Chapter II

Three deafening impacts shook the wilderness.

Stone, earth, and shattered roots erupted skyward as three enormous craters carved themselves into the scarred landscape. When the dust slowly settled, the craters stood in a perfect triangle.

From each emerged a Demon Lord of House Galan.

Without exchanging a word, the trio strode toward a small detachment of Commoner scouts, men whose sole purpose was to chart the endless wilderness of the Yasei Exotica in search of untouched gold veins.

"Master Hanzo! Over here!"

A broad-shouldered scout waved them toward a recently excavated opening concealed beneath tangled roots and thick undergrowth. Like the rest of his team, he wore layered greens, browns, and blacks that blended seamlessly into the jungle, camouflage necessary for surviving one of Enevol's deadliest frontiers.

Orochi Hanzo acknowledged him with a quiet nod before turning toward the lone woman among the three Demon Lords.

"Hosanna."

His voice remained composed.

"Verify their discovery."

She bowed slightly.

"At once."

Hosanna Sun followed the scout into the narrow tunnel.

Even among Demon Lords, she possessed a commanding elegance. Long silver hair flowed down her back, gleaming beneath the perpetual crimson sky, while piercing pastel-blue eyes surveyed everything with practiced caution. Though she had served as a Demon Lord for decades, she remained nearly thirty years younger than Hanzo—a difference that carried undeniable weight among beings whose strength was measured not merely by talent, but by experience.

Nearly ten minutes passed before Hosanna emerged once more.

"It is genuine."

Hanzo required nothing more.

He pressed two fingers lightly against his ear.

"This is Demon Lord Orochi Hanzo."

"I require Administrator William."

A brief silence answered.

"Hanzo speaking."

"The scouts' report has been confirmed."

"The vein is authentic."

"Request immediate authorization for full Commoner excavation supported by sentry divisions."

His expression tightened.

"There must be no unnecessary haste."

"I suspect House Erembaur may alre—"

Three violent impacts interrupted him.

The earth convulsed.

Fresh clouds of dust exploded into the air as three new craters appeared scarcely a hundred meters away.

The scouts required no orders.

They fled.

Every seasoned scout understood the unspoken law of Demon Lord warfare.

When six Demon Lords occupied the same battlefield...

Commoners died first.

Hanzo calmly shifted his gaze toward the towering figure beside him.

"Archibald."

The youngest of House Galan's veterans stepped forward.

At six feet six inches, Archibald's towering physique contrasted strangely with his youthful face. Honey-brown eyes and long golden ringlets gave him the appearance of an innocent young man rather than a warrior who possessed enough destructive power to level cities.

"Begin your meditation."

"Remain focused."

"You will be our first line."

Archibald silently nodded.

The jungle fell eerily still.

The three Demon Lords gently pressed their palms together.

Their breathing slowed.

The wind itself seemed to pause.

Then...

Hosanna's eyes snapped open.

"Now!"

"ARCHIBALD!"

Archibald instantly thrust both palms against the earth.

"Abstract Style..."

"...Sanctify."

Five colossal walls of blazing orange fire erupted from the ground around the trio, each adorned with intricate black flames that resembled sacred calligraphy runes. The barriers formed a layered fortress, buying Hanzo precious seconds to analyze his unseen enemies.

He opened his mouth to issue his next command.

A woman's voice interrupted him.

Elegant.

Seductive.

Haunting.

"Abstract Style..."

"...Horn of Ragnarok."

The words drifted from somewhere beyond the burning walls.

Then came the sound.

Not an explosion.

Not a scream.

A single horn.

Deep.

Majestic.

It resonated like the world itself had opened its jaws and released one impossibly long note.

The air ignited.

The horns sound,

Creating intense heat.

Archibald's flaming walls immediately began to weaken beneath the relentless scorching heat.

He reacted without hesitation.

"Abstract Style..."

"...Sanctira."

Three immense curved shields erupted around the trio before seamlessly merging into a massive dome of infernal fire.

Outside, the terrible song continued.

Above the dome, Hosanna narrowed her eyes.

"I've found her."

"She's powerful."

Hanzo looked upward.

Hovering high above them floated a young woman whose skin resembled polished dark walnut.

Long golden curls danced around her as crimson flames burst rhythmically from her black boots, keeping her suspended in the sky.

In her grasp rested an enormous buisine trumpet forged entirely from black-and-red hellfire.

Her short satin layered petticoat and military coat mirrored House Erembaur's royal colors of blue, white, and gold.

Hanzo frowned.

"His replacement..."

Recognition dawned.

"Thomas..."

A casualty of war,

Courtesy of Hosanna Sun eighteen years prior.

"So this is the Demon Lord who succeeded him."

His eyes narrowed with interest.

"For only three years as a Demon Lord..."

"...her pressure is extraordinary."

Below them, Archibald remained seated inside his barrier.

His hands repeatedly drew inward toward his shoulders before gently pulling away, repeating the same prayer-like movement over and over as his flames steadily intensified.

Hosanna recognized the ritual.

He was preparing something greater.

Hanzo's gaze suddenly shifted.

"Hosanna."

He gave a slight nod toward a burning Mattamuskeet pine.

