“Your Majesty, Gill—daemons at our gates!”

“Your Majesty, Queen Dorado, the daemons have breached the Empire!”

“My king! The daemons—they’ve emptied their nests!”

The three reports hit like the same drumbeat on three different shields, and the three kings froze as if lightning pinned them in place.

The eldest, King Moser, shook off the shock like dust off an old cloak and began sorting the threads. “This ‘daemon invasion’—spell it out. Are they striking all three nations, or only one?”

The three soldiers traded a glance, a spark passing between flints, then spoke as one, voices overlapping like waves. “Yes, my king—daemons are invading all three realms!”

“All three…” The words fell like a stone into a still pond.

“No, my king,” one added, voice tight as a bowstring. “I believe smaller countries are likely under attack too. The daemons don’t value them—just sent a few to raid—so…”

“An invasion of all humanity? What kind of joke is that?” King Alex’s temper flared like oil catching a spark. “Have they gone mad?”

His fist slammed the table; the carved wood answered with a heavy thud, like a war drum struck in a silent hall.

“Calm down. You have to calm down.” The words were a cool hand on a fevered brow, and his heart’s wild gallop slowed to a canter.

“Hey, Dorado. And you—old man.” Gill’s voice came cold and clean, like steel in morning frost. “We need to head back now. Let’s suspend this Three Kings Council.”

Dorado, who had been sparring with him all morning like two blades ringing, agreed without a blink.

“I’m returning as well,” Moser said, the lines at his eyes deep as river cuts. “My wife—no, my townsfolk—need my shield. I’ve no taste for a council that feels like a bad joke.”

Both agreed. By the council’s law, one nay could chain them here, but King Alex didn’t have Gill’s pride to pick fights with two crowns. His own urgency burned like a brand; he nodded.

Three kings agreed; three kings withdrew; the Three Kings Council ended like a candle snuffed in wind, a failed meeting and a scattered flame.

One of the soldiers from the chamber took the reins and drove King Alex. Outside the carriage window, the city rolled past like ink wash on silk, colors bleeding toward the horizon.

“Hey,” King Alex said, voice low, a stone skipping across a dark lake. “Give me the details on this daemon incursion.”

The soldier knew his duty and didn’t dodge. “My king, they call it an invasion, but the daemons are standing motionless at the Empire’s main gate, like hunters holding breath. It’s as if they’re waiting. Stranger still, our mana detectors can’t feel any mana in them. They read like corpses. But around them—there’s a dense swell of mana that breaks every rule. Even common folk who can’t use mana can see a haze, like blurred phantoms wavering in the air.”

King Alex’s brow drew tight, a stormfront closing. “So this invasion is… wrong at the roots, huh?”

“Yes, my king. They must’ve seen the fall of the gods. They waited days, the gods never showed, so they decided the gods are truly gone. That’s why they swagger out to invade us again. They’re pure evil.”

Silence settled on him like snow. He was a king; his view reached farther than most hilltops. He knew what others didn’t—daemons hate the human world’s air. By that alone, they’ve no reason to invade. No one contests the Underworld with them. And unlike humans, they follow one true sovereign—the Demon King.

Under the Demon King’s absolute might, no daemon rebels, and no rival cities rise. The Underworld is called the worst place beneath the sky, yet with no enemies and no rival fangs, the daemon race lives like people in a hidden paradise, thorns outside and soft moss within.

So they have no reason to leave their den for our ash heaps. Which makes this invasion a crooked shadow.

Driven by someone?

It wasn’t wild to think so. By the soldier’s picture, those daemons looked like beings stripped by forbidden rites—souls torn out. Without a soul, mana won’t acknowledge you. Mana won’t dwell in empty bodies. That explains the void inside them. But then why does mana pool thick around them like fog around stones?

Unless something’s pulling the mana in. Mana won’t gather by itself. And soulless flesh can’t attract it. Which means… the Demon King?

“Right. Did you notify them to hold their borders?” His tone softened for a heartbeat, like embers under ash. Them meant those silly brats he kept calling his own.

“Of course. Messengers are already on the road. But we couldn’t reach Princess Alicia. She’s not in the city—only her two young maids are there.”

At the name Alicia, the king’s gaze flickered like a candle in a draft, and a new layer of age settled on his face, thin as frost. Alicia…