Prince Kyren Kin'jal gazed upon the vast army of a hundred thousand elites that marched before him, unable to recall a time when this many souls had been fielded.

  Moreover, these were no o grunts. They were the finest of this newly-formed allied army. It had taken a full year of slogging, but his family had managed this unthinkable feat. Never could Kyren have dreamed that his father’s strategy would be so successful.

  The previously unassailable enemy had been brought to their knees, and all it had taken was a simple trick.

  Though, Kyren could not avert his eyes when the truth of things stood beside him. They both stood atop a raised wooden platform carried by their support staff, affording them a clear view of the vast army.

  Kyren glanced at the monster in human skin that they called a Prime Mejai of the Altani.

  To think this one man has the power to level an entire city… Kin’jal’s strength was nothing but a pale shadow of a delusion, after all.

  The Altani could have wiped the Kin'jal Empire off the map whenever they so wished. They were stopped only by a council bogged down in bureaucracy and politics.

  A terrifying thought, and one that made the prince shudder. That kind of magic should not have existed in the first place, but if it must exist, then it should be in the hands of the Kin’jal and no one else.

  And while the Altani had only a small handful of mejai capable of charging those orbs, they had dozens who could detonate them, should they be precharged.

  Lunacy. They could not be trusted with such power.

  Yet now that they’d actually deployed the weapon, the Altani would be much less averse to their use in the future. They’d woken a sleeping Prana Swarm, and now, the whole realm had to live with it.

  Thankfully, that tenuous situation should not last much longer. Kyren had ensured that as many of the abominable mejai would perish in the coming confrontation. Yes, the Altani had taken losses during their march. Yes, the enemy’s guerrilla warfare gouged them where it hurt.

  It was not enough. The Altani remained strong, and despite their setbacks, they endured. Which was precisely why Kyren had assigned the Kin'jal forces to the rear, allowing the Altani to serve as the vanguard—giving up the privilege with oh so much reluctance.

  Not to mention the greater mobility of the Altani with their fancy skyships and lighter troops. In fact, the entire Balarian force was a heavier, slower-moving one, not fit to be the tip of the spear.

  Or at least, those were the lies Kyren spun.

  His troops could move every bit as fast as the Altani if they so wished, but the goal of this war was not to win.

  It was to cripple the Altani so Kin’jal operatives could infiltrate, crumbling their country from within.

  No, the demons were not the real threat. As fearsome as they were, the enemy was soft. They’d been soft under the Akh Nara, and were doubly so under Maiya’s leadership. To think a human led an army of demons.

  A mere Mejai of Realms, barely capable of casting A Grade magic, no less. What gave her the right to command so many?

  And what did it say about those demons—a stronger, more capable species—that they would bend the knee and fight under her banner? Pathetic.

  Kyren had initially been skeptical of his father’s claims that these demons were as strong as they were—that they could beat him in battle. After seeing them fight, after seeing them rip through his forces and the Altani mejai with ease, he knew his father had not exaggerated.

  Numbers and tactics mattered little when the foe was unkillable through ordinary means. B-rank magic had no effect upon them. Their seemingly unlimited prana reserves made for a devastating combination when coupled with their bizarre demonic arts. To say nothing of the goddess who fought at their side.

  A fact that made Kyren burn with envy.

  Where had she been all this time? Such a precious resource, and one the Akh Nara had utterly failed to exploit. The friendship of a being from the Age of Gods—perhaps the only living being from that era who still lived.

  She was the stuff of legend, and entire cults had formed in her honor. Her presence alone had nearly cowed the Altani, undoing all their work. It was only his father’s desperate intervention, convincing them that she was on the side of demons and would never rest until humanity was wiped out, that had kept them from bending the knee.

  Little wonder, Kyren supposed. They had named a city after her. To think it was the very same Ashani from the myths… How Kyren and the Kin’jal had even made it this far, he did not know.

  Even with Andros’ efforts, the Altani were now split between those who worshiped her and those who guiltily resisted.

  A situation that, ironically, favored Kin’jal. While complete defection to the enemy’s side would have proven devastating, cutting the Altani down into two factions had been a blessing in disguise, with the two sides slaughtering each other, reducing the nation’s threat.

  Even after this war, after Kin'jal prevailed, the two factions would forever be at odds. A knife that Kyren and his father could twist, perhaps even inciting a full-blown civil war. How glorious would it be, if it was not Kin’jal that brought them down, but the Altani themselves?

  The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  While there was much to look forward to, that was all for later. First, they would take Kartara from this Hiranyan who dared fashion himself a king. There were no kings in Kin'jal—only vassal states, and at long last, Sai was about to fall, and with the demons cowed, there would be no one to stop them this time.

  Kyren’s mind flashed to the rumors, but brushed them off. Their leader was dead. What army would withhold such a powerful hand if he still lived? No, this so-called Akh Nara had perished. Propaganda by the enemy, nothing more, and Maiya had become nothing more than a scared little girl.

  All it had taken was the destruction of a single city to break them. What pure cowardice.

  Any offensive the enemy took was returned with threats of the annihilation of a major city. A rational response—if the city had been in their kingdom. Maiya did not even have a kingdom in this realm, and the threats worked even when Matali or Ranian cities were threatened.

  It only served to prove to Kyren that the Kin’jal way was correct. His father would never suffer such threats—returning any devastation upon the enemy tenfold, and all the better if the enemy razed another country’s cities. All the better to conquer them with in the future.

  Kyren had to admit—the Kin'jal would make ideal rulers for the Altani. They would put their mejai to good use, unlike the dysfunctional council.

  Balarian warriors, enhanced and protected by Altani mejai, had proven an absolutely devastating combination. So much so that they even gave some of Maiya’s demons pause.

