The blackened throne of Korrak, Pale Flame of the Abyss, loomed silent within the pocket dimension he had carved. Walls of molten obsidian twisted like frozen rivers, pulsating faintly as if the entire palace itself breathed.
Vez'Ghar, maw dripping with ichor even in repose, stood beside the throne as Korrak leaned forward, skeletal frame burning in faint white flame. His voice, calm but commanding, broke the silence.
"Vez'Ghar, I grow restless. The Thororks are a blunt instrument, useful… but primitive. The elves scurry like rats in their forests, bound to their hollow god Solas. But this world is larger. I will see it with my own eyes."
Before Vez'Ghar could respond, a lesser demon stumbled into the chamber, bowing low, wings quivering with fear. "M-my lord Korrak… after days of scouting… the terrain reveals itself. Between the Thorork plains and the Elvish forests lies a massive sea. Beyond it… another land. Another continent. We observed the ports of men. Mortals who walk not as prey, but as cultivators… feeding on heaven and earth to rival even beasts."
For a moment, silence. Then — a flicker of joy crossed Korrak's hollow sockets. His chained bones rattled softly, whispering screams of extinguished worlds.
"Humans… cultivators. I had hoped."
He turned to Vez'Ghar. "Guard this pocket dimension. Contact me through the tether if anything changes. I will… be indisposed for a time."
"Yes, Pale Flame," Vez'Ghar growled, bowing his massive head.
With nothing but a slight raise of his finger, Korrak dragged his nail across the air. Space itself screamed, splitting into a red tear that swirled with chains and fire. He stepped through — and the portal collapsed with a boom.
Arrival in the Human Lands
When Korrak emerged, his disguise began to shape around him. The burning skeleton folded inward, chains vanishing into ash, until what stood there was a tall man in flowing black robes, long white hair, and a face sharp and handsome — but cold. His eyes, still faintly ember-like, flickered as though holding back storms.
Below him stretched a mountain path, and beyond it — sprawling across the horizon — lay a city so massive it swallowed the earth itself. Walls higher than Thorork battlements gleamed with immortal stone, etched with glowing sigils of protective formations. The sea sparkled behind the city, filled with countless merchant ships. Airships hovered overhead, drifting lazily like predatory birds.
This was the human megacity of Dawnfire, jewel of the Celestial Empire of Arkanis.
The Cultivation System of Arkanis
The humans here were no simple mortals. They followed the Path of Cultivation, dividing their power into Nine Great Realms:
Body Tempering – mortals harden bone and flesh, reaching the strength of beasts.
Spirit Awakening – cultivators awaken spiritual cores, allowing them to wield qi.
Foundation Establishment – they form their inner foundations, stabilizing power.
Core Formation – condensed golden or crystalline cores, granting long life.
Nascent Soul – a second soul manifests, able to leave the body.
Soul Ascension – stepping into dominion, wielding spiritual laws.
Heaven Tribulation – challengers of fate itself, often ending in death or apotheosis.
Saint Realm – walking calamities, able to contend with divine beasts.
Immortal Ascension – no longer bound to the mortal plane, the pinnacle of cultivation.
A single mid-tier cultivator of Core Formation could slaughter armies. Entire sects of these cultivators governed the empire's provinces, while Nascent Souls served as generals and Saints as untouchable heroes.
It was this system that allowed humanity to rival the Thororks and even the Elves.
Entering Dawnfire
Korrak descended from the mountain, robes swaying, walking among caravans of merchants, peasants, and wandering cultivators heading for Dawnfire's massive gates. The closer he came, the thicker the qi in the air became — cultivated by grand formations embedded in every stone of the city's walls.
At the gate, a squad of armored guards stood. They were no simple soldiers — each one radiated the energy of Foundation Establishment Realm cultivators, middle-tier by the standards of this world. A jade device pulsed in their hands, glowing brighter whenever someone stepped forward.
"Next," one guard barked.
The appraisal tool hummed as Korrak approached… then fizzled. It turned completely black, giving no reading.
The guards frowned. A common occurrence — too many powerful cultivators broke their devices, and too many weak ones failed to register at all.
"Hah, another useless outer cultivator with no qi presence," one of them muttered. "Don't waste our time. Move along."
They waved him through without suspicion.
Inside the Megacity
Dawnfire was a sight of impossible scale. Towers of jade and gold stretched toward the heavens, carved with runes that shimmered faintly. Flying swords carried young disciples between sect halls. Marketplaces bustled with treasures — spirit herbs, talismans, beast cores — while mortal commoners hustled between cultivators like ants scurrying under dragons.
At the city's heart rose the Imperial Sect Hall, a fortress-palace of crystalline stone, glowing with the power of immortals who once walked these lands. It was here that the Emperor-Sage of Arkanis ruled — a cultivator rumored to stand at the Saint Realm.
Korrak paused at the center of a busy street, tilting his head slightly. His ember-like eyes burned faintly, and his lips curled into a thin smile.
"This world…" he whispered. "So much ripe flesh. So much hunger. Yes… it begins here."
Behind him, the crowd of mortals and cultivators continued rushing, unaware that among them now walked one of Diablo's six Dreadbound.
Meanwhile…
In the Thorork encampment, Seratha sat upon a bone throne, instructing Mog and Hra'Zhul. Her voice was cold, commanding.
"Your task is simple. Unite the clans. Strip the lands for treasures. The elves will burn… utterly. I will orchestrate their annihilation. Fail me, and even your gods will not shield you."
Mog and Hra'Zhul both bowed, fists against their chests.
As her briefing concluded, her mind shivered — a telepathic voice brushing against her. Vez'Ghar.
"Our master has found a human nation. He will be indisposed. Keep the mission on track."
She masked her irritation, rising from the throne. "Then so be it. Mog. Hra'Zhul. You know what must be done. I have matters to attend to."
The Thororks obeyed without question, and Seratha vanished in a flicker of abyssal smoke.
Among the Elves
In the sacred groves of Loryndor, Solas sat within a council of disguised angels. His tone was grave.
"The messenger has returned from High Heaven. What say they of the hellhounds?"
The angel knelt, golden light flickering faintly through his mortal form. "High Heaven declares the threat minor. They believe we are sufficient to handle such beasts. They will not send further support."
Solas sighed. As expected. "Then we must act ourselves. Suggestions?"
One angel stepped forward. "There is another land. A human settlement. A nation of cultivators. Strong, disciplined, armed with their strange systems of power. If they are brought under our wing, they could tip the balance against the demons."
Solas was silent, then nodded. "So be it. Send a representative. Win them to our cause. If the demons spread here, we will need every mortal blade and prayer."
Back in Dawnfire, Korrak smiled as he stood before the glowing sect towers. His plans whispered to him like chains rattling in the dark.
"Humans. Angels. Elves. Thororks. The world is not enough. Soon…"
He raised a hand slightly, flames licking beneath his fingernails.
"Soon it will burn."