The Broken Halo

Ironcrest Watchtower groaned beneath the weight of its own destruction.

Alarms continued ringing through its upper floors, although no one remained in the command chamber and none remained inside the tower to answer them. Smoke travelled through broken weapon ports and fractured corridors. Somewhere below, the formation engine released an uneven pulse that made the dark metal inside the walls tremble.

Fragments of the destroyed divine shell still drifted around the summit, catching the sunlight before fading like silver ash. Sections of the tower had gone silent after Sunshear’s destruction, while others continued firing blindly at demons outside.

The canons that were still functional were acting autonomously, and the very few humans that were left alive had not yet realised that the voice commanding Ironcrest was already dead.

Outside, the humans that still lived shouted orders that no longer came from their commander.

Inside the command chamber, there was only blood.

Bodies covered the floor around the ruined command table. Severed heads rested beneath chairs, beside shattered artifacts, and near the armoured door Simon had cut apart. Commander Sorin Varga’s head had stopped several metres from his body, his final expression still carrying traces of fear, shock, and disbelief.

Simon stood among the dead and released a deep breath.

Then he raised his head and stared at the ceiling.

Order runes moved weakly between the cracks above him. Some continued performing their functions, unaware that the humans who controlled them were gone. Others flickered, failed, and disappeared one after another.

The anger that had risen when Simon recognised the Radiant Judge’s divinity had mostly dissipated.

So had the killing intent.

What remained was coldness.

Calculation.

And beneath both was a small trace of sadness.

Not for Varga.

Not for the humans covering the chamber.

The sadness came from how his return to Earth was unfolding.

He had crossed the rift as a demon, destroyed a weapon designed by people he once trusted, and discovered that at least one of the six who betrayed him was doing well after his death.

Simon had never forgotten his revenge.

Death had not erased it. Reincarnation had not weakened it, and the years he spent surviving in the Demon Realm had not made the betrayal easier to accept or forget.

He simply had too many other matters demanding his attention.

Revenge was not his current goal.

His goal remained the same as when he entered this campaign.

Evolve his bloodline.

Become stronger.

Everything else had to wait.

Those who betrayed him were most likely Demi-Gods by now, assuming they were all still alive. Hopefully, none of them had crossed the final boundary and become true gods.

Simon was powerful for an Archfiend, but that did not change what he was.

An Infernal Heart could not challenge beings standing at the peak of humanity. Even if his body could temporarily display the physical capabilities of an average Minor Demon Lord, that was nowhere near enough.

Trying to take revenge now would not be courage.

It would be suicide.

However, waiting did not mean remaining idle.

The Radiant Judge’s divinity had given Simon his first thread.

He could begin learning what had happened after his death. Which of his former companions still lived. What titles they carried. Where they stood within humanity. How powerful they had become. What they had done after his death? How do humans in general view them now?

He would gather each answer quietly and separately, without allowing any of them to realise that the dead man they betrayed was searching for them.

And when he possessed enough strength, he would already know where to place the blade.

Simon’s eyes became colder.

He could have asked Varga whether the Radiant Judge was still a Demi-God or had become a god.

He had deliberately chosen not to.

It would have been strange for Simon to recognise the owner of an extremely diluted trace of divinity, know their title, and even know Sunshear’s name, yet remain ignorant of whether that same being had reached godhood.

Varga was already suspicious enough.

Asking that question might have revealed more than it answered.

There would be other ways to learn.

The invasion had only begun and multiple paths lay before Simon.

Simon lowered his gaze from the ceiling, and he saw shadows shifting beyond the ruined entrance.

He had sensed them before their footsteps reached the outer corridor. Sonya’s small shadow moved at the front. Akaza followed with an uneven step caused by his injuries. Behind them came Virella, Rellis, Captain Veyran, Osra, Drevik, and Namis.

A few moments later, they entered the command chamber.

Sonya stopped first.

Her blind eyes moved across the room as the vibrations beneath her feet revealed fallen bodies, scattered heads, broken furniture, and blood dripping from the command table.

She whistled.

”Looks like you had fun.”

Simon merely shook his head and decided not to speak.

Akaza stepped around the lower half of the severed door and glanced at the corpses.

”He did not.”

Sonya turned toward him.

”How do you know?”

”He looks pissed and solemn.”

”Really? I can’t see his face, so I don’t know.”

”For once you’re actually acting like you’re blind.”

Sonya’s lips could not help but twitch at Akaza’s words.

Virella entered behind them and froze.

Her face paled as she looked at the seventeen headless bodies and Mirela’s corpse near the ruined control frame.

Rellis stopped beside her.

”I am beginning to understand why every human in the corridor was running in the opposite direction.”

”They were not all running,” Akaza said.

”The intelligent ones were.”

Captain Veyran ignored them and studied the chamber instead. His gaze moved across the shattered observation mirror, the broken command table, and Varga’s armoured corpse.

”I know him. We were given information on him. He was Ironcrest’s commander.”

”Yes,” Simon said with a slight nod.

”And the others?”

”Unimportant.”

Veyran looked at him for a moment, then wisely decided not to ask anything else.

Simon raised the Chaos Blade.

Blood remained along its black edge.

A faint current of wind passed over the weapon and carried every drop away. Simon then willed it back into the space within his Demon Heart.

The Chaos Blade vanished from his hand.

He turned toward the four Runemasters.

”Veyran. Osra. Drevik. Namis.”

All four straightened.

”You reached Ironcrest,” Simon said. ”Now do what you came here to do. Take the Chaos Bellows to the four formation pillars, activate them, and connect this position to the large-scale array.”

His gaze passed over their sealed cases.

”The tower has lost its commander, but some of its soldiers and formations are still active. Do not mistake this silence for safety.”

The four Runemasters glanced toward the corridor behind them, where distant footsteps and shouted orders continued echoing through Ironcrest.

”Do not waste time,” Simon added.

Captain Veyran gave a sharp nod.

”Understood.”

He turned toward the ruined entrance, and the other three Runemasters moved with him toward their assigned destinations.