  No, there would be no real resistance from the enemy, Kyren thought with sadness as he looked over his forces. Pockets, here and there. Skirmishes. Enough to damage the Altani, but never enough to threaten the course of this war.

  If only they would. Kyren rather enjoyed the idea of watching another city get wiped off the face of the realm. Daha in Hiranya? Or perhaps Kartara itself? While Kin’jal would rather take ownership of a land with people and industry, sometimes it was better to rebuild from scratch. And Kartara had been a thorn in their side for far too long already.

  “There—in the distance. Do you see that?” The Altani Prime Mejai pointed, interrupting his reverie.

  It took some time for Kyren to find what the mejai was pointing at. He expected an enemy army, or perhaps a skirmishing squad. Their uncanny ability to emerge from Ash Gates at a moment’s notice never failed to sow discord within the ranks.

  But no. This was no army.

  It was but one demon. A solitary figure standing in the middle of a vast field.

  “Not a scout or vanguard?” Kyren asked, frowning. This was strange behavior on their foes’ part. “A deception, perhaps?”

  The Prime Mejai shook his head. “We are days from Kartara. Too far for any scouts to range. Why fight us here rather than from the safety of their walls? Besides, scouts hardly need to reveal themselves with an army as large as ours.”

  “A fair point.”

  The enemy had their ‘airships’ for that, and while slower, more poorly armed, and cruder contraptions than the refined war machines that were the Altani fast?attack skyships, they functioned decently as scouts.

  It was the only role they could serve after the Altani had annihilated them in their early bouts. The demons aboard were powerful foes, yes, but it hardly mattered when the Altani hurled magic from far beyond their range, destroying their vessels.

  That being the case, what was this lone demon doing here?

  Kyren spotted not a single other demon out there. Nor was this an area that afforded the enemy any opportunity to hide. The valley stretched for miles in every direction. Empty, and without a spot of cover in sight.

  “I do not like this,” the Prime Mejai muttered beside him, motioning to his troops to attack.

  Kyren dismissed his concern. “It is but one demon, and not the four-armed red one. What can they do against such a vast army? Let us attack and be done with him.”

  “I have already given word,” the Prime Mejai replied. Sure enough, dozens of magical blasts arced out. Bolts of lightning arced out, fireballs exploded, the land itself surged, and steam burst through, all converging on the poor demon.

  This wasn’t an attack. It was a massacre to the point that Kyren almost pitied their poor opponent.

  When the dust finally settled, nothing remained. Not a trace of the demon was left.

  “What a fool,” Kyren said. “Perhaps he wished to die?”

  The Altani Prime Mejai frowned. “Perhaps so. Odd that we have never seen this tactic from their kind before. Stay alert.”

  “Yes, well, they are demons, are they not?” Prince Kyren replied. “Who can say what bizarre rituals in which they partake? This could have been an intentional sacrifice, for all we know. Some punishment for failure.”

  “Perhaps…” the mejai murmured.

  “Anyway, I suggest we—!?”

  Kyren’s eyes went wide—or tried to. Suddenly, with no warning at all, he found he could not move. Not one arm nor even a single finger.

  His skin crawled, the hair on his neck standing on end, and a cold sweat drenched his back.

  There was something behind him. Something so lethal, his body refused to obey his commands.

  Kyren knew he wasn’t the strongest around, but the Prime Mejai—he’d at least—!?

  The Prime Mejai trembled in terror. Staring at something behind them.

  Slowly, with immense effort, Kyren turned.

  It was a demon, but a demon unlike any one.

  Both smaller and yet somehow more terrifying than even that four-armed giant.

  Jet-black horns protruded from his head, and though not as tall as the giant, he still towered over the tallest human.

  And then there were the flames. Jet-black fire that burned off the demon’s body, seemingly without harming him.

  Then, unexpectedly, Kyren’s world was turned upside down.

  Where the demon had possessed but a single face only moments ago were now four—each facing a different direction, each wearing a different expression,

  Joy, sorrow, anger, serenity.

  The demon’s two arms became ten, each bearing a different weapon.

  Kyren had never truly experienced the existential terror in his life, for that was a feeling of weakness.

  In those few moments, however, Kyren came to know terror.

  He wished to scream, but no sound came. His body was locked, frozen in place. Even his eyes refused to move.

  In the presence of this almighty being, he understood the truth of the world.

  He understood that the creature before him was no mere demon. Nor even a mortal.

  This was a deity from beyond the pale. An abomination whose existence was too great for this world to bear.

  This deity did not speak. It did not even look at them, each face gazing beyond to the soldiers in the distance.

  Without the Prime Mejai’s skin ignited—the black fire spreading up his body, consuming it.

  Kyren heard his bones crack and his body crumple, as though an invisible mountain had been dropped upon him.

  Yet the mejai still did not move. Did not even grunt in pain. The flames consumed his flesh, bypassing the litany of orbs he carried as though they weren’t even there.

  This elite Prime Mejai, capable of destroying an entire city with a single spell, was immolated in seconds.

  Nothing remained. Not ash. Not a corpse. Not a trace. Nothing.

  And then it was Kyren’s turn.

  The fire was pain unlike anything he had ever known. His body exploded, overloaded with prana, his organs rupturing one after another.

  It was only when Kyren’s vision began to dim—when he looked upon this demon god who continued to gaze into the distance with its four faces—that he understood.

  It didn’t even attack us…

  This god’s mere presence had ended one of the most powerful mejai in the world, and now, it would do the same to him.

  Kyren tried to laugh, only to find his actions still bound.

  This god had not acknowledged him. It had not fought him. It hadn’t even actively killed him. He was beneath its notice. Less than a bug.

  All his plans, all his machinations—erased.

  Not well fought in an honorable battle, nor with a sword to the chest.

  But by simply being too close to a god.