"What’s wrong, brother?" he taunted. "Is this the King’s Hardness you boast so proudly of?"
His eyes glowed, his entire body igniting in seething crimson light.
A torrent of aura burst outward like a storm, engulfing Agares completely.
"If that’s all you’ve got..." Crimson’s voice thundered, "...then how utterly disappointing!"
BOOOOOOM!
A roaring crimson explosion tore through the hall, launching Agares like a meteor.
He crashed through the ground, skidding across the desolate surface for miles until his body finally came to a stop—blood spilling from his knuckles.
The very fist said to rival the King’s durability... had been wounded.
Gritting his teeth, Agares roared and leapt back toward the battlefield.
By then, every remaining High Seat had charged in together—
and Crimson stood alone, laughing, his terrifying grin widening as he raised the King-Slayer once more.
"Come then! All of you!"
And thus began a cataclysmic battle—
a clash so fierce it shook the very foundation of Helmond itself.
The true beginning of the Nightmare.