Covering the plains below, marching along wide stone roads, and laboring around massive alchemical structures were thousands upon thousands of demons.
Horned behemoths clad in dark steel, four-armed shadow stalkers gliding through the tree lines, flame-wreathed infernal brutes tending the magma channels, and legions of disciplined soldiers stood organized in immaculate, military precision.
In Caeloria, and across the entire mortal realm, demons were viewed as the ultimate existential plague.
Monsters of pure corruption that were to be exterminated on sight with extreme prejudice.
"Demons..." Sylvea Starling shrieked, clutching the fabric of her gown in sheer panic as she stumbled backward against the rock. "It’s an abyssal nest! We’ve been brought into the depths of a demon nest!"
Calix Meridan drew his rapier halfway from its sheath, his knuckles white, his amber eyes darting frantically across the horizon.
"An ambush! Your Majesty, we are surrounded by abominations! The entire valley is crawling with them!"
Elowen Ashwood pressed her fingers against her temples, her sharp emerald eyes darting from the volcanic ridges to the crystal glaciers.
"This is not a pocket dimension. The mana density here is five times higher than the capital. The atmospheric pressure alone is warping my channels. Where on this world does such an empire exist?"
"It does not exist in our world," Sable Malakor said, her amethyst eyes wide as she looked at Jack’s back. "He hasn’t brought us to a local cavern. This is an entirely separate plane of existence."
Theo Althalos immediately drew his broadsword, stepping in front of King Maelor, his golden hair whipping in the wind as his cerulean eyes blazed with desperate martial fervor.
"Defensive perimeter! Form ranks! Sentries, lock shields! Protect the King from the horde!"
Jack Kaiser took three slow steps toward the edge of the plateau.
VUUUUUUM.
A pulse of pure, absolute spiritual authority radiated outward from Jack’s chest, sweeping across the entire expanse of Floor 25 like an invisible tidal wave.
The moment the pulse washed over the horizon, the colossal demonic civilization ground to a dead, instantaneous halt.
From the volcanic ridges to the deep forests, across every road and training square, over forty thousand demons turned in unison toward the high plateau.
Without a single roar, without a single chaotic movement, forty thousand demons dropped simultaneously to one knee.
They pressed their fists to the dirt, bowing their horned heads in absolute, unbroken silence.
The ten councilors stood paralyzed, their jaws slack. Theo Althalos’s sword hand trembled, the blade lowering an inch as his pureblood worldview cracked down the center.
These were not feral, ravenous beasts; this was a disciplined, terrifying empire of horrors that answered to a single human master.
Jack turned back to face the assembly, his heterochromic eyes cold and unreadable.
"Welcome to Floor 25 of the Tartarus Spire," Jack said, his voice carrying effortlessly across the plateau.
"This is my domain. This Spire operates on an ancient hierarchy of absolute strength. Every creature you see below has signed an unbreakable Soul Contract. They do not move, breathe, or strike without my explicit command. And this is where your trial will take place."
Jack looked between Rhys and Theo Althalos, stepping between the two claimants.
"The rules of this trial are simple," Jack stated, each word landing with administrative clarity. "You will both be tasked with clearing three consecutive floors of this Spire. Captain Althalos, as the challenger representing the old standard, you will navigate Floors 11, 12, and 13. Prince Rhys, as the true claimant to the Throne, you will navigate Floors 20, 21, and 22."
Theo’s brow furrowed, his tactical instincts registering the difference in numbers. "Floors 11 through 13 versus Floors 20 through 22? The depth discrepancy is immense."
"The danger scales exponentially with each floor," Jack confirmed flatly. "Floors 11 through 13 feature crags, shifting miasma, and roaming packs of high-tier beasts. Floors 20 through 22 are high-pressure volcanic wastelands populated by territorial Disaster-class entities and spatial anomalies. To secure victory and claim the trial, each participant must retrieve a Blood Tree from their designated sector, along with the physical proof of the three floor guardians’ deaths."
Sirius Anake stepped forward, his scarred jaw tight. "A Blood Tree? What manner of artifact is that?"
"It is a vital relic of the Spire," Jack replied smoothly, keeping his tone measured. "Its root systems tap directly into the floor’s foundational mana. It is exceptionally fragile, heavily protected by the natives, and critical to this sector’s stability. Harvesting one requires absolute precision and control. Furthermore, Floor 12 and Floor 20 have no native clan leaders.
Therefore, Captain Althalos, you must harvest and present a Dread-rank beast core and body from Floor 12. Prince Rhys, you must harvest and present a Disaster-rank beast core and body from Floor 20. The first one to return to this plateau with all objectives fulfilled wins the trial."
Sable Malakor stepped forward, her amethyst eyes narrowing sharply as she looked at Jack. "A dungeon trial in an uncharted, alien spire? If a participant perishes within the depths, the challenge becomes meaningless. How is this a fair contest of military capability?"
"A regular dungeon would be entirely unfair," Jack replied, turning his gaze toward the sky. "In a mortal dungeon, death is permanent, and external variables cannot be balanced. Here, I provide an absolute insurance policy."
Jack raised both hands, dark mana gathering along his fingertips as he splayed his hands wide.
The sky above Floor 25 fractured.
A deafening, primordial roar tore through the heavens as shadows blocked out the aurora light.
Descending through the clouds in disciplined, sweeping formations came a force that stole the remaining breath from every high elf present.
Three thousand eight hundred and ninety-two dragons descended in terrifying unison.
Five hundred colossal, Emperor-class dragons led the vanguard, their scales radiating ancient, elemental pressure that warped the gravitational field around the plateau, followed by three thousand three hundred and ninety-two Disaster-class dragons that circled the peak in defensive rings.
Landing upon the plateau with thunderous weight came the core sentinels of the Soul Warden’s army.
Two hundred and forty-seven Dread-rank Minotaurs planted their massive black-iron axes into the stone, flanked by sixteen Dread-rank Shadow Panthers whose bodies blurred into the shadows.
A colossal Dread-rank Ice Drake curled around the northern ledge, exhaling crystalline frost that coated the stone in sheets of blue rime.
Beside them stood Stormfang, the four-meter-tall Disaster-rank dragon with yellow lightning crackling across his fur, alongside the martial sentinel Pho, who stood with crossed arms and burning eyes.
Kyren, Corvin, and Loryn formed ranks near the multi-headed Disaster-rank Hydra, whose caustic breath hissed against the rock. At the same time, the Voidweaver wove spatial rifts along the perimeter, and the Disaster-rank Serpent coiled its massive leviathan form around the lower ridge.
Two hundred Dread-rank Blight Demons locked shields in tight formation beside one thousand and eleven white-armored Dark Elves, and standing silent at Jack’s right hand was Ren Ryzard, the Sovereign-rank master of the blade.
The ten councilors fell to their knees entirely of their own accord, their minds breaking under the sheer, concentrated mana radiating from an army capable of erasing their entire civilization in an afternoon.
Jack lowered his hands, gesturing toward the assembled legions as he addressed Theo and Rhys.
"To ensure that this trial tests tactical leadership and martial prowess rather than pure luck, you are both permitted to select one single unit from my vanguard to serve as your support companion," Jack explained, his voice echoing across the quiet plateau.
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