Across the vast oceans, thousands of kilometers away from the human continent, lay the Northern Continent of the Demonoids.
The demonoids were beings created in the image of humans, with the primary difference being their unnaturally pale skin and their predominantly red eyes. Any demonoid born with eyes of a different color was seen as cursed. Such individuals were heavily discriminated against, often abandoned by their own families, and in some cases hunted. No demonoid with a different eye color was safe from this treatment—not even those of high rank.
Every demonoid bore a distinct mark upon their neck, signifying their standing within their nation. These marks varied in shape and size: high-ranking demonoids possessed thick, prominent markings that also indicated their vast soul energy capacity, while lower-ranking demonoids bore smaller, lighter marks. Those of lower rank had no voice in governance and were destined to remain followers for life.
Unlike the human continent, which consisted of more than thirty nations, the demonoid continent contained only four. Yet its lands were the largest in the entire world—each nation expansive enough to cover five or more human kingdoms. This was because the demonoids were united under a single supreme ruler: a being granted authority by the Supreme God of the Underworld himself. This ruler was known as the Demonoid Lord—an ultimate existence blessed with godhood, revered as the god of all demonoids, and possessing absolute authority over the continent.
No ordinary demonoid could gaze upon the Demonoid Lord. Instead, he selected four high-ranking demonoids whom he deemed worthy to share fragments of his power and influence. These chosen beings became known as the Demonoid Kings.
The Demonoid Lord divided the continent into four great nations:
the Kingdom of Blac,
the Kingdom of Necro,
the Kingdom of Vevaria,
and the Kingdom of Lute.
These kingdoms were entrusted to the four chosen demonoids centuries ago. Though demonoids lived far longer than humans, they were still mortal—unlike the Demonoid Lord, who was believed to be immortal. Over generations, each king passed their rule to their descendants, always with the Demonoid Lord's approval, until the present era.
The Demonoid Lord rarely interfered in their affairs. Conflict between nations was common, as ambition and greed often drove demonoids to seize land from one another. The guiding law of the continent was simple and brutal: Survival of the Fittest.
Demonoids worshipped the Demonoid Lord exclusively and held no allegiance to the six human gods, acting under the blessing of their true creator—the Supreme God of the Underworld, brother to the All-Father. Because of this divine origin, soul energy was never foreign to them; they had wielded it since the dawn of creation.
Yet even within such a ruthless continent, there existed demonoids of compassion and honor.
One such example was the new Demonoid King of the Kingdom of Blac—Casto Vel Blac.
Casto ascended the throne at only eighteen years old, the sole surviving child of the former king. His siblings had slaughtered one another in a brutal civil war for the crown. Casto, born with heterochromia—one red eye and one blue—was deemed weak, cursed, and incompetent. Even his own father dismissed him. Because of this, his siblings ignored him during their struggle, believing he could be eliminated at any time.
Fate, however, had other plans.
Casto emerged as the only surviving heir and was crowned Demonoid King by law—an unbreakable decree established by the Demonoid Lord himself. Though the decision split public opinion, none dared challenge it.
As king, Casto immediately began dismantling the kingdom's cruel traditions. He canceled invasion plans prepared before his coronation and initiated peaceful negotiations with neighboring kingdoms. Once again, the nation was divided. Some praised his vision, believing the demonoids needed to evolve and catch up to humanity. Others condemned him, branding his actions weakness and blaming his "cursed" eye.
Unwilling to abandon the doctrine of Survival of the Fittest, dissenters refused to accept what they saw as a fragile ruler. This resentment culminated in a coup d'état led by the head of the Demonic Guard at the time—Pyon.
Pyon rallied soldiers and citizens who shared his beliefs and declared war against Casto's supporters.
The coup failed.
Most of Pyon's allies were captured, while others fled into hiding. Pyon himself escaped but was branded a traitor, a bounty placed upon his head. He lived as a fugitive—until he was discovered by Jace, who later recruited him as one of the Grand Four Generals while traveling toward the human continent.
In the present day, Casto—now twenty years old—had made remarkable progress. He had strengthened diplomatic relations across the demonoid continent and grown especially close to the Kingdom of Lute, where he was engaged to the second daughter of its Demonoid King.
Under his leadership, the continent slowly began to change. Discrimination still existed, and rank-based privilege remained deeply ingrained, much like within human societies. Yet constant warfare between nations had ceased. Trade routes were established, communication improved, and stability took root.
Though the demonoids still lagged behind humans in advancement, the gap was closing. Their leaders had begun contemplating outreach beyond their continent—to the Human and Drakziel continents alike.
Resistance remained, particularly among older demonoids whose hatred for other races—especially humans—ran deep. Discussions were still in their infancy, and no decisions had yet been finalized.
But for the first time in centuries, the demonoid continent stood on the brink of true transformation.
⸻
On the direct orders of Jace, Nass traveled back to the Demonoid Continent, accompanied by two of her subordinates. Both were human—an enormous risk. To avoid immediate exposure, they were carefully disguised. Among demonoids, humans were not only sworn enemies but also an exceedingly rare sight in this new generation. One slip would have blown their cover instantly.
For Nass, this journey carried more weight than the mission itself.
She had returned home.
