WA-11
Waregough Archipelago
Gledea Northern Coast
August 6th
531st Divine Year
Arthur and Evan sat along the coast of Gledea, watching as moonlight bathed the Waregough Archipelago.
The islands, numbered WA-01 to WA-105, dotted the northern waters like scattered stones.
Far above, beyond the planet's atmosphere and the sharp sight of the Aramisian god-kings, Jamie surveyed the islands below. With a snap of his fingers, cosmic energy veiled Gledea, cloaking the gathering demon forces.
"It's not interference unless you get caught."—Arthur had joked earlier, and Jamie was more than confident no one could ever catch him.
The plan was simple in theory: teleport millions of demons onto the islands, surround them with Barron's naval fleet, and strike hard before the Aramisians even knew what was happening.
Kalon was hiding somewhere on WA-03, the island wrapped in a maze of similarly shaped land masses.
Divinity-infused waters surrounded the archipelago, essentially creating a holy water barrier to weaken any approaching demons. It was a deterrent, but not nearly enough to stop what was coming.
Alvey, Barron, and McEnda had spent hours refining every detail of the plan—from air raids and naval strikes to the precise movements of ground troops.
Now, it was time to put it into action.
"Let's begin."
Seated on the island's coast, Arthur raised a brow as he felt the sudden spike in ambient cosmic energy.
Looking skyward, he saw a vast cascade of cosmic spatial energy descend over Gledea like a waterfall, bathing the continent in its imperceptible glow.
In an instant, millions of demons appeared on the islands, materializing like shadows from the night.
No warning or fanfare.
Just sudden, seamless arrivals.
One moment, the waters shimmered under the moonlight. The next, that light was swallowed by an endless sea of demons.
On WA-03, entire divisions appeared out of thin air, weapons drawn, battle-ready. Across the archipelago, demons flooded military bases, streets, and even quiet residential areas.
Panic hit the Aramisians like a sledgehammer.
Jamie worked his magic, erasing the 'space' between Barron's naval fleet and the Archipelago. The fleet instantly appeared within the range of the Archipelago's radars, led by the massive Triton's Ark, far too large to go unnoticed.
Alarms blared from WA-100 as distress signals spread. But every reply came the same: "We're under attack too!"
Little did they know, the real spectacle had yet to begin.
The sky lit up as Gozonian airships descended, raining missiles upon the Aramisian defences. The islands trembled as the first wave of anti-divinity missiles streaked toward their targets, detonating with earth-shattering force.
Alarms blared as soldiers scrambled to respond, but before they could organize, the demons had already stormed the streets of WA-03's military cities.
From the sea, Barron's navy unleashed a storm of demonic energy shells, their cannons lighting up the night like a deadly fireworks display.
Inside a WA-03 command centre, Aramisian officers stared in horror as their screens filled with reports of the sudden demon invasion.
Each update from the surrounding islands confirmed the worst—the Gozonians had deployed at least ten million demons per island.
It made no sense. How had they mobilized such a massive force without detection? How had they taken the Aramisians so completely off guard?
So many questions, with answers nowhere in sight.
◇ ◇ ◇
High above the planet, on the moon that illuminated the night, the Aramisian god-kings watched in shock.
They had been monitoring the Waregough Archipelago closely, wary of demonic interference—yet now, their worst nightmares were unfolding before them.
"How are they doing this? How are they hiding from us?!"
One of the god-kings slammed his hand on the table, shattering it in frustration. The others were just as baffled.
"Tsk…!"
Without hesitation, he roused his divinity, preparing to seal the space around Waregough to stop further teleportations.
But before he could act, the room suddenly grew cold.
"What's up, divine fuckers?"
"?!"
They turned to see Xagthor Valren, the Demon King of Frost, standing with McEnda II.
Instantly, the god-king's eyes narrowed. The last time these two appeared unannounced, they hadn't come alone and this time was no different.
Standing before the de facto leader of the Aramisian god Kings was none other than the detestable Demon King of the Void.
"Well, hello there. Wonderful evening, don't you think?"
Jamie's voice was casual, though it dripped with condescension. The god-kings glared hatefully at him, but before they could speak, Jamie continued talking.
"You're not going anywhere, and you're not going to do anything.
You'll just have to watch the show those little kids cooked up."
As he spoke, Jamie casually released a fraction of his power—his void power.
The effects were instant and terrifying.
The fabric of space-time itself began to disappear around him, dissolving like erased pencil marks.
The light filling the room began to bend unnaturally around him the god Kings, attuned to the universe's fundamental workings through the fragmented Ruler Authorities they wielded, immediately understood what was happening.
They could perceive the low-level errors Jamie's released power was causing in the universe's working system.
A lone bead of cold sweat traced a path down the closest god King's cheek.
The stark realization dawned on them all: even with their combined power, they were staring into a force capable of erasing their very existences.
Frustration burned in their eyes, but there was nothing they could do as Jamie's presence and the overwhelming pressure of his void energy held them frozen in place.
They had no choice but to watch their forces be annihilated.
◇ ◇ ◇
Back on the islands, the battle raged exactly as planned.
The Aramisians fought desperately, but they were hopelessly outmatched. The Gozonians' element of surprise, combined with their anti-divinity weapons, tore through Aramisian ranks like wildfire.
