Four months passed in the galaxy.
In ordinary times, this span meant nothing, barely a flicker in the life of empires, hardly enough for a minor clan to relocate its holdings.
But under the influence of the time fields, countless warriors now bore the weight of five centuries of experience etched into them. Others returned from the Edge Structures, individuals who had entered as promising youths and emerged as hardened veterans, carrying thousands of years' worth of battles carved into their bones.
The Nyseren Sector transformed beyond recognition. The empires spared nothing. They fortified the sector until it resembled a colossal bastion carved into the void. Countless defensive layers, spatial anchors, formation arrays, observer towers, stellar bunkers, and void-traversal corridors now interlinked seamlessly from one corner of the sector to the other. A new command structure stood in the center, a massive edifice built and designed to host all the rulers for the duration of the war.
And so, for months, the galaxy waited.
Millions of warriors stood ready. Countless fleets hovered silently above strategic nodes. Time fields pulsed in every capital, yet not a single demon crossed the frontier.
What was the Demon Emperor doing?
Why had he not attacked?
Even the most patient of warriors began to murmur among themselves. Had the Demon Emperor changed his goal? Or was the final war something they concluded themselves, seeing the demons gathering?
No one knew. All they could do was prepare and wait.
...
Adrian stood within the Command Construct's observation chamber, staring through the transparent wall at the void beyond. His hands rested behind his back, posture relaxed, yet his mind churned.
Four months.
Four months of silence.
His Source Eyes flickered open, scanning the distant demon sector. Mana signatures clustered there, vast and immeasurable, but they hadn't moved. Not once.
He frowned.
Behind him, footsteps approached. Kaelith entered the chamber, her expression grim, "Still nothing?"
Adrian shook his head slowly, "Nothing. They gathered, but they are not advancing."
Kaelith crossed her arms, "The warriors are growing restless. Some are beginning to believe the threat was exaggerated."
"It isn't." Adrian's voice carried absolute certainty. He turned slightly, meeting Kaelith's gaze, "There should be a reason the Demon Emperor gathered every demon, it's just we don't know what it is. If it isn't for the final war, it could be something far worse."
Kaelith hesitated, "If it's something far worse… do you think we can win?"
Adrian didn't answer immediately. He turned back to the void, watching the distant stars pulse with faint light.
"We have to."
...
Deep within the Demon Sector, the truth behind the silence unfolded.
The Demon Emperor sat upon his throne, his fingers drumming lightly on the armrest. Then, with a twitch of his hand, a figure materialized before him.
Humanoid, similar to him in features but clearly incomplete, lacking the fullness of self.
One of his Replicas.
The replica blinked, disoriented. Its mouth opened as though to speak—
Before it could, threads of pitch-black energy shot forward. They wrapped around the replica like a cocoon and consumed it in a single violent motion.
Its memories, comprehension, experiences, and essence seeds were absorbed into the Demon Emperor.
A new essence seed ignited within him, just one among the hundreds he already possessed.
He exhaled slowly, savouring the influx. His eyes glowed faintly as knowledge flooded his consciousness.
In these four months, while the galaxy prepared, the Demon Emperor had been far from idle. He had been retrieving every Replica he had scattered across the empires, consuming them one by one. Through them, he relived battles, learned of weapons, observed cultivation methods, and harvested the growth of beings who never knew they were but seeds to be reaped.
More importantly, he gained information.
And that information astonished even him.
"Ahhh… the feast matured before the war even began."
He reclined back on his throne, savouring the influx of memories like a gourmet sampling a rare delicacy. Azrael's memories had first revealed the tattoos and time fields, but not full information about the origin ink, since it was kept as a secret.
But now, through countless Replicas, he learned of the origin ink that was made public in the galaxy and the fact that the galaxy was now undergoing the greatest cultivation surge in its recorded history.
Entire populations gaining affinity flexibility that historically belonged only to rare prodigies.
He saw warriors who should have plateaued at SSS-rank now wielding Stellar-level power. He witnessed inscribers etching formations they had no right to. He observed miners, farmers, merchants, and even normal civilians, suddenly capable of manipulating essence types previously beyond their reach.
And the more he absorbed, the more he saw: The entire galaxy was transforming into a hive of anomalies, beings capable of wielding multiple concepts, beings who could grow beyond their limits, beings whose potential exceeded the boundaries of logic.
His lips parted in hungry delight, it exhilarated him.
He had originally gathered the demons to forge Adrian and the Origin Clan into something worthy of devouring. But now, seeing the transformation sweeping through all empires, his ambitions surged.
Why feast on one clan when he could devour an entire civilization touched by anomaly?
So he forced himself to wait months longer, pulling back the demons not out of caution, but to let the prey ripen. Every passing day made the galaxy more exquisite, more intoxicating.
But now even his patience had reached its limit, "It is time."
He summoned the demon warlords.
Soon, Voren and Aren arrived, and behind them, the chamber filled with arrivals. One by one, warlords emerged through rifts in space, through pillars of flame, through veils of shadow.
Twenty-six demon warlords in total.
More than twice the number of warlords the entire galaxy possessed on the empire's side. These beings could erase sectors with a thought. Together, they could crack the void itself.
All the demon warlords knelt before the Demon Emperor; the chamber trembled beneath their collective presence.
