The Primeval Era

<Across The Lands of Stone, in the Dominion of Crimson Stone>

The War Chamber of the First Crimson Legion occupied the highest floor of a fortress carved from stone saturated with blood across generations.

Crimson crystals lined the walls in patterns that pulsed with inner light, each one connected to networks of power that spanned territories under Dominion control. The air itself felt thick with Mana concentrated to levels that would have crushed ordinary Warriors, atmosphere maintained specifically for beings whose cultivation had transcended normal limits.

At the chamber’s center, a massive map stretched across a table of polished obsidian.

The map was not drawn in ink or painted with pigments. It was alive, terrain features rendered in crystalline formations that shifted and updated as conditions changed across the Lands of Stone. Mountains rose as small peaks of purple crystal. Rivers flowed as threads of blue light. Forests spread as clusters of green that pulsed with the vitality of the regions they represented.

And scattered across this living map were crystals of different sizes and intensities.

Large crimson crystals designated Imperators, their light strong and steady when the Warriors they represented were healthy and active. Thousands of smaller crystals clustered behind them, representing the armies under their command. Each formation told a story of military positioning that the Dominion tracked with obsessive precision.

Kamanda Voss stood before this map with eyes shining with stellar crimson light.

His gaze was fixed on a region of the Threshold Lands where Sir Alex’s army should have been advancing toward Mount Vorrath. The crystals there told a story that made his jaw clench with tension he couldn’t entirely conceal.

The thousands of smaller crystals representing Alex’s forces were shattered and broken.

Fragments of what had been a mighty army lay scattered across the map’s surface like discarded bones, their light extinguished entirely. Where organized formations should have marched, only debris remained. The devastation was so complete that he had initially thought the map itself had malfunctioned.

It hadn’t.

And the larger crystals representing Sir Alex and his Imperators were dim!

Not dark, not yet, but flickering with the weak light of beings hovering at the threshold between life and death. Their signatures barely registering, their flames guttering like candles in a hurricane. Whatever had happened to them, they weren’t dead yet, but they were close enough that the distinction felt academic.

Kamanda Voss’s expression grew heavier with each passing moment.

"Something we cannot understand is happening."

His voice emerged cold, controlled, carrying across the War Chamber to the figures who had answered his summons. Multiple Anointed Ones stood in attendance, their hands grasping crimson staffs that marked them as practitioners of the Dominion’s darker arts. Their robes were elaborate, their cultivation signatures strong, their expressions appropriately grave.

But they weren’t the most notable presence in the room.

An entity stood among them whose form commanded attention through sheer wrongness.

She was voluptuous in ways that seemed designed to distract, curves emphasized by garments that concealed nothing while technically covering everything. Her skin held an unnatural pallor, too smooth, too perfect, belonging to something that wore human appearance like a costume. A large chest rose and fell with breaths that she didn’t actually need, performance rather than necessity.

And from her forehead, a single crimson horn grew.

It curved upward like a blade, its surface etched with patterns that shifted when observed directly. The horn marked her as what she was, what no amount of human appearance could disguise.

A Demon.

Paimon smiled at Kamanda Voss with teeth that were slightly too sharp, too numerous, arranged in rows that suggested mouths meant for tearing rather than chewing.

"Sir Alex and his army have been almost entirely wiped out."

Kamanda Voss gestured toward the map, toward the devastation rendered in broken crystals.

"In a barren region of the Threshold Lands filled with nothing but Dross tribes. No Sacred Mountain defenses. No Covenant fortifications. No forces that should have been capable of challenging a force designed to threaten Noble Beasts themselves."

His stellar crimson eyes burned brighter.

"We need to inform the Murderous Saint about this development. We also need to understand what happened without losing any more forces in the process."

He turned to face Paimon directly.

"The Seeds within Alex and his Imperators are still connected to your people. If they die, those Seeds will bloom and call demons through the established links. Your kind is already seeking answers for how one of your Dukes fell near that same region."

His voice hardened.

"Paimon. You are among the stronger ones placed under my command. I don’t want any more mysterious deaths creating complications we can’t control. Can you disable the Seeds within Alex and the others so that none of your people are called through the connection if they expire? Can you follow up on this situation and report what you find?"

He paused, weighing his next words.

"You can take whomever you need."

...!

Paimon’s smile widened until it stretched beyond what human facial muscles should allow.

"Oh, Dear Kamanda of the First Crimson Legion."

Her voice emerged like honey poured over broken glass, sweet and cutting in equal measure.

"You ask so much of little Paimon. Disable Seeds. Investigate mysteries. Report findings like a good little servant."

She stepped closer to the map, one finger tracing the devastated region with something approaching affection.

"But the Dominion of Crimson Stone hasn’t given Paimon enough souls to eat. These Dross you keep feeding me taste like ash and disappointment. Bland and fucking boring as they can’t even get me wet. Their essences dissolve on my tongue before I can even savor them."

Her crimson eyes flickered with hunger that made several of the Anointed Ones step backward involuntarily.

"The children are a delicacy, I admit. Young souls carry such potential, such unrealized sweetness. But even those have become scarce as your armies sweep through territories that were already picked clean."

She turned back to Kamanda Voss, her horn pulsing with light that matched her growing excitement.

"Does Paimon have free reign to consume the souls of all those tiny humans she comes across? Can she feast properly while conducting this investigation you require? Can she remind herself why she agreed to work with your kind in the first place?"

Her tongue, too long and too dark, traced across her lips.

"Give Paimon permission to hunt, Dear Kamanda. Give her permission to truly eat."

...!