PROLOGUE — THE NIGHT THE ABYSS AWOKE

  [???].

  That is the name they scream—my allies, my enemies, even the sky that splits apart like shattering glass as the 37 ancient demon lords awaken from their millennia-long seal.

  The world should have ended the moment the supreme ancient demon lord stirred.

  The ground should have cracked.

  The heavens should have burned.

  But instead…

  We were forced to stand before them.

  Seventeen-year-old students.

  Young. Unprepared. Terrified.

  Yet here we were—thrown into a battlefield where even gods would hesitate to breathe.

  ---

  The Abyss Opens

  Night collapses into itself. Stars turn into spirals.

  The atmosphere warps until horizons bend and gravity twists like a demon’s grin.

  Then—

  A pulse.

  A crack.

  A scream that is not a sound but a concept breaking.

  The seals rupture.

  And from the rift descends the Hierarchy of the Abyssal Pantheon—the beings whose names were forbidden, whose existence reshaped civilizations, whose shadows alone once reduced kingdoms to dust.

  But not all of them awaken.

  The Supreme Demon Goddess—Lucifera Noctyss Astaroth, the Monarch of the Infinite Abyss—remains sealed, her throne silent.

  Only thirty-seven of her ancient underlings return to existence.

  Twenty-three of them step toward me.

  Fourteen descend upon my friends.

  The air becomes heavier than mountains. My lungs feel like they’re breathing molten stars. But I stand my ground.

  Even if the world trembles.

  Even if reality screams.

  Even if the moon shatters behind me.

  ---

  The Queens and Kings of the Abyss Arrive

  First, the sky bleeds crimson.

  A shadow with eyes like dying suns floats above.

  A woman draped in scarlet fire, her presence intoxicating and suffocating.

  Velzaria Akeneth — The Scarlet Queen of Desire.

  Her every breath twists emotion itself.

  Next comes the chilling whisper of winter’s hatred.

  Frost forms in midair, sculpting thrones made of frozen galaxies.

  Nyara Esdeathra — The Frost Sovereign of Cruelty.

  Her aura alone feels like blades made of regret.

  Time fractures as another descends.

  Clock hands spin backward and forward simultaneously.

  Mira Satellae — The Witch of Twisted Eternities.

  She watches me as though she has already killed me across a thousand timelines.

  Scarlet pride follows, elegant yet lethal.

  Selene Riastra — The Crimson Duchess of Pride.

  A noble demoness whose gaze judges everything beneath her.

  High Matrons descend like stars plummeting.

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  Lilith Seraphyne, twisting despair and seduction.

  Yuria Tokisai, dreaming through time.

  Velmina Artoria, divine corruption incarnate.

  Erina Mikalos, blade of absolute order.

  Celine Megumara, explosions crackling around her like newborn suns.

  Lunaria Yukinome, who moves like moonlight’s whisper.

  Seraphina Meroze, singing a melody that unravels sanity.

  Nerissa Himeko, rebellion aflame.

  Then the Kings of the Abyss stride forth—

  Valder Ainzreth, immortal death.

  Lucien Madarix, stained in war’s glory.

  Amon Goetzaar, the void’s avatar.

  Khaos Zerefian, cursed eternity.

  Tyrion Lelouge, ruler of minds.

  Rael Dracul, sovereign of the night.

  Kuroshiro Akuma, illusionary hellfire.

  Ragnar D. Lior, devourer of power.

  Zayden Escanoros, blazing arrogance.

  Ryeus Enderion, forged from duality.

  Magnus Astarion, scholar of forbidden truths.

  Kael Dragneir, dragon of annihilation.

  Drayven Zoldik, lightning’s silent blade.

  And last—

  A queen steps through a mirror that reflects not the world… but your soul.

  Her presence is calm, terrifying in its purity.

  Grémoria Elthesia — The Honest Queen of the Abyssal Mirror.

  Her eyes see every fear I ever had.

  Every lie I ever told.

  Every truth I refused to face.

  Twenty-three demon lords and queens.

  Against…

  Me.