Voren's voice carried excitement barely restrained, "My lord, have you finally called us to war?"
"The empires have grown fat with false hope," Aren added, "Let us show them despair."
The Demon Emperor rose from his throne. He descended the steps slowly, then smiled.
Then suddenly, dark threads erupted from his body.
They shot forward like living spears, too fast for even warlords to perceive. The threads wrapped around flesh, pierced through domains as though they were silk.
Screams filled the chamber, the warlords thrashed against bindings that tightened with every heartbeat, threads that consumed essence faster than they could regenerate.
Voren's voice rang in disbelief, "My lord—why!?"
Aren asked, "We served you for eras! Why us!?"
Another warlord roared, attempting to crush the threads with his domain, but they simply absorbed the force and multiplied, "What have we done to deserve—"
His words cut off as threads pierced his throat.
The Demon Emperor laughed; the sound echoed through the chamber, rich with genuine amusement, devoid of malice or anger. Just pure, delighted satisfaction.
"You blood-hungry fools…" He stepped closer to Voren, whose body had begun cracking like dried clay, "Did you truly believe I cherished you?"
Voren's eyes widened, comprehension dawning even as his essence seed fractured.
"Each one of you was merely livestock fattened for this day."
Aren struggled to speak, his voice barely a whisper, "You… kept us safe… we thought…"
"Yes." The Demon Emperor nodded, almost kindly, "I kept you from true battles. I spared you from needless risks. I sheltered you from wars that might have weakened you."
Realization spread across Voren's face as he felt his seed unravel strand by strand.
They had believed it was benevolence, favouritism. The Demon Emperor protecting his most valued servants.
Now they understood.
He had been fattening cattle.
The devouring intensified, threads multiplied, wrapping around warlords in cocoons of darkness. One by one, their screams cut off. One by one, their bodies collapsed into ash. One by one, their essence seeds shattered and flowed into him.
Memories flooded his consciousness, comprehension painstakingly earned through centuries.
All of it his now.
When the last warlord fell silent, an overwhelming surge of power rippled through him, cracking the stone under his feet.
He exhaled slowly, savouring the influx. All the essence seeds of the Twenty-six warlords joined the hundreds already burning within him.
Then something else stirred.
He felt it in the core of his being, where his Devour Concept resided. The concept trembled, pulsed, expanded. It had already been at the advanced galactic stage, a pinnacle few ever reached.
Now it started to evolve.
The boundaries blurred, and the rules governing it shifted. The more he consumed, the stronger it became, not linearly, but exponentially. Each warlord devoured didn't just add to his power; it multiplied the Devour Concept's capacity to consume.
He had discovered a divine concept thousands of years ago while searching the Edge, painstakingly comprehending it. That divine concept had granted him strength beyond any warlord, similar to the ancient cultivators.
Yet now, feeling his Devour Concept surge and transform, he sensed something impossible.
If he kept devouring…
If he consumed enough…
His Devour Concept would surpass even the divine concept he had comprehended. He whispered with trembling exhilaration, "So my path was right… Devouring can surpass even divine concepts…"
The chamber walls cracked further, unable to withstand the pressure radiating from him, "I will shatter the Great Nothing with my own hand!"
He strode from the throne room. The corridors beyond stretched vast and dark, filled with demons who had served him for eras.
Every demon unfortunate enough to cross his path froze as his presence washed over them. Then they screamed.
Threads shot outward without discrimination, consuming everything alive. Lesser demons dissolved before they could beg. Commanders' domains shattered like glass. Warriors who had survived a thousand battles vanished in seconds.
The Demon Emperor walked through the carnage, expression serene.
Each death fed him. Each essence absorbed strengthened his Devour Concept further. The hunger that had driven him for millennia now sang with validation, he had been right to trust it, right to feed it.
He had waited long enough.
Preparation was complete.
Now he feasted.
...
Far away, from the galaxy's edge, a young girl watched through the void.
Her eyes widened, disbelief etched across delicate features.
"Grandpa!" She turned sharply toward the old man floating beside her, "Has he gone insane? Why is he devouring his own warlords?"
The old man stood with arms folded. He sighed, long and deep.
"I warned you. That boy is too ambitious for his own good." His voice carried resignation rather than surprise, "It appears that his mind finally snapped."
The girl shook her head stubbornly, "But you said he transcended his bloodlust! You said he was patient enough to plan for millennia!"
She pointed toward the distant demon sector, where threads of darkness now spread like a plague, consuming everything.
"Someone like that wouldn't simply lose control now!"
The old man did not reply.
His gaze remained fixed on the Demon Emperor, watching threads spiral outward.
The girl pressed on, "Grandpa, something must have changed. No one becomes this mad without a reason!"
Still, the old man said nothing.
They continued watching as the Demon Emperor tore through his own warriors, devouring everything that dared exist in his presence. The demon sector, once teeming with millions, grew silent save for the screams of those being consumed.
And far away, across the vast expanse of void and stars, the galaxy prepared for a war that no longer existed.
…
In the Nyseren Sector, Adrian stood before the observation window, his Source Eyes flickering as he scanned the distant demon territory.
Something had changed.
The mana signatures clustered there pulsed differently now, fewer in number, but denser and concentrated. As though countless flames had merged into a single inferno.
His frown deepened.
"What are you doing?" he whispered into the void.