Azalea began to explain what had happened.
"I was with one of my teammates," she said, her voice steady as she spoke in the present. "Nyxen. We were following the mission. Conquering the planets across these universes. Subduing the mortal worlds one by one."
As she spoke, Ava's golden eyes burned brighter.
Tenshi no Me was active.
Though his body remained in the present, flying beside her, his spirit stepped elsewhere. He was there, watching it unfold.
He saw Nyxen clearly.
Bright yellow eyes glinted beneath sharp, coarse fur, his face lupine, his hands unmistakably human while his legs ended in the powerful feet of a beast. His upper body was bare, marked by deep scars that told stories of countless battles, while a single armored sleeve covered his right arm. Cloth and armor hung unevenly across him, practical rather than ornamental.
In the past, Azalea floated effortlessly on her broomstick, her grimoire hovering open in front of her. She swept across the planet's skies, unleashing destruction only upon armies and soldiers. Cities shook beneath her passing, military installations crumbled, and war machines burned.
Yet whenever she could, she used Primal Arcanum magic. Helpless animals were sealed away from the chaos, folded safely into pocket spells before the devastation could reach them.
She descended upon cities and made her demands openly.
"Surrender," she said. "Your national forces have already been destroyed. There is no need for further bloodshed."
When the citizens dispersed, she would pass a spell over them, sending the entire population into sleep.
Then she moved on, flying across the world.
Until she heard it.
The sharp crack of whips.
The thunder of hooves striking stone.
"I know that sound," Azalea said.
In an instant, she vanished.
Using immeasurable speed, she arrived at the source before the echoes could fade. A group of native warriors stood before her, mounted on massive six-legged horses. Their weapons burned with flame, blades raised as they lashed the animals relentlessly.
"Because of you, I lost the bet!" one shouted, striking again. "I lost my money, you stupid horse!"
Azalea's magic surged outward, her aura flaring into deep ultraviolet.
"How dare you," she said.
The warriors turned, fear flashing across their faces as they grabbed their weapons, energy crackling around them.
"I hate killing," Azalea continued calmly. "But what I hate more than that… is people who bully helpless animals."
Her grimoire flipped rapidly, pages turning on their own as her finger began to glow.
"Unlike you, I am forced to conquer. You had a choice." Her gaze hardened. "And you chose wrong."
She lifted her hand. "I transcend you. This spell should be easy."
Bolts of Primal Arcanum magic shot forth, striking each warrior in turn. Their screams cut short as their bodies twisted and shrank, transforming into croaking frogs that tumbled helplessly to the ground.
Azalea floated down, stepping off her broomstick.
"Enjoy being frogs," she said flatly.
She moved to the horses, calming them with Primal Arcanum magic, soothing their fear. With a wave of her hand, a portal opened, glowing softly.
"It's going to be okay," she told them as she guided the creatures through, sending them safely to her own universe.
As the portal closed, another presence descended from above.
Nyxen flew down toward her, landing beside her as the moment settled.
And through all of it, Ava watched.
Present and past layered together.
Every detail burned into his sight.
Nyxen descended from above. The moment settled around them, the echoes of chaos finally fading.
"What are you doing?" Nyxen asked, his voice low.
Azalea didn't look at him. "A few missing animals aren't a big deal."
Nyxen's ears twitched. "You know that's against the rules. You can't keep teleporting animals into your universe." His gaze sharpened. "When the generals and captains arrive to finish the takeover, they'll notice. Every planet we conquer ends the same way, except yours. Ecosystems stripped too clean. Herds missing. Predators gone. Compare those worlds to planets taken before, even to our own, and the difference will be obvious. The numbers won't match. And once they start asking why, they'll trace it back to you."
She sighed. "I can't help it. They shouldn't have to suffer because of our problems and wars."
Nyxen crossed his arms. "You really don't like conquering, do you?" He tilted his head. "Then why did you even join Dark Lords Academy?"
Azalea finally turned to face him. "Because I don't have a choice. I'm one of the few warriors my planet has left. I'm here to represent them. To keep my world alive." Her voice hardened. "So I endure this."
Nyxen scoffed. "That's a weak mindset." His claws flexed. "The general shouldn't have partnered me with you." His gaze drifted toward the sky. "I left my family behind to come here. I sought out the Academy because of the legends. The wars. The worlds they broke. I wanted to be part of it."
He looked back at her, eyes burning. "Not to conquer. Not for politics. To fight. The thrill of battle is the only reason I'm here."