The ships of Barron Agriker, the legendary Demon Admiral, closed in on the various islands of the Waregough Archipelago. His Vice Admirals stood at the helms, directing their forces amidst the growing chaos.
Their mere presence sent chills down the spines of even the most hardened Aramisian soldiers.
They'd been surrounded, outnumbered, and out-planned.
There was no time for questions—only two choices: fight or die.
On WA-50 and below, Aramisian forces scrambled to mount a counteroffensive, sending frantic SOS messages to the mainland, begging for reinforcements.
But they had no idea that a line of Transcendent Demons was already stationed on Gledea, ready to intercept any response.
The mainland would offer no help.
But the real crisis for the Aramisians was unfolding on WA-03.
This island was the entire reason for the attack as it was where Ger's disciple, Kalon, resided.
He was the last living individual with complete knowledge of the Fake Divines' creation, the culmination of years of secretive research and experimentation.
And there was a problem: Kalon wasn't in any condition to be moved.
The creation of Fake Divines was a closely guarded secret held by the Aramisians.
They were the sole possessors of this knowledge within the entire Orithyia Galaxy, and the god Kings ensured that knowledge remained tightly controlled.
Only three people had ever known the full process:
- Zebas, the pioneer who created the first generation.
- Ger, his successor, who took over after Zebas was killed by Sigesi.
- Kalon, Ger's disciple—the last remaining key to the entire project.
The process wasn't as simple as infusing humans with divine factors. It was far more intricate.
While other researchers assisted Zebas and Ger, they only held fragmented knowledge. There were procedures, formulas, and key knowledge only Zebas, Ger, and Kalon possessed, and only they knew how to apply them.
Now, Zebas was long dead. Ger, as far as the Aramisians knew, had been killed by Arthur in Duskhand. That left only Kalon.
If he died, the knowledge would die with him.
This terrifying reality forced the god Kings to act. They convened and debated, finally deciding on a desperate measure:
Kalon must create backups of his knowledge.
But Kalon had his own thoughts on the matter.
"What good is the information without the intellect to use it properly?"
That was the question he had posed, dismissing not only the scientists and researchers but also the Divine Human Transcendents and the god Kings themselves!
His words served as a blatant insult to the team of experts working under him, and there was nothing subtle about it.
Yet, as much as they may have resented his attitude, his words carried a harsh truth. He wasn't just smart; he was a genius, far beyond the others who worked under him.
So, when the topic of preserving knowledge came to him, it was less about safeguarding the data and more about preserving his own intellect.
Kalon dismissed their suggestions outright and proposed something radical.
"Clone my brain."
Kalon didn't need his body cloned—just his brain.
Every neuron, every pathway in his cerebral structure was to be replicated and uploaded into a supercomputing artifact, effectively creating a second Kalon that could think, analyse, and replicate his work as if it were the original.
One in the flesh, one digital.
The Aramisians eagerly approved the plan. If anything happened to him, they would still have him, in a sense.
But cloning a demigod's brain—especially one as complex as Kalon—was no simple task.
The process required practitioners of rare biological Universal laws and the abstruse Quantum law. Many people didn't even know such a law existed. But it did, as without it, there would be no quantum mechanics in the Universe.
The god Kings scoured other planets, bringing experts to Aramis, where they combined magic and technology to replicate every delicate structure of Kalon's brain.
At the heart of the project was the Neural Web, a crystalline lattice that captured and stored neuronal patterns with near-perfect fidelity. Every neuron was mapped, copied, and transferred into this web.
The process was invasive and energy-intensive. But after weeks of effort, they succeeded in successfully cloning Kalon's brain.
However, as with any procedure of this magnitude, consequences were inevitable.
Kalon suffered intense neurological backlash after the cloning. With every detail of his mind replicated, it left him in a state of imbalance.
His synapses misfired, leading to relentless, searing migraines, waves of nausea, and a crushing fatigue. Every movement sent sharp pains through his skull, and in the initial hours after regaining consciousness, even the simplest tasks were difficult to focus on.
The medical team assured him this was temporary, and they weren't wrong.
Slowly, his condition improved, and by the time he fully recovered, preparations had begun to relocate both him and his clone to separate high-security locations to ensure their survival in the event of another crisis.
The cloning of his brain had occurred while two of the Four-Star Generals and the Silver Summoner were away from Aramis, attending the Annual Gozonian Summit. The Aramisians had operated under the assumption that the Gozonians wouldn't make any moves while their strongest combatants were absent.
They were mistaken.
Alvey's shadow and mimic demons had infiltrated Waregough Archipelago during the summit. Led by Jabberwocky, who had killed and mimicked an Aramisian General, they discovered the truth—Kalon's brain clone was still unstable, just like its original, and couldn't be moved yet.
Kalon, still recovering, was overseeing the final stages of relocation when the attack on Waregough commenced.
The Demon navy suddenly closed in, and their soldiers were already swarming the nearby islands. Their unexpected appearance and overwhelming numbers caught everyone off guard, and Kalon's mind—still foggy from his recent ordeal—struggled to process the chaos around him.
Though his physical condition was improving, mentally he wasn't at his best.
Now, with the attack in full swing, the Aramisians' carefully laid plans were falling apart.