"There."

She followed his eyes.

Two familiar figures calmly observed the battlefield.

Amir.

And Roxanne Roseburn.

Amir sat casually upon the scorched trunk of the massive tree, his crimson eyes gleaming with excitement. Handsome and composed, his short black hair barely moved despite the surrounding inferno.

Perched atop another towering tree stood Roxanne Roseburn.

Black hair streaked with charcoal-gray cascaded behind her.

Smoke continuously rolled from her burning eyes, making her resemble a goddess born from hellfire itself.

She laughed.

A soft, patronizing laugh.

"Her name..."

"...is Shula."

Roxanne's smile widened.

"And believe me..."

"She has already surpassed Thomas."

As if answering her words, Shula slowly raised the fiery trumpet above her head.

"Special Style..."

"...Resonating Hammer."

Hanzo and Hosanna froze.

Shock crossed both their faces.

"Hanzo!"

"They’ve awakened an S-Style!"

The trumpet began to change.

The bell widened.

The instrument twisted.

Fire condensed.

Moments later, the elegant trumpet had transformed into a colossal warhammer forged from black infernal flame speckled with glowing crimson embers.

"Archibald!"

Hanzo shouted.

"Tier Three Defens—"

Too late.

Shula's hammer descended.

The impact distorted space itself.

Archibald's dome shattered like stained glass.

The explosion had barely settled before Amir appeared.

"Melee Style..."

"...Heavy Gauntlet!"

His right fist became encased in a massive construct of black-and-orange flame adorned with red spikes.

The punch struck Archibald squarely across the face.

The young Demon Lord became a blur before crashing through the jungle with catastrophic force.

Hosanna refused to hesitate.

"Abstract Style..."

"...Inferno's Winter."

She spread her arms toward the crimson sky.

Instantly the tropical air turned bitterly cold.

Every living creature fled.

Dark crimson fireflakes began drifting from the sky.

Each fireflake scorched the earth upon landing.

Within seconds some began to expand and grow immensely.

Hosanna danced gracefully between the falling flames, catching each burning fragment before hurling them toward Amir with impossible precision.

Amir summoned a second Heavy Gauntlet.

One for each hand.

He met her assault head-on.

When his superior speed threatened to overwhelm her, Hosanna calmly withdrew.

She entered another prayer.

One fist extended.

Paused.

Relaxed.

Repeated.

Again.

Again.

Again.

The flames around her intensified.

A single colossal all black fireflake materialized before launching toward Amir.

He braced confidently.

Then frowned.

Hosanna wasn't watching her attack.

She was praying again.

Her left index finger extended.

Her right fist gently tapped against it over and over.

Amir's instincts screamed.

Something was wrong.

The fireflake had reached him.

He expanded both gauntlets into a blazing shield.

The attack struck.

Nothing.

The fireflake dissolved into hollow flame.

His balance vanished.

He stumbled forward.

In that instant...

Hosanna looked directly into his eyes.

Then lowered her gaze.

Then looked back again.

Amir instinctively followed her eyes downward.

The moment he looked back—

His speech became meaningless gibberish.

Confusion filled his face.

His body slid apart.

Unevenly.

A second all black fireflake had dissected him without notice.

His molten insides spilled from within him like volcanic magma.

The jungle became silent.

Even Shula had stopped to witness.

Roxanne merely smiled.

Archibald, now recovered, rejoined Hanzo.

"Hanzo..."

Hosanna asked quietly.

"Why haven't they helped?"

Hanzo frowned.

"I don't know."

"But one thing is certain."

"They're not surprised you've evolved your Abstract Style."

His eyes never left Roxanne.

"Archibald."

"Do not meet her gaze."

"Her Abstract Style manipulates perception."

"If she reaches your mind..."

"...the battle could be over."

"Keep your barriers fixed solely upon her."

"Hosanna and I will deal with the S-Style."

Before another strategy could be spoken—

A voice whispered directly behind them.

"Too slow."

Every Demon Lord turned.

Roxanne stood only a few steps away.

Impossible.

Archibald immediately shifted to intercept while Hanzo and Hosanna kept Shula within their sight.

Roxanne calmly entered an unfamiliar prayer.

Four fingers extended.

Thumb hidden.

Her opposite palm repeatedly struck against them in slow, deliberate rhythm.

Then she whispered.

"Abstract Style..."

"...Dante's Inverted Tower."

The words echoed across every Demon Lord mind.

Reality folded.

The jungle vanished.

Hanzo, Hosanna, and Archibald found themselves standing inside an impossible structure dominated by an immense spiral staircase descending endlessly into darkness.

Roxanne's laughter echoed through every wall.

"Welcome..."

"...to the lobby of the tower."

"Below you await nine descending floors."

"Each one more merciless than the last."

"Every level houses beasts born of exotic flame."

"And every floor exists solely to delay your descent."

She smiled.

"I shall be waiting on the Ninth Floor."

"If you reach me within one hour..."

"My technique releases."

"And we may continue our war with whatever strength remains."

She raised a single finger.

"I am generous."

"You have a ten minute window."

Her smile became almost predatory.

"After that..."

"...Shula begins her hunt."