Azalea's expression didn't waver. "Don't confuse my kindness for weakness. I will do what I must." She clenched her fist. "My people come before everything. Saving them is my first priority."
Nyxen nodded slowly. "Good. Because loyalty matters more than anything." His tone sharpened. "We must be loyal to the Dark Lord."
"Yes," Azalea said quietly. "I am loyal to the Dark Lord."
Her eyes lowered as she reached for the hypercube.
The artifact ignited in her grasp, its geometry unfolding as demonic silhouettes poured forth. Chains of summoning magic wrapped around the world below, beginning the systematic enslavement of the planet, preparing it for full conquest.
When the ritual was complete, they rose into the sky and left the world behind, already moving toward the next target.
Then the hypercube pulsed.
Its surface flickered violently, flooding with warped images. Voices bled through the artifact, screams layered atop one another.
"Help… help"
"The gods are here please help us"
Azalea froze.
The faces of their teammates flickered across the surface of the hypercube, fear and agony unmistakable.
"No!" Azalea screamed, clutching the artifact as she shouted their names into the void.
Nyxen's lips curled into a grin, his fur bristling sharply along his arms and spine. "Finally. A real fight. This mortal realm has been unbearably dull." His eyes gleamed. "Looks like they ran into gods."
Azalea ignored him, frantically manipulating the hypercube, runes flaring and collapsing in rapid succession. "It's not working," she said, panic creeping into her voice. "The signal's being jammed."
She froze then straightened.
"But… I placed a contingency spell on one of them," she said, relief breaking through the fear. "A personal mark. I know exactly where she is."
She looked up sharply. "Come on. We're going."
Nyxen's fur spiked even further. "Good. Let's go."
They vanished.
At immeasurable speed, they tore through reality, crossing infinite Size multiverses in moments. Sectors collapsed behind them as they surged forward, leaving entire cosmological regions behind.
And all the while, Ava was there.
Not physically but spiritually, dimensionally watching everything unfold, existing in the present while observing the past in perfect overlap.
They traveled endlessly, multiverse after multiverse blurring into abstraction, until they reached a distant region of the mortal realm's infinite expanse.
Far ahead, something appeared.
A planet.
At first glance, it looked finite small, almost ordinary floating alone in space. But behind it loomed something impossible: an infinite wall of radiant energy stretching endlessly in all directions. Between the planet and the wall lay a bridge formed of compressed air and living wind Ehecatl winds shimmering with motion and power.
Nyxen slowed, staring. "That planet is massive… and what is that wall? That energy"
Azalea's expression hardened. "That planet is more than massive. It's a super-planet. It transcends time and space, yet still allows mortals to live upon it."
She gestured toward the vast barrier beyond. "That wall is the higher realms of this hyperverse. Domains that surpass time, space, and narrative itself. The Meadow."
Her eyes narrowed. "From our angle, we should land near where our friends are being held."
She surged forward. "Come on."
As they flew closer, the distance warped. The planet didn't seem to approach instead, it stretched farther away, space folding endlessly between them.
"Faster," Azalea urged. "A Dimension Ascension surrounds this world. Infinite layers of higher-order space, each one transcending the last. No one gets through without permission."
She inhaled sharply.
No spell. No incantation.
Azalea activated Dimension Ascension through sheer will alone. Higher existence radiated from her body as reality subtly bent in her presence, layers of transcendence unfolding around her being. She seized Nyxen and pulled him with her, enveloping him within her own ascending dimensions.
They surged toward barrier, a construct formed from stacked infinities and recursive transcendence. Each layer denied entry by exceeding the one before it. Azalea pushed higher. Her ascension rose to meet the barrier's level, then surpassed it. The layers fractured, cracking under equivalence, then yielding as her transcendence matched and overtook their own.
The moment they crossed, higher-dimensional gravity asserted itself. It was overwhelming, crushing, absolute.
What had appeared finite from afar revealed its true nature.
The planet was larger than infinite multiverses, its mass defined not by size but by dimensional density. It was layered with structures that transcended time, space, logic, and causality itself. Entire hierarchies of reality coexisted within its frame, stabilized only by specialized magic woven by the Outer Gods who inhabited it.
That magic was not decorative. It was necessary.
Without it, mortals and lesser beings would cease to exist instantly, erased by the pressure of higher-dimensional presence alone. The planet allowed life only because its rulers permitted it.
