Nero stepped through the gates, with Shire following closely behind. The guards to the left and right immediately greeted him by falling to their knees.
He inhaled the rancid air, air so toxic it would poison and kill any ordinary human within days. But Nero had long ceased to be anything close to human.
His dark, abyssal eyes swept over the scene before him.
Hundreds of Polykenas roamed the main street, their harsh, grating voices filling the air as they conversed. Some argued, others engaged in brutal fights, their glowing yellow eyes burning with primal aggression.
Most bore the same ash-gray or pitch-black skin as Shire and Fril, but among them moved a few slender Polykenas whose skin was pale and nearly paper-thin. That stark difference revealed the contrasting kinds of magic they wielded.
The black-skinned Polykenas possessed the ability to amplify their physical strength, enhancing their bodies to dozens of times their natural power. They could leap higher, move faster, and strike with devastating force. Shire's enhancement was so extreme that his skin was nearly impervious; Nero had once witnessed him bring down half a fortress with a single, earth-shattering punch.
In contrast, the white-skinned Polykenas could manipulate the world around them. Xersies, Nero's supreme general and the strongest of all Polykenas, could bend and create light itself. It seemed unimpressive until one understood that he could unleash the full force of a star, reducing everything in his path to ash.
A decade ago, Nero would not have stood a chance against Xersies. But after his latest surge in power, he now felt slightly more confident. In raw strength alone, he could rival him.
Yet strength was not everything. Though Nero looked no older than twenty-five, he had lived for more than fifty years, a fleeting moment compared to the centuries Xersies had endured.
In Polykenas society, leadership was not inherited. It was claimed through blood and slaughter. Xersies had more than earned his place, and his mastery over his magic was awe-inspiring.
Nero exhaled slowly. How much longer would it take until he could reach that level?
His expression hardened. There was no room for self-pity. At the rate he was gaining power, it would not be long before he caught up to Xersies and even surpassed him.
His gaze rose toward the massive tower at the fortress's center.
With a single thought, he summoned his power and felt it surge through his veins like a roaring torrent. It erupted from his body and coiled around him in writhing darkness. The shadows obeyed, launching skyward and carrying him effortlessly into the air.
He landed atop the colossal tower with perfect grace. As the shadows withdrew and faded, Shire appeared beside him, having scaled the structure in a single monstrous leap.
Nero clasped his hands behind his back.
"Shire, my cloak," he commanded.
Without hesitation, Shire reached into a side pouch and withdrew a black cloak, handing it over.
Nero draped it around his shoulders. It was no mere protection against the cold. The cloak was woven with thousands of intricate symbols, not embroidered with thread but infused with the power of one of the black stones.
It had taken Nero nearly a month to complete, and the process had nearly failed due to his limited control over the stone's energy. Only with Ramor's guidance had he succeeded.
This cloak was his greatest weapon.
As long as he wore it, his magic nearly doubled in potency, and it shielded him from any attack from behind. It was not indestructible, but it was invaluable. The cost of a single Chaos Shard had been steep, but to Nero, it had been worth every sacrifice.
He nodded once, then lowered himself to one knee.
Pressing his palm against a small symbol engraved at the tower's center, he sent out a pulse of magic.
It responded instantly.
Like a flood, his power poured into the symbol, which flared to life with an eerie blue glow. A sudden shift in his consciousness washed over him.
The symbol relayed its signal to another, then another, until thousands across the fortress activated in rapid succession.
Nero felt them all.
He felt everything.
The fortress was no longer a structure of stone and iron; it was him. He sensed every living being within its vast walls, and in turn, they all felt his presence. It was overwhelming, a sensation of immense power pressing dangerously close to the limits of his mind.
Every Polykenas within the fortress reacted. Movement and chatter ceased. All eyes rose toward the black tower.
Nero sent a command rippling through their very souls.
A deep, chilling laughter rumbled from his throat.
"Hahahaha! It is done. Polykenas, rejoice! This day will be immortalized in history. Today, our true war begins!"
The fortress erupted in deafening cheers, but Nero lifted his voice once more.
