THE BLOOD ARENA OPENS
A sea of howls and crimson mist spread before the grand coliseum of Shav'Kurak, the Blood Arena of the Lower Abyss. Flames licked blackened pillars as Vez'Ghar of the Ebon Maw and Seratha the Hollow Flame stood sentinel at the gates, welcoming the incoming tide of lesser demon nobles. They were the right hands to Korrak the Pale Flame, second and third in command, and their faces glowed with savage pride.
They bowed deeply for every passing warrior — the strongest always in charge.
High atop the executive stands sat Korrak, propped in obsidian cushions under a canopy of splintering bones. A beautiful lesser demoness approached him, bearing a goblet of fresh demon-blood — thick, sweet, and still thrumming with power.
He sipped with approval, eyes never leaving the arena floor.
THE BUILDUP
Within the ring, lesser nobles squared off — old vendettas met new rivalries beneath jagged spires. Blades flashed with anticipation. Limitless bloodlust permeated the air, as denizens greeted foes with guttural snarls and whispered threats.
"Your blade's as dull as your ambition," one snarled.
"You're weak, demon," retorted another. "I'll carve your lungs out."
THE SHOW BEGINS
As the arena's colossal gates—which looked like ribs of a titanic beast—slammed shut with bone-shaking force, Vez'Ghar and Seratha strode forward into the ring's center, kneeling before Korrak and reporting:
Vez'Ghar: "Six hundred thousand have entered the arena, my lord."
Seratha: "Two hundred thousand eliminated in the first wave."
Korrak drained the last drop of his goblet. With a deep breath, he stood tall.
"Let the games begin."
He clapped once—crack. A thunderous shockwave shook the ground, sending invisible ripples upward. A sonic boom cleared the blood clouds overhead, opening the sky as screams and cheers ignited below.
The first wave of battle erupted.
FINAL BLOOD DANCE
Torrents of violence followed as lesser nobles tore each other apart: decapitations, bone shattering, claws ripping flesh. The strongest climbed to supremacy.
By day's end—by Korrak's design—only ten survivors remained from a brutal million.
THE ASCENT TO GRANDEUR
Korrak descended into the blood-stained sands of the arena. The ten survivors knelt in trembling reverence before him. With pride, he led them into the portal that Vez'Ghar conjured—a shimmering blood-etched gate to the Higher Abyss.
They emerged weak, but alive, silent under Korrak's scrutiny as they traversed long obsidian corridors to Malgus's grand palace—a cathedral of pain and ambition.
APPEARANCE BEFORE THE GOD
At the throne chamber's apex sat Malgus, veiled in shadow and surrounded by infernal architecture. Even as the ten warriors knelt, hopeful, their voices chuckled in fear and reverence.
Malgus did not flinch. His eyes swept the room until they landed on Korrak.
"You have your envoy," he intoned, voice echoing like grinding stones.
"Now prepare them. Our conquest awaits."
Korrak nodded. Malgus moved aside, raising a hand to open a gargantuan portal crackling with abyssal energy.
"Through here," he commanded. "And may the world die quickly."
Without hesitation, the dark legion filed through.
VELMORA IN KRAV'ZIRATH
Back in the demonic cult kingdom, Velmora's rule was iron and velvet. Market districts flowed with offerings, nobility whispered beneath crimson banners, and Genevieve struggled to maintain composure.
She had tried to run. Escaping the palace to return Eryk to the port city.
She was caught.
Now she knelt, bound, beside Velmora on a dais.
"Running is unthinkable," Velmora's voice was soft and cold.
"You sought safety… outside of my protection."
Genevieve's tears stained the stone floor beneath her.
"I was scared."
"I know."
"But you chose this path the moment you stepped here."
Velmora turned her attention to Eryk, who stood trembling by the throne.
"Eryk," she spoke quietly, eyes on him, "learn from this. Domination requires sacrifice."
Eryk swallowed hard. Danger had found them. He was no longer a boy.
He nodded slowly.
THE ANGELIC EMERGENCY
High above in Sanctus Aeternum, the Angelic Council met in convocation, golden robes swirling.
Archangel Auriel slammed a holy scepter upon the floor.
"They have claimed the eastern continent. They have summoned horror into reality. Diablo's wrath is already loose—the golden-blooded angels returned—already echoing through our chambers!"
Archangel Halion raised a hand.
"We must strike now. Send our Watchers and Seraphim legions to Val'Karuun. Alert Solas. Alert the Throneroom of Heaven."
Auriel nodded gravely.
"And the Eastern barrier? We must pierce it."
The council paused.
Then Auriel said with finality:
"Let the war begin."
THE BATTLE LINES DRAWN
Deep in the Higher Abyss, the system's rewards illuminated Malgus's throne:
+20,000 Points – Blood Arena Victory
+15,000 Points – Envy of Angelic Host
Reward Unlocked: Dimensional Rift Mastery
Malgus watched with subtle satisfaction as his malevolent empire took shape.
But across the final horizon—the smell of war blood and divine retribution grew.
The multiverse braced for the coming storm.