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Beyond the mountains, a massive wall of smoke and dust surged forward like a living tide. It rolled across the land, swallowing the horizon. Within it, churned a dark reddish crimson mist that seemed thick enough to touch. It pulsed and twisted, radiating a killing intent so heavy that it crushed the chest and froze the blood.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

Each step shook the earth.

What happened next shattered everyone’s sanity.

From the depths of the mist, a silhouette slowly emerged. It was enormous, as large as a hill and its outline uneven and grotesque.

As it moved closer, its shape became clearer. Long arms dragged along the ground, each ending in huge, widened claws that stretched more than a hundred meters, tearing deep trenches into the earth with every movement.

The soldiers stood frozen.

Their legs refused to move.

The creature raised its head.

Then it opened its mouth.

The sky screamed.

A massive vortex formed inside its maw, spinning violently. Wind howled as the storm exploded outward and then reversed, turning into a terrifying suction.

“Ahhh!”

“No! NO!”

People were ripped off their feet.

Recruits screamed as their bodies were dragged across the ground. Fingernails tore off as they clawed at rocks and dirt. Some grabbed onto others, only for both to be pulled away together. Armor scraped and shattered. Bones snapped with sickening cracks.

Trees were torn from the ground like weeds. Their roots snapped free, soil flying everywhere as they were sucked into the storm. Barracks collapsed as wooden beams ripped loose and vanished into the vortex.

Hundreds of humans were swallowed at once.

They screamed as they were lifted into the air, their bodies spinning helplessly before being dragged into the monster’s mouth. The sound cut off abruptly, replaced by wet, crushing noises that made bile rise in the throat.

The ground was stripped bare where the storm passed.

Blood sprayed through the air like rain.

Just when despair swallowed everything—

A streak of light flashed across the sky.

It cut through the crimson mist like a blade.

CKANG!

The light slammed into the figure head with terrifying force.

“GUHAAA!”

A painful, inhuman shriek erupted. The massive body staggered and crashed sideways into the mountain. Rock exploded outward as the peak collapsed, burying half the creature under rubble.

Silence fell for half a heartbeat.

Then a man appeared atop the ruined hill.

He stood calmly, his presence alone forcing the storm to recoil. His aura was sharp and overwhelming, pressing down on everyone like an invisible mountain.

The demon struggled, claws scraping uselessly against stone as it tried to rise.

Before it could—

A bright ray of light shot forward.

The figure flashed.

There was a single, clean motion.

For an instant, everything went silent.

Then the demon’s head slid from its neck.

The massive skull hit the ground with a thunderous thud, shaking the earth once more. The body followed, collapsing like a fallen tower.

Dust and debris filled the air.

People stared, unable to breathe.

“What… What is that monster?” someone whispered.

“That’s not a monster,” another said, his voice shaking. “It’s a demon from Beelzebub.”

“Demon… what the fuck is a demon doing—”

He stopped mid-sentence.

His eyes widened.

Beyond the flattened mountain, the dust slowly cleared.

And what lay beyond made their skin crawl.

Rows upon rows of dark figures marched forward. Horned silhouettes. Twisted shapes. Burning eyes glowing in the distance.

An endless army of demonic beasts.

“They’re attacking us!” someone screamed. “Retreat! Retreat immediately!”

“Send an urgent message!”

“We can’t deal with this!”

Panic erupted as soldiers turned and fled, their hearts filled with one terrifying truth.

This was the beginning of an invasion.

The alarm bells rang across the capital of Frontier.

The sound was deep and heavy, rolling through stone streets and tall watchtowers, echoing again and again as if the city itself was crying out. Every chime pressed down on the hearts of the people, filling the air with unease and dread.

Inside the royal court, the atmosphere was suffocating.

The vast hall was crowded with nobles, generals, scholars, and high-ranking knights. Robes brushed against armor. Metal creaked softly. No one dared to speak loudly. Whispers spread like insects crawling under the skin, sharp and uncomfortable.

At the center of the hall, seated upon a throne of dark steel and jade, sat the King of Frontier.

King Albrecht Frontier.

He was neither young nor old. Streaks of gray ran through his hair, yet his back was straight, his shoulders firm. His eyes were sharp and calm, like a deep lake that hid dangerous currents beneath its surface. He did not rage. He did not panic. He simply listened.

A battered scout knelt at the center of the hall. His armor was cracked and bent, stained with blood and ash. His breathing was uneven, and his hands trembled as they pressed against the cold marble floor.

“…Your Majesty,” the scout said, his voice shaking, “the western border has fallen. A demon vanguard emerged beyond Mount Arhat. One… one of them was as large as a hill.”

A murmur spread through the court.

Fear flickered across faces. Some nobles clenched their fists. Others swallowed hard.

“Silence,” the king said calmly.

The single word cut through the hall like a blade. Every sound died instantly.

The scout swallowed and continued, forcing himself to speak. “The Duke of the Western Region struck it down, but beyond that… There is an army. Thousands. No… more. They are marching.”

King Albrecht rested his chin on his clasped hands. His gaze was distant, yet focused, as if he were already looking beyond the walls of the capital.

“Withdrawn properly?” he asked.

“Yes, Your Majesty. The retreat was ordered immediately. Emergency messages were sent.”

“Good,” the king replied. “You did well. Step aside and receive treatment.”

The scout bowed deeply, relief washing over his broken face. Guards stepped forward and supported him as he was escorted out of the hall.

Only then did the king raise his eyes to the gathered court.

“Now,” he said evenly, his voice steady, “this is not the time to panic. We need to think properly.”

A senior general stepped forward, his armor clinking as he bowed. “Your Majesty, this is clearly a demon incursion. We must mobilize all legions at once and strike before—”

“We will,” the king interrupted softly, “but before that, we need to know why the demons are attacking us.”

He paused and let his gaze sweep across the hall.

“Does anyone know the reason?” he asked.

The general froze. He glanced around, but no one met his eyes.

No one answered.

A white-robed scholar stepped forward and bowed. “Your Majesty, demons do not cross realms without reason. Such movement always requires intent, sacrifice, or invitation.”

The king nodded slightly. “Which means this is not a random invasion.”

A noble scoffed nervously and spoke, unable to hold back. “What if this is Ruthiana’s fault? Their king toyed with cults. What if this was part of his plan before dying? Now that Ruthiana has fallen under Arcadia, perhaps the demons have turned their eyes to us.”

The court stirred again.

King Albrecht’s eyes sharpened.

“Careful,” he said coldly. “Blame is useless without proof.”

He rose from his throne, and the entire hall straightened with him. His presence pressed down like invisible weight.

“Ruthiana’s collapse created a vacuum,” he continued. “Power vacuums attract predators. If demons are marching, then someone invited them, knowingly or not.”

A knight commander clenched his fist. “They might not be at fault, but I am sure Ruthiana handled something dangerous.”

Albert raised his hand, stopping him before he could continue.

He understood what that meant.

Arcadia’s expansion into Ruthiana was no small matter. Of all the empires, Arcadia held the smallest territory. For decades, it had eyed Ruthiana and Frontier. Now, with Ruthiana fallen, Frontier stood exposed. This chaos could easily be used as a weapon to swallow.