  ---

  My Allies Enter the Battlefield

  Behind me stands a group of teenagers—my classmates, my comrades, my only shield against this impossible nightmare.

  They are unnamed, but their presence is unmistakable.

  One boy with silver hair that glows like moon-forged steel raises a spear enveloped in wind that howls like a dragon. His movements cut the air into spiraling currents.

  Next to him, a girl with raven-black hair tied in a short braid steps forward, her eyes burning with azure mystic symbols. She conjures spells so dense they warp the dust around her like miniature galaxies.

  Another student—a broad-shouldered boy with a stoic gaze—plants his feet deeply into the cracked ground. Earth surges around him, forming colossal fists of stone that punch upward, holding back the descending demon onslaught.

  A girl with short golden hair leaps into the air with twin daggers. She moves so fast she leaves golden afterimages; the daggers hum with anti-demonic runes.

  One boy covered in faint scars, his posture steady like a veteran, loads a massive crossbow of glowing light. He fires bolts that tear open temporary gaps in the spatial distortions created by the demon lords.

  Another girl, gentle-faced but fierce-hearted, presses her palms together. A radiant barrier erupts from her hands, shielding her team from a wave of demonic fire.

  All seventeen, all young, all facing the impossible.

  Fourteen demon lords and queens descend upon them like a storm of despair.

  ---

  The Battlefield Becomes a Universe of Violence

  The air itself becomes a weapon.

  Lightning breaks into shapes.

  Wind roars like beasts.

  Time loops and folds.

  Shadows stretch into blades.

  Every step we take reshapes the battlefield.

  Every breath is a battle.

  Every heartbeat is defiance.

  Around me, the twenty-three ancient demons watch with amusement, curiosity, or hunger.

  Velzaria Akeneth smirks.

  “You dare stand alone before us, child?”

  Her voice melts reality into crimson petals.

  Nyara Esdeathra raises a hand.

  “Let him try. Broken hope is the most beautiful frost.”

  Mira Satellae tilts her head, eyes flickering through countless timelines.

  “In nine thousand futures, you die. In one… you kill us. I wonder which this is.”

  Selene Riastra simply scoffs.

  “Arrogant mortal. Try to entertain me.”

  The kings are less talkative.

  Lucien Madarix cracks his knuckles, a battlefield manifesting behind him.

  Amon Goetzaar silently dissolves into shadows.

  Ragnar D. Lior’s grin splits the air.

  Grémoria alone watches quietly, mirror reflecting my stance.

  “You carry truth you refuse to face,” she says softly.

  “Show me.”

  ---

  The First Clash

  The ground erupts as Lucien Madarix, the Crimson God of War, rushes forward.

  His battle lust is so intense it physically distorts space.

  Before he can strike, I move.

  My blade surfaces in my hand like a piece of the night itself.

  Our weapons collide—

  And the world splits.

  A crater forms beneath us.

  Shockwaves rip the sky apart.

  My arms burn. My bones shake.

  I slide back several meters, boots scraping the shattered earth.

  Lucien grins.

  “Good. You are worth killing.”

  But another presence cuts in—

  A wave of cold that freezes the battlefield mid-motion.

  Nyara Esdeathra steps forward, frost spilling from her fingertips.

  She does not attack.

  She simply breathes—

  —and glaciers explode outward, covering kilometers in seconds.

  I slice through the frost, heat flaring from my core.

  Nyara’s smile widens a fraction.

  “Fight me, mortal. Let me see your hatred.”

  But I cannot focus on just her.

  Because Celine Megumara raises a finger.

  Her voice is a whisper:

  “Boom.”

  A sphere of arcane chaos ignites beside me—

  Bright as a newborn star.

  I throw myself aside—

  But the explosion still grazes my shoulder, tearing apart half the landscape.

  The shockwave launches two of my allies into the sky, their silhouettes spinning like broken comets.

  The girl with the golden hair catches them mid-air, daggers glowing as she redirects the blast.

  The silver-haired spear-user leaps onto a cyclone and charges one of the demon kings.

