Thunder cracked over the barren outlands as dark clouds swirled unnaturally above. The makeshift war camp, a jagged fortress of obsidian and bone, pulsed with malevolent energy. Inside its shadowed command tent, lit by flickering violet flame, Seraphion and Malgareth stood over a sprawling map of the temple's defenses runes, guard rotations, shield layers, all marked and accounted for. Their faces, usually disdainful toward one another, now bore grim purpose.
"We've stretched them thin," Seraphion said, his voice like steel scraping silk. "Their shifts have grown longer. Their spells falter quicker. They're running out of time and magic."
Malgareth nodded, his cracked horns casting twin shadows across the war map. "They expect another skirmish. Something to keep them awake and bleeding. So let's give them what they expect then what they don't."
The tent flaps blew open violently as two glowing figures entered: one swathed in dark mist, the other radiating fervent heat. Icelus, god of nightmares, drifted inside like a dream bleeding into the waking world. Zelus, god of rivalry, stomped in beside him, his golden armor gleaming with impatient pride.
"You've yet to break their lines," Zelus said with an insolent smirk. "How quaint."
Icelus chuckled as shadows curled around his shoulders. "A shrine defended by sleep-deprived mortals. Is this truly beyond your grasp?"
The generals remained still. Then Seraphion straightened. "You're here as muscle. Try not to mistake it for command."
Malgareth grinned, flashing rows of daggered teeth. "We've held them longer than anyone expected. We don't need the gods of tantrums and nightmares questioning our methods."
For a heartbeat, Icelus's form shimmered into something horrifying tall, faceless, and crowned in screams but Seraphion raised a hand, unimpressed. "Save the theatrics. You'll get your fun soon."
Zelus folded his arms, his arrogance undeterred. "Then tell us the plan."
Malgareth stabbed a claw at the map. "We begin with a feint. Just enough to convince them it's another minor push. A few squads here—" he pointed to the eastern rise—"and here." The south cliffs.
Seraphion continued. "When they peel back their front to rotate in reserves, that's when we unleash the full assault. No signal. No warning. We send groups to collapse the outer entrances simultaneously. Their fallback routes gone, their defenses divided. Then you two—" he looked to the gods "lead the central charge."
Zelus raised a brow. "Collapse the entrances? Even the shrine's protections won't allow that."
"They will," Seraphion said, a glint in her eye.
Icelus narrowed his eyes. "How?"
Malgareth just smiled, fangs catching the dim light. "Wait and see."
Silence fell over the tent. The plan was set. Outside, the legions of demons and angels stirred in anticipation, weapons being sharpened, only matched by their thirst for victory. Night thickened over the cursed valley.
And in its heart, two forgotten gods smiled with bloodlust.
***
The mountaintop shrine glowed faintly beneath layers of reinforced enchantments. Its defenses had held through weeks of sporadic assaults, but the humans and magical folk within were exhausted. Tents lined the inner courtyards. Healers ran short on salves. Wards frayed at the edges. And yet, they endured.
At the highest balcony overlooking the slopes below, Lord Kazuki stood with his arms folded behind his back, his robes stirring gently in the crisp mountain wind. He wore a circlet of carved jade, and a ceremonial sash of navy and white marked him as commander of the defense. Beside him, a pair of American war mages argued quietly over artillery positioning. Further along the line stood a weathered French conjurer, a South African barrier-specialist, and warriors from Tibet.
"Shift those bombardment teams west," Kazuki said, eyes locked on the horizon. "If they come again, it will be from that side."
The others followed his gaze. The valley below was quiet, too quiet. A slight shimmer hung in the air residual heat from the last wave of fireballs. The ground still bore scorch marks and craters, some shallow, some so deep they'd swallowed scouts whole.
Then a sharp cry rang out.
"Contact! South flank movement!"
A ripple moved through the valley like a shiver. Figures emerged from the haze—dozens at first, then hundreds angels with wings of tarnished silver, demons cloaked in smoke and jagged bone. The commanders around Kazuki snapped to alert, barking orders in multiple languages.
"Shields up!"
"Teams Gamma and Theta, rotate forward don't let them get close!"
"Anchor those lines—reinforce the edge runes!"
The enemies came fast and hard. It was brutal, coordinated. But not overwhelming. Kazuki narrowed his eyes as the frontline forces held their ground. Something about the pace controlled, almost too measured.
"They want us to think this is another test," he muttered.
And then, as if on cue, the attackers began to retreat. First slowly, then more deliberately. A few demons even dragged false wounded back behind the cover of broken stone and flickering shadow. The enemy's line unraveled.
A relieved cheer broke out along the eastern barricades. A few younger witches lowered their wands slightly.
"They're pulling back," one American commander said. "Maybe they finally—"
"No," Kazuki snapped. His voice cut through the wind like a blade. "Hold your line."
But it was already too late.
From the southern pass, a boom thundered so loud the very rocks beneath the shrine trembled. Then light. Blinding. Two shapes burst into view from behind a jagged ridge, moving faster than anything natural.
Icelus and Zelus.
The gods of nightmare and rivalry hit the field like a storm given form. Icelus glided like a reaper, shrouded in black mist that twisted into tendrils and shrieking faces. Zelus sprinted beside him, each stride shaking the ground, every bound covering hundreds of meters in a blink. His armor shone like a second sun, rage etched into his face.
"Gods…" someone whispered.
The demon and angel legions poured out behind them like a flood. The retreat had only been bait.
Kazuki was already in motion, robes swirling as he drew his wand and blade in one motion.
"Defensive grid three collapse it now! Prepare fallback point C! Americans, move the firelines east now!"
The commanders scattered, shouting orders. Alarms rang across the shrine. Wards flared to life—some cracked, others holding firm. Dozens of witches and wizards rushed to their positions, sparks flying as spell after spell was hurled into the coming storm.
But the gods were nearly upon them.
Zelus slammed into the outer wards with such force the mountain itself groaned. Enchanted stone shattered. Icelus followed with a sweeping wave of shadow, blanketing two defense towers in screaming blackness before they blinked out entirely.
Still, Kazuki stood firm.
He raised his wand high. "Hold the lines! Do not let them reach the inner sanctum!"
And so began the true assault the one no one was ready for.