As Azalea's Dimension Ascension deactivated, the pull intensified. Stripped of her protective transcendence, gravity seized them completely.
They were dragged downward violently and hurled from the sky.
They crashed into the planet's surface with catastrophic force.
The ground shook as the super-planet acknowledged its newest intruders.
Azalea and Nyxen rose from the fractured ground and lifted into the air, accelerating as they flew across the planet's vast expanse.
"We're not far," Azalea said. "I can still sense it. The spell I placed on my friend is active."
Nyxen's hair bristled, dark strands sharpening along his arms and spine as his aura shifted. "Do you sense any gods?" he asked. "Or the ones they're fighting. Are they strong?"
Azalea glanced at him. "Why does that matter? Our friends need help. Our teammates."
"There is nothing greater than dying in battle. To fight, to bleed, to give yourself to the Dark Lord there is no higher purpose. Victory, or death by the sword. Either is a blessing."
Azalea said nothing. They continued forward in silence.
As they crossed the skies, civilizations unfolded beneath them.
Great stepped pyramids rose from the land in every direction, their stone faces painted with vivid symbols and divine markings. Broad plazas stretched between them, alive with movement. People clad in layered cloth, feathered mantles, and jade adornments walked in ordered rhythms, some carrying offerings, others chanting or performing ritual dances beneath the open sky. Fires burned in ceremonial circles. Drums echoed across the air, steady and deep, beating in time with something older than history.
This was only a fragment of the planet.
A single island upon the surface of a super-planet vast beyond comprehension.
It was called Tlalocan.
Forged from the essence of the Outer God Tlaloc himself, it was only one island upon the planet's surface. On this world, most islands were infinite in scale, each containing entire, infinite realms, universes, and multiverses within them. Many were layered with separate timelines, branching time accesses, or places where time did not exist at all.
To escape a single island, one had to possess the ability to escape infinity itself.
This was a planet of gods and outer gods, beings worshiped by mortals not because of belief, but because survival demanded reverence.
Azalea and Nyxen accelerated, moving at immeasurable speed as they left the island they had landed upon. They descended onto the vast waters that separated the domains, riding across them toward the next island. The distances between islands were infinite, each one its own infinite multiverse, traversable only through overwhelming speed, rare magical artifacts, or transcendent abilities.
Azalea shouted, "We're getting closer. I can see it."
Ahead of them rose their destination.
Xiuhcan a hyperversal island containing an infinite collection of infinite multiverses, each multiverse fully endless, all forged, governed, and sustained by the Outer God Xiuhtecuhtli.
They arrived to find the island already consumed by war.
Ava was there as well, unseen. He observed spiritually, dimensionally tethered to Azalea's life string. Through her connection, he looked out across the battlefield and understood the scale of what was unfolding.
The demons summoned by the hypercube had already made landfall.
The Ravagers advanced first. Humanoid demons with red skin and horned heads, their limbs spiked and jagged, elephant-like tusks tearing from their jaws. They wielded high-tech demon rifles, swords, and shields, weapons humming with corrupted energy as they cut through the air.
Behind them came the Trevanarch. Towering monsters ranging from twelve to fifty feet tall, plated in heavy demonic armor. Their massive swords dragged against reality itself, warping physics with every swing.
Above the ground hovered the Trevanox. Their horns glowed black and red as telekinesis bent matter around them. They barked orders from the sky while demon legions teleported across the capital, enslaving survivors and stamping the world beneath them.
Opposing them stood the native defenders of the island, warriors born of an infinite multiverses , fighting not only for their home, but for the laws that governed it.
Ava saw them clearly.
The Xiuhcan Hearthguard formed the front lines, warriors of the flame-born tribes. They wore armor forged from obsidian and basalt, carved and bound in sacred ritual patterns, cracked like cooled lava after a holy burn. From each fracture seeped a dim, living heat, as if the breath of the fire god still pulsed within the stone.
Their weapons were born of lava and flame, blades and spears wreathed in cosmic fire that burned without consuming. Others drew obsidian bows, loosing arrows of molten light that struck enemy shields and armor, flaring on impact to protect the advancing ranks. Shields locked together as they pushed forward, armor covering every inch of their bodies, unbroken and resolute.
As they advanced, they shouted in their native tongue, voices rising in praise of their gods, calling upon Xiuhtecuhtli as fire and fury answered their devotion. They met the demon tide head-on, unyielding, aflame with ancestral resolve, chosen warriors bound by flame, faith, and cosmic will.