  ---

  The World Crumbles Around Us

  This isn’t a battle.

  It’s the end of the world wearing a crown.

  Tyrion Lelouge, the Mind Emperor, tries to seize control of my thoughts.

  My vision fractures into screens of alternative realities.

  I bite my tongue—taste iron—and ground myself.

  Rael Dracul appears behind me, his vampiric fangs inches from my neck.

  I twist, parry, and kick him away.

  Kuroshiro Akuma engulfs the field with black flames and illusions.

  Kael Dragneir roars, his dragon soul shaking the air.

  Every moment is madness.

  A screaming melody infiltrates my ears—

  Seraphina Meroze’s cursed song.

  My heart wavers.

  My stance falters.

  My thoughts scatter.

  Until—

  A beam of radiant energy shoots past me, dispelling the sonic curse.

  One of my classmates—the soft-spoken one—stands firm, hands trembling but refusing to lower her light-forged shield.

  Her barrier glows brighter, pushing back demonic corruption like dawn pushing night.

  “Go…” she whispers through clenched teeth. “We can hold them… just go…”

  Her voice cracks, but her resolve does not.

  ---

  I Push Forward

  If I take even one step back—

  We all die.

  So I charge.

  Straight toward the center of the abyssal army.

  Lucien lunges.

  Nyara smirks.

  Grémoria watches.

  Mira shifts through timelines.

  Velzaria’s gaze burns through me.

  And I run.

  The ground beneath me shatters, cracks glowing with violet energy as I accelerate.

  I leap—

  Only to be met by Ryeus Enderion, whose dual blades sing in perfect harmony.

  He intercepts me mid-air.

  Our weapons spark.

  He forces me down.

  I hit the ground hard enough to crater it.

  Pain lances up my spine.

  But I stand again.

  Ryeus chuckles.

  “You are not even breathing properly.”

  Another demon appears behind me.

  Drayven Zoldik, silent as lightning.

  A blade of thunder touches my shoulder—

  And only instinct saves me as I duck under the lethal flash.

  Still—

  The shockwave blows me across the battlefield.

  I roll, skid, crash through fractured stone, and stop just short of a bottomless abyss.

  I stand again.

  Bleeding.

  Breath ragged.

  Vision blurry.

  But standing.

  Always standing.

  Behind me, my classmates continue to fight, each holding off demon lords with desperate resolve.

  The spear-wielder is locked against a brute whose strength bends mountains.

  The raven-haired mage is drawing sigils so large they are visible from space.

  The dagger-user jumps between titanic strikes like a streak of gold.

  The barrier-girl shields everyone with divine force.

  The stoic earth-user fights through shattered ground, building walls even as they crumble.

  Every one of them is still fighting.

  Still resisting.

  Still choosing hope in the face of annihilation.

  ---

  The Abyss Laughs

  Velzaria steps forward.

  She lifts my chin with a finger colder than roses soaked in moonlight.

  Her voice drips with cruel affection.

  “You are beautiful in your defiance. Humans break so wonderfully.”

  Nyara’s frost creeps toward my feet.

  Mira twirls a lock of hair, watching infinite timelines collapse.

  Lucien readies another clash.

  Ragnar’s devouring aura crackles.

  Zayden’s solar pride radiates scorching heat.

  Grémoria’s mirror reflects a broken version of me that I refuse to acknowledge.

  Twenty-three ancient beings surround me.

  The abyss closes.

  And still—

  I raise my weapon.

  Breathing once.

  Steady.

  “I’m not dying here,” I whisper.

  Nyara tilts her head.

  “Oh? Then show me how you live.”

  ---

  The Prologue Ends Here

  The battlefield swallows everything—

  Light, shadow, hope, despair.

  A storm of flames, frost, time, void, and pride crashes down upon me.

  My allies scream my name—

  [???]!!

  The demon lords strike.

  We strike back.

  And the world splits apart—

  But the battle does not end.

  This is only the opening moment.

  The first heartbeat in a war older than creation.

  A conflict where children stand against ancient nightmares.

  And this—

  This is where our story begins.