The Primeval Era

Damian released the Mana binding Sir Alex’s mouth.

The golden restraints around his jaw dissolved, allowing the traitor to finally draw breath without obstruction. Ragged gasps filled the cavern as Sir Alex’s chest heaved, his ruined body struggling to remember how to function after all this torment.

Damian stood before him with calm patience.

His wing-shaped pupils burned with blue-gold flames as he observed the broken figure suspended before him. No expression crossed his features. No hint of satisfaction or disgust or anything else that might suggest he was affected by what he had done. He simply waited, imperial and cold, for the words he had purchased with blood and agony.

Sir Alex’s star-filled eyes met his.

The nine-pointed pupils still glowed, but weakly now, their multicolored luster dimmed by pain that transcended physical damage. His body shook with tremors he couldn’t control, muscles spasming around wounds that would have killed anyone without his level of cultivation. When he opened his mouth to speak, blood dripped from lips that had been bitten through during the hours of silence.

"That day..."

His voice emerged as a broken rasp, barely recognizable as the heavy and commanding tone that had ordered Damian’s capture.

"The Murderous Saint paid a heavy cost to take down Emperor Vakochev."

He coughed, and more blood spattered the crystalline floor below.

"We thought we understood his power. We had studied him for years, had mapped his cultivation, had cataloged his techniques. We knew about the Basmu Sovereign Physique and how devastating it could be when unleashed. We prepared countermeasures. We gathered forces. We believed ourselves ready."

A bitter laugh escaped his ruined throat.

"We were fools."

His eyes grew distant, remembering horrors that still haunted him.

"When the attack began, Emperor Vakochev transformed immediately. The serpent with the horned crown, the forelegs, the wings that blocked out the stars. His venom corroded cultivation itself, and three of the strongest Twelve Royal Captains died in the first minute. Three! I was the weakest! Warriors who had served for decades, whose power exceeded most Imperators, reduced to nothing in heartbeats before the poison finished them entirely."

Sir Alex’s body shuddered.

"The Murderous Saint engaged him directly while the rest of us dealt with the palace guards and the lesser threats. The battle between them lasted for hours. Hours! The capital itself was being destroyed around them, buildings collapsing, streets turning to rubble, thousands dying simply from the shockwaves of their exchange."

His voice dropped lower.

"And then the Empress appeared."

...!

Something shifted in his expression.

"We... had not truly accounted for her."

The words emerged with the weight of confession.

"She was known as a scholar. A healer. A gentle soul who preferred libraries to battlefields."

He laughed again, and this time there was madness in it.

"She was not. She was not!"

His star-filled eyes fixed on Damian with intensity that cut through the pain.

"When she entered the battle, she revealed power that rivaled Emperor Vakochev himself. Rivaled! A Land and Sky Physique we had never seen her manifest, light and shadow woven together in forms that defied everything we understood. She fought alongside her husband as an equal, not as support. The two of them together..."

He trailed off, remembering.

"All the plans the Murderous Saint had made nearly failed in that moment. We were being pushed back. The Royal Captains who remained were falling one by one. Even the Murderous Saint himself was being overwhelmed by their combined assault."

His voice hardened.

"So he called upon our allies."

The word allies dripped with significance that made the crystalline walls seem to darken.

"The 7th Marquis Aamon answered first."

Sir Alex’s burned flesh twitched at the name.

"A demon of fire and destruction whose power exceeded anything in the mortal Lands of Stone. His arrival turned the tide immediately, flames that burned through even the Basmu Sovereign’s defenses, heat that made Emperor Vakochev’s venom evaporate before it could land."

His eyes closed briefly.

"And then the 3rd Prince Vassago emerged."

...!

"A demon of prophecy and revelation, whose gaze could pierce any secret and whose power could unravel any technique. He saw through every strategy Emperor and Empress Vakochev attempted. He predicted their movements before they made them. He turned their coordination into chaos by always being where they least expected."

Sir Alex’s voice fell to barely a whisper.

"It was only because of those high-ranking demons that Emperor and Empress Vakochev were defeated. Only because of them. Two of the most powerful beings in all the Lands of Stone, brought low by forces from beyond the River of the World."

Silence fell across the cavern.

Damian stood perfectly still, his face betraying nothing of the storm raging within. His hands remained at his sides. His breathing remained steady. His wing-shaped pupils burned with the same cold fire they had held throughout the interrogation.

But inside, he was screaming.

His father had been so powerful that demons were required to defeat him. His mother had hidden depths that even their enemies hadn’t anticipated!

They had fought together as equals, had nearly won against forces that should have been overwhelming.

And they had still fallen.

"Is that all?"

His voice emerged flat, controlled, deadly.

"If I don’t hear anything decent from you, I don’t really see the point of keeping you alive."

...!

Desperation flooded Sir Alex’s features.

The threat cut through whatever composure he had retained, the promise of death after everything he had already endured proving more terrifying than the pain itself. His mouth worked silently for a moment, searching for something, anything that might purchase continued existence.

Then his expression shifted.

Hesitation and calculation. And beneath both, fear of a different kind.

"There is... something else."

His voice emerged slowly, each word dragged out against obvious reluctance.

"Something I heard from the 29th Duke Astaroth."

Damian’s eyes narrowed slightly.

"On that day, Emperor Vakochev was killed outright."

Sir Alex’s ruined body trembled.

"He was too powerful to capture, too dangerous to leave alive in any form. The demons consumed him entirely, flesh and soul alike, ensuring that nothing would remain to threaten them."

A pause stretched across the cavern.

"But the Empress..."

...!

"The Empress was too unique."

Sir Alex’s star-filled eyes fixed on Damian with something approaching pity.

"Her soul was not consumed. It was instead captured and taken to be studied in the Lands of Demons."

BOOM!

The words hung in the blue-lit air like physical things.

"The Madam. Empress Vakochev."

His voice dropped to barely a whisper.

"Her soul still remains burning in the hands of Demons this whole time."

...!

Oh.

Oh!

The cold composure that had sustained Damian through hours of interrogation shattered.

His hands moved before conscious thought could intervene, grasping Sir Alex’s throat with strength that exceeded anything his power should have permitted. He squeezed, fingers digging into burned flesh, cutting off the air that had just been restored.

"YOU LIE!"

The roar erupted from both his bodies simultaneously, his beast form behind him adding depth to fury that could no longer be contained. The cavern shook with the force of his voice. Crystalline formations cracked along walls! The golden chains binding Sir Alex pulsed with heat that threatened to incinerate what remained of him.

But Sir Alex spat out words even as he choked.

"Her... soul..."

His star-filled eyes bulged.

"Is in... the Lands... of Demons!"

...!