Young Sector 101 — Deep beneath one of Verilion’s mountains Sakaar sat motionless upon his knees, his posture straight and regal, his hands resting perfectly on his thighs. His breathing was so faint, so utterly restrained, that even the most sensitive ear would hear nothing at all. Yet despite the silence, he was by no means asleep. There was an energy—an unseen force—stirring around him, growing heavier with every passing second. Something was happening, something entirely beyond the realm of ordinary comprehension. DOOM — a deep, thunderous pulse rippled through the air. The space surrounding Sakar convulsed. It was not mere vibration, not the trembling of air or stone—no, this was far more profound. If a human had been present in that subterranean cavern, they would have witnessed space itself moving like storm-tossed seas, vast invisible waves rising and falling violently within a radius of three full meters around Sakaar’s still body. The sight alone would have been enough to drain the color from any mortal’s face. Here sat Sakaar, perfectly calm, perfectly composed, and yet performing something so dreadfully unnatural that the fourth-stage spatial fabric of Verilion itself shivered in terror, as if begging to escape from around him. The violent roar of explosions suddenly crashed from above, shaking the entire mountain. Fiery impacts struck the upper layers of rock, sending tremors deep into the earth. The stone chamber around Sakaar quaked furiously, a cascade of dust raining from the ceiling. But the moment those tiny grains touched the air near him—they vanished. Torn apart into nothingness, disintegrated by the unstable spatial distortions surrounding him. Though nothing had physically reached him, Sakaar slowly lifted his head. His expression was cold and severe. The trembling waves of distorted space eased, curling inward and fading until the cavern was calm once more. It was clear—he was mildly angered by the interruption. With deliberate motion, he rose to his feet and stepped toward the tunnel. "What is happening above?" his deep voice boomed like thunder through the stone corridors. "Why are the explosions growing louder? Did I not order absolute silence?!" "My King!" Several Demons rushed forward from the connecting passageways, dropping to one knee before him, trembling with fear. "Your Majesty, there is bombardment coming from orbit "Bombardment... from space?" Sakaar repeated, his tone low and venomous, his brow furrowing. Another Demon sprinted down the corridor and fell to his knees before Sakar, his voice breathless and strained. "Your Majesty! The Marshal of the Shattering Meteors Empire requests your immediate presence! The situation outside has grown critical—the defenses are collapsing!" ".....?!" Sakaar turned toward the new arrival, his expression darkening in confusion. Since the end of the great conflict that had ignited within Middle Sector 101, things had long remained calm beneath his rule. With the emergence of new Demon Kings, the hierarchy had stabilized, and dominance over their territories had become almost effortless. Never, in more than a hundred years, had he been summoned with such urgency. Even so—he gave a curt nod. "Lead the way." His voice was quiet but heavy with restrained power. The air itself seemed to tremble as he followed the Demon deeper through the winding tunnels. They advanced for several minutes, the ground rumbling faintly overhead as distant detonations continued to thunder. Yet, before they could reach the surface, Sakar suddenly froze mid-step. A blood-curdling scream echoed through the vast network of stone corridors. It was a shriek of torment—raw, primal agony. The sound belonged unmistakably to a female Demon, and it carried the unmistakable tone of someone being devoured alive. "What... is happening there?" Sakaar’s voice dropped to a dangerous growl as he turned sharply toward the direction of the sound. Follow current ɴᴏᴠᴇʟs on 𝘯𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭⟡𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘦⟡𝘯𝘦𝘵 The cries were far—very far—yet within the labyrinthine network that stretched for hundreds of kilometers beneath the mountain, his supernatural senses caught every note of her suffering. Each echo of her scream crawled beneath his skin, resonating through the trembling stone as if the mountain itself bore witness to the horror unfolding somewhere in its depths. "She has been for three hours, Your Majesty," the Demon said, turning his head toward the direction of the echoing screams. His expression twisted in visible irritation, the corners of his mouth twitching in distaste. "If you wish, I’ll go and cut off her head myself so she’ll finally stop disturbing your peace." "She’s been screaming for three hours like that?" Sakar turned sharply, his dark gaze locking on the Demon. "Why?" "They say she’s giving birth," the Demon replied with a dismissive