Behind them stood the Xiuhcoatl Sentinels, the Fire Serpent Guard. They were larger than the Hearthguard, towering figures clad in less armor, their bodies wrapped instead in scorched cloth and ceremonial bindings. Exposed skin bore deep tribal tattoos, glowing faintly as heat rolled from their flesh. Flames burned low across them, steady and rhythmic, as if their hearts beat in time with the fire itself.
Their eyes glowed like embers buried beneath ash. Serpent glyphs were carved into bone, cloth, and skin alike, marks of the great fire-beast Quetzalcoatl, binding them to its legacy. In their hands they wielded massive macuahuitl, blades so large they rivaled men in length, edged with obsidian and wreathed in living fire. Each step they took made the ground seem older, heavier, as the world remembered . Living flame coiled around them in obedient spirals, and their presence alone made the air tremble, ancient, oppressive, and afraid.
Fighting alongside them were the Xiuhcan Tlamacazqui. Most of them floated above the battlefield, suspended in the air as if the ground no longer acknowledged them. Their bare arms were carved with glowing glyph-scars, each mark pulsing with restrained power, while flames drifted around them in precise geometric patterns that bent and reformed with every gesture. When they spoke, their voices echoed slightly out of sync, as though reality itself struggled to keep pace with their existence.
The majority of the Tlamacazqui were women, wielders of forbidden, taboo-fire magic unique to their land. Some hovered calmly behind the lines, weaving searing incantations that closed wounds with burning light, cauterizing flesh and restoring warriors through fire rather than mercy. Others raised their hands and hurled blazing fireballs into the enemy ranks, each impact exploding with ritual force. A few whispered curses into the flames themselves, sending living embers that clung, marked, and doomed those they touched. Their magic was not wild, but deliberate, ancient, and feared, fire shaped by tradition, sacrifice, and unspoken laws older than memory.
And then Ava saw the final formation.
The leaders.
The Xiuhcan Flame Lords.
They were the leaders of the packs, the chiefs of the tribes, floating above the battlefield as they directed the army below, issuing commands through gesture and presence rather than shouted orders. As they hovered and flew through the smoke and fire, they unleashed powerful energy blasts into the chaos, fighting alongside their warriors even as they commanded them.
Each Flame Lord wielded a special weapon, forged for them alone, and each carried a distinct ability that marked their role in the war. No two fought the same way. Around their bodies drifted tribal animals of their world, not living beasts but spectral remains, dead creatures bound by ritual and flame. These animal forms moved with them in orbit, protecting, striking, and roaring soundlessly as symbols of conquest, lineage, and authority.
They were not distant rulers.
They were the will of the tribes made visible, guiding the battle from the sky while embodying its violence and power.
Then his attention lifted.
Above the battlefield hovered three gods.
To the left was Chantico, feathers crowning her head, long brown hair flowing freely around her shoulders. Her brown eyes glowed like banked embers, sharp and watchful, carrying clear irritation at the chaos below. Gold earrings caught the light as layered garments of red, gold, and deep blue wrapped her form, ceremonial rather than ornamental.
Beside her hovered a dense orb of living flame, compact and controlled, burning without smoke. It pulsed slowly, as if responding to her mood. Chantico was the goddess of hearth-fire, the sacred flame of law and order, protector of homes, and judge of those who broke ritual bounds.
Beside her hovered Itztlacoliuhqui, his lower body that of a massive scorpion, chitinous and jagged, while his upper form was armored and draped in gold and burned-orange cloth. An unnatural cold radiated from him, sharp and merciless, frosting the air itself.
From the curve of his scorpion tail, thick green, lava-like ooze slowly leaked and dripped, hissing as it fell, neither fully molten nor frozen. He watched the battlefield in silence, arms crossed, expression rigid and unforgiving, as if judgment had already been passed.
Above them both, seated casually in the air as though reality itself were his throne, was. An outer god, completely removed from mortal scale. The flames surrounding him were not ordinary fire, but something transcendent, ancient, burning beyond heat or destruction.
Upon his head rested a crown of feathers and fur taken from the beasts of this world, trophies of countless creatures slain across ages. Their deaths were etched across his body, not as wounds, but as symbols, woven into the fire that wrapped around him entirely. The flames clung to his form like a living mantle. His eyes glowed a dark, smoldering green.
He yawned.
Ava's focus snapped back to the battlefield as he watched his friends continue to fight, still connected to Azalea's live stream, his awareness split across timelines.