The Kingdom of Vevaria—her homeland—stood before her for the first time in nearly four years. Yet what she saw left her frozen in place.
It wasn't as technologically advanced as the human continent, but it was nothing like the Vevaria she remembered.
The streets were alive.
Children ran freely through open roads. Merchants laughed and argued over prices. There were no heavily armed guards watching citizens with predatory suspicion. No fear etched into every passerby's face.
Demonoids from other kingdoms walked openly through the streets—unchained, unthreatened. They traded goods with locals as equals.
Trade.
Something that, years ago, would have earned public execution.
Nass slowly turned, disbelief etched across her face. She exchanged glances with her two subordinates, expecting equal shock—but they only looked back at her, confused. To them, this was normal.
"…What in the world happened here?" Nass finally exclaimed.
She approached a nearby shop, her composure barely intact, and questioned the owner about the state of the kingdom.
What she heard stunned her even further.
The shopkeeper spoke of a new era—how the Demonoid King of the Kingdom of Blac had succeeded in doing the impossible: negotiating peace between all four demonoid kingdoms. He spoke of how violent the resistance had been at first, how the fighting had grown worse than ever before, and how even Vevaria had clashed fiercely against this change.
Yet in the end, the king of Blac had prevailed.
Not just against rival kingdoms—but against his own people.
This fragile, hard-earned peace was the result of his relentless efforts to unite the continent.
Nass already knew about the civil war in Blac—Pyon had never stopped talking about it—but this?
This level of transformation?
It was new.
And massive.
She thanked the shopkeeper and moved on. Night was approaching, and the three of them needed an inn. More importantly, they needed privacy—to discuss what they had uncovered and plan their next move carefully.
⸻
Two days had passed since Jericho and Erica returned to the Kingdom of Righteous.
As expected, the contraption they had traveled in caused a stir. Whispers followed them wherever they went, awe and fear blending in equal measure among those who saw it for the first time.
Now alone, Jericho made his way to the Holy Church of the Six Crowns.
He intended to use the Evlogia Ore once more.
This time, by himself.
At the entrance, he exchanged a few warm words with Carol, the receptionist, who was visibly overjoyed to see him after such a long absence. Before long, Archpriest Leon emerged personally to welcome him.
After bidding Carol goodbye, Jericho followed closely behind.
Once again, Father Leon led him deep beneath the church, into the hidden chambers where the ore was kept. At the sealed doorway, Leon stopped, allowing Jericho to proceed alone.
The door closed behind him.
Jericho approached the Evlogia Ore, placed his hand upon its surface, and began to meditate.
The world dissolved.
His consciousness was drawn into Ego Elysium—the divine realm of the six gods.
Before him stood six radiant beings, their forms bathed in heavenly light, their presence exuding overwhelming grace and authority. Jericho immediately dropped to one knee, bowing deeply.
Smiles greeted him.
"It's been so long, Jericho. You're looking well," Bios said warmly.
"You really took your sweet time coming back to see us," Nea Zoi added with a mischievous smirk.
"Please forgive me, my lords," Jericho said quickly, remaining bowed. "It was never my intention to delay so long."
"Pay no mind to Nea Zoi," Desmos said gently. "We are aware of the trials that kept you bound to the mortal world. Please—rise. It truly is good to see you again."
Jericho lifted his head and finally gazed upon the divine faces once more.
"It is a blessing to stand before you again, my lords," he said sincerely. "I am ready to journey to the Mist Mountains to retrieve the Luxton Star, as we discussed. But first, I wished to brief you on the current state of Earth."
The gods nodded, granting him their full attention.
Jericho spoke of everything—meeting Drako, accepting him as an ally, and the long struggle it took for humanity to begin mastering soul energy.
Then he spoke of Warmark.
Of Jace's invasion.
Of seeing his brother again for the first time in three and a half years.
"…Please forgive me," Jericho said, his voice trembling. "I froze. Seeing what my brother had become… I couldn't move. My hesitation nearly got someone killed. I stand before you ashamed. I am not worthy to carry out your will—or even my own."
Silence followed.
Then Desmos stepped forward.
"Jericho," he said firmly, "you are not weak. We never expected you to raise your hand against your brother without hesitation. He is your only family. If you had acted differently, we would have questioned our choice."
The other gods nodded.
"You are not weak," Desmos continued. "You are kind. And that is your greatest strength."
"We chose you for who you are," Meta added. "Do not belittle yourself."
Emotion welled in Jericho's chest. He smiled faintly.
"Thank you, my lords. I won't disappoint you. My next objective is the Luxton Star."
After a pause, Jericho bowed once more.
"My lords… I have a question. I understand if you deem me unready, but I must ask."
The gods gestured for him to continue.
"I recently formed a connection with something called the Divine Avatars of Nature. I know the basics—but I sense more. They feel… aware. As if they possess will, emotion. Do they have minds of their own, or are they merely energy?"
The gods exchanged knowing looks.
Then they smiled.
"You will have your answers, Jericho," Nous said, her tone grave. "And more than that. As we told you before—now that we understand where your heart truly lies, you are ready."
Her gaze sharpened.
"You are ready to learn the truth of this world… and of the fallen god known as Pluto."