"From this day forward, we will fight more battles. We will bring greater destruction. I will forge you into the most powerful army the universe has ever known! The very mention of the Polykenas will send entire civilizations into terror!"
Their cheers swelled into a roar that shook stone.
They screamed with joy, with bloodlust, with an insatiable hunger for war. They howled for the chance to burn the universe to the ground. That was why they had chosen him, because they knew he would deliver. He would give them the universe. He would give them Chaos, the very essence of their existence.
Nero sent out one final call.
"Xersies, come!"
Barely two seconds passed before a brilliant light seared the air. When it faded, Xersies stood beside Shire, a wild grin on his face.
"Well said, my Duce!"
Nero smirked coldly and ignored the praise.
He refocused his magic, pouring even more of it into the symbol. He sensed the magnitude of power surging through the fortress and knew this was only the beginning. The ability to feel everything within the stronghold was just one of its three functions. It was the least significant one. That alone he could use anywhere, as long as he touched a connected symbol.
But the second function, the very reason the fortress had been created, could only be activated from here.
Nero willed it to awaken. Thousands of obscure symbols ignited once more.
The demand for his power and mind grew unbearable. His fingertips split, dark blood seeping from countless small cracks.
It was the first sign that he was using too much magic. The cracks would spread, creeping toward his arm, toward his second heart, the core of his magic. He did not know what would happen if they reached it, but he suspected the result would not be pleasant.
He had barely contributed a single percent of the magic needed for the fortress's secondary function, yet the first signs of strain were already showing. Still, he pressed on. He had expected this outcome.
The air shifted. The fortress was awakening.
"POLYKENAS, LEND ME YOUR POWER!" he roared, sending the command through every symbol.
They obeyed instantly.
Magic flared across the entire fortress as millions channeled their energy into the network. The issue of magic was resolved, but the intellectual strain had been far greater than he anticipated. He could not perform this alone.
"Xersies, bring me Ramor," Nero ordered sharply.
Xersies vanished and returned half a minute later with Nero's second general.
Ramor fell to his knees the moment he arrived, placing both palms on the central symbol. He needed no instruction.
He was a symbolic, a master of the ancient markings and the greatest one in the Polykenas army. He had designed the fortress himself, mapping every symbol's placement.
Though his magic was not suited for combat, he was second only to Xersies in importance. Nero suspected he was even older than Xersies. Yet their laws were absolute: Xersies had defeated him in battle and claimed dominance. That was why Ramor despised him.
But Xersies, cunning as ever, had recognized Ramor's value. Breaking Polykenas tradition, he had spared his life and made him his second-in-command, a rare display of respect from a stronger Polykenas to a weaker one.
As soon as Ramor began assisting, the strain on Nero lessened at once.
With inhuman precision, Ramor manipulated the symbols, funneling the power of millions into the fortress's core.
At last, Nero felt that the energy was sufficient. He nodded to Ramor.
Together, they unleashed the stored power. A foreboding hum rose from the depths of the fortress as the sheer magnitude of magic awakened.
The earth trembled.
A violent quake rippled across the land, spreading across the entire world. The air stirred, twisting into massive storms. Nero had anticipated this as well. He had ordered Ramor to inscribe symbols across the outer wall to block the winds. Even so, an immense tremor shook the fortress. The winds were far more powerful than anything nature could create.
Like an insatiable black hole, the fortress devoured an unseen force: the residual magic of devastation itself. It drank from ruined cities, burning forests, shattered mountains, and the corpses of every animal slain. It drank from every drop of blood spilled by the Polykenas over decades.
It was the essence of pure chaos.
It hurtled into the tower, colliding with the four massive symbols engraved in its walls and bringing them to life. The energy coalesced, then erupted upward, surging through Nero, Ramor, Xersies, and Shire.
Xersies howled with maniacal laughter. Even Shire smirked, a rare sight.
But they were only bystanders.
This power was not meant for them.
It ascended in a colossal beam, piercing the heavens. Just before reaching the clouds, it vanished.
Reality fractured as the power tore through existence, ripping open a path to a hidden realm.
A dimension unseen by mortal eyes.
The realm of the Polykenas.