It was unmistakable—an army of Hell.
But its appearance made no sense.
To teleport such an enormous force directly from the infernal realms to the world of Terra should have been impossible. The energy required would have drained an entire Layer of Hell dry. No sane commander would attempt it.
What Vlad and the others did not yet know was that, only days earlier, the powers of Hell had conquered a nearby world—a desolate sphere whose spiritual boundary now brushed against Terra's own. Using that ruined planet as a bridge, they had torn open the veil of reality and launched their invasion.
There was no time to speculate, no time for theory or hesitation. The threat was here. The enemy was descending.
They reacted instantly.
Jormungandr, Freya, Ouroboros, and Fafnir transformed into beams of psychic energy, their essences merging with Vlad's soul. Six dark wings erupted from his back, each one carved from dark plasma and lightning.
