Hell, a wasteland of the villainous and wicked. Steaming lands of solidified heat, rivers of molten ore running through, and burning air that’d fill your lungs with pain.

A pit of black, red and ember.

As a rift lay torn wide open, surrounded by this hell, as creatures of the under swarmed about it.

Demons lesser and beasts alike formed military lines as higher demons whipped them into control. Screeches, growls and cackles filled the rift’s surroundings as echoes of agony and horror whispered through as well.

“Prepare the titans, awaken the Deamons!” A bellowing voice shook the air, as a monstrous being stood lumbering over the rest, black of skin, horned and winged with tendrils of flame for hair, the Devil’s crimson eyes scanned his vast army covering the burning lands before him.

As his minions took heed of his orders, whipping at massive boulders laying in the rivers of magma, which shuddered and rose. Goliaths of fire and brimstone stood up, demons themselves yet attuned to the elements of hell, an army of them woken.

The Devil chuckled, “Faetera shall not stand to this assault! We are only one battalion marching onto their plane! Twenty others gather as we speak prepared before twenty other rifts! But I solely will shine before the great King Xokith’s gaze! And if any of you magots fuck this up I promise you’ll wish you were never exhaled out of the ground!” He hissed, stomping down where dozens of his minions scrambled out of danger.

Continuing to chuckle when…the rift shuddered. The Devil’s gaze turned to it with a raised brow, as out of the glossy shard of reality walked out a person.

The Devil growled, “A scout?”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kaV_5ALfK1I

When the white adorned man raised his gaze, releasing his cloak from about himself and letting it flutter in the burning winds, he revealed his pitch-black plate-armour…And his face.

Short-cut golden hair, wings of gold and pure-white netting, a scaly tail of gold with gems of white.

Erikathyr gazed upon the army of hell, his ferocious eyes of gold stretched with fury.

The Devil laughed a shaky chuckle, “Y-You came? Right to us!” pausing cold as Erik’s eyes met his.

“I am no scout, I come forth as the vanguard.” Erik said as crimson lighting sparked out of his body then, “And think not that I came alone. For you have sinned greatly against me.” His gaze then moving away from the Devil, and instead at the land around him.

As out of the rift behind him marched out white-cloaked beings, dozens over dozens of them, they formed up behind him as three stepped out of formation to join beside Erik.

One of the cloaked figures lowered her hood, revealing a somewhat older Quinn, “So, this is hell?” the Spiritbeast mused, glancing back at her regiment, ears and tails hidden beneath their cloaks…every single one was the same as her.

Following the Spiritbeasts came an armada of knights, donning the same armour as Erik and wielding tall black halberds or towering crimson shields along with jagged black crystal spears.

Leading this army was Makaela, wearing her old Xilfir leather armour and cloak, her trusty whip and daggers by her side.

The sound of marching metal boots brought the demon army’s screeching and snarling to a stop, as more and more knights flooded through the rift.

“Ha-Hah…you came prepared…” The Devil mused, his eyes widening further as he saw the Spiritbeasts, further when the Dragonknights came out, and reached their peek as a swarm of wyvern riders burst out into the cavernous skies.

“B-But your world…without you defending it! It will surely go to ruin!” The Devil exclaimed with some panic in his tone.

Erik growled, a beastial sound as lightning crackled along his palms. “Before either of Hell’s layers were brimstone, they were their own separate realms just like Faetera. Yet, they are older…Much much older.” He raised his hands wide, electricity surging out and into the ground before him. “You have slept for eons, hiding, awaiting your time. Draining the essence of the realm you were supposed to protect. Just like I had, you failed in your duty…Now I offer you redemption…My Elders, awaken from your brimstone slumber.” Erik spoke out, much like a magical chant yet in a much different language.

Speaking out in draconic, his voice echoed out infinitely, as the walls of hell then shuddered.

Allowing his anger to take hold then, Erik soared off the hillside where his army lay, bursting into flames and lightning as he rose, his body also grew.

Large wings parted out of the flames, embracing the lighting and revealing Erikathyr in his full form.

As from behind him, the humungous wall that made up hell’s back drop…opened up.

Rocks and dirt fell as the wall shook, as an eye-lid larger than the rift it self slid open, then the second reptilian layer sliding to the side, revealing a massive draconic eye of violet.

Then the ceiling rose, as something within it stretched and lifted, raining down rock and lava.

The Devils and Demons watched as the ceiling they once called home cracked open, out of which rose wing so large they seemed to have been embracing their world.

All over this layer of hell ancient beings awoken. Titans truer than the Daemons, and several thousand times larger, mountains in their own right.

The Elder Dragons rose, their heads breaching the clouds of red, as the violet sunlight once again touched the brimstone lands.

Rising up to stand upon one of these being’s heads, was a gold and white Dragon, Erikathyr gazed upon this realm that had stolen away his daughter.

Pure rage filling his chest as he let it out in a bellow, followed by each awoken Elder Dragon, momentarily deafening the realm.

And all of Hell now knew.

The Destroyer, had arrived.