snort, spitting to the side in disgust. "A weak, useless female—her death would be a mercy. If it weren’t for the other females defending her, she would already be dead by now." "...." a trace of genuine surprise flashing across Sakaar’s features. The childbirth of Demons was, in general, not a matter of pain or weakness. Their birthing rites were not too different from those of humans, but much simpler and far less dramatic. A female Demon was built to give birth several times a year; her body was designed by nature itself to endure the process with ease. It wasn’t unusual for a Demon mother to wake up after a brief rest only to find her newborn cub already nestled beside her. But this... this was something else entirely. In all the centuries of his long existence, Sakaar had never Sakar turned his head one final time in that direction, his expression unreadable. Then he reached out, placing a heavy hand upon the shoulder of the Demon leading the way. "Go and guard her until she delivers. If she requires anything—no matter what it is—assist her. Do you understand me?" "Yes, Your Majesty," the Demon muttered uncertainly, bowing his head before rushing off down the dimly lit tunnel toward the screaming female. He didn’t truly understand the command, nor did he agree with it. In his mind, it would have been far more efficient to end her misery with a single strike, cut the cub out of her belly, and finish them both—thus sparing their kind from this disgrace. Weakness, after all, was a disease among Demons, and culling it was mercy. Still, there was no room for questions. Orders from the King were to be obeyed without hesitation. Only after that Demon’s figure vanished between the winding tunnels did Sakaar resume his slow, steady advance toward the main entrance of the vast underground city. Yet when he reached the final passage, what greeted his eyes made his breath still for an instant. The tunnel that should have opened halfway through the mountain—designed with precision to appear like a natural cave while in truth drilling deep into the mountain’s heart for hundreds of meters—was gone. The disguise, the layers of stone and ash that had protected their lair, were erased from existence. Sakaar stepped forward and stared in disbelief. The grand entrance that once descended into the earth was now level with the scorched ground. Everything—stone, soil, air—had turned black and evaporated. The earth itself was warped, a grotesque blend of molten rock and hardened glass, still shimmering with searing heat. The mountain that once stood as their fortress, their shield, was gone—obliterated, consumed entirely. If their enemies had guessed correctly, and they truly had built their nest in the mountain’s heart as everyone believed, none of them would be standing now. Every last Demon in the colony would have been vaporized by that cataclysmic strike. "What is happening here?!" Sakaar roared, his voice echoing across the flattened wasteland. "Zehrias! Where are you?!" A deafening impact shook the ground as a figure dropped from above—an imposing Demon clad in crimson armor, his arrival cracking the molten earth beneath him. "Marshal," the Demon said, lowering to one knee, his tone respectful yet tense. "Your Majesty, you shouldn’t have come out. The situation is... under control." "This—this is what you call under control?!" Sakaar’s voice thundered, echoing like an avalanche. He spread his long, muscular arms, gesturing at the endless destruction surrounding them. "Your only duty was to defend this mountain—to stand ready for bombardment or direct invasion. And yet this is what I find? Tell me how could you allow this to happen?" Zehrias’s jaw tightened beneath his helm. He straightened slightly, replying quickly, desperate to clear himself of blame. "They were not ordinary attacks, my King. They were three precision shots—fired from the artillery of motherships orbiting above. I managed to intercept two, but the third... the third came too fast. I couldn’t stop it in time. I require additional support here to hold the line." "Three motherships fired from orbit simultaneously—and all of them managed to get into the planet?!" Sakaar’s tone was laced with disbelief. "What are Lord Hedric’s followers doing above, then? Sleeping while our skies burn?!" All around Verilion, there were not mere dozens, but hundreds of fleets—massive star armadas, waiting in silence, eager to unleash their firepower and rain destruction upon the planet until nothing remained but ash. The only thing keeping them in check had always been Lord Hedric’s dominion—his fleets and his loyal followers who patrolled the orbital rings. Any ship that dared to open fire on the planet would be targeted and annihilated instantly. But now... that balance had been broken. The sky that once protected them had turned its back. And Sakaar could feel it in his bones—something had gone terribly, irreversibly wrong.