Buzzzzz—
The rift in sub-spacetime, forcefully torn open, pulsed with corruption and malice.
From within that gaping wound, countless twisted and grotesque figures poured forth—each dragging behind them a tide of whispering madness that clawed at the mind.
Their forms flickered between the real and the unreal, their crimson eyes burning with insatiable hunger for life and order.
They were the vanguard of the Abyssal Demons—and the Void Zerg.
"Abyssal demons! Zerg!"
On the fortress world's command platform, the elven king Losethy, robed in star-blue, rose from his throne in alarm. His face hardened, the weight of dread reflected in his eyes.
"The worst-case scenario… it's happened," he murmured. "And so suddenly. Abyssal demons and the Zerg… working together?"
"What lies behind this alliance? Can we even hold them off?"
A heavy shadow crept over his heart.
He had once fought minor skirmishes against the Abyssal demons in the ancient age—and he knew just how horrifying they truly were.
Now, to face both Abyssal demons and Void Zerg in a full-scale invasion… it was a nightmare beyond reason.
"Contact the Cosmic TMC immediately!" Losethy barked.
"Activate the highest-level emergency response! Broadcast to all member nations—the Apocalypse is upon us!"
"Yes, my lord!"
Woooo—Woooo—Woooo!
In Dalton Town, the horns of ultimate alarm blared across every street, every tower, every dome of light.
All movement stopped.
Every citizen froze where they stood and looked up toward the massive magical projection that filled the sky—a live feed of the horrifying breach unfolding in the stars.
At the city's highest spire, Leo looked up from his workbench and reluctantly set down his newly developed handheld game console.
His calm yet commanding voice reverberated through every corner of Dalton:
"All Dalton citizens of Eternal rank and above, assemble immediately.
Proceed to the K-77 Sub-Spatial Rift Zone and prepare to repel the Cataclysm."
The command was brief, absolute.
Those below that threshold had no place on that battlefield—sending them would only add to the death toll.
"By your command, President Leo!"
At once, Dalton Town transformed into a machine of war.
The air itself seemed to hum with disciplined violence.
From every fortress, tower, and street, beams of light shot skyward—warriors of Eternal rank soaring toward their assigned fleets.
The once-bustling streets fell eerily silent, save for the sound of the wind howling between steel spires.
The Mustering in the Void
In the emptiness beyond Dalton's orbit, a colossal formation had already assembled—a sight so overwhelming it seemed to crush the very fabric of space.
1.3 million Eternal-ranked warriors.
Not ordinary soldiers—but one point three million beings, each wielding the power to shatter worlds.
After decades of relentless growth, Dalton's foundations had expanded exponentially.
With a population base surpassing imagination, the empire had forged an army of gods through sheer scale and precision.
To grasp its meaning: On the old Aresia Continent, even one Eternal rank individual was a world-level existence, and now—Eternal rank was merely the minimum requirement to join this war.
Battle intent surged like fire, mingling with the hum of steel and magic until the entire void seemed to burn.
At the forefront stood their commander—Elizabeth, resplendent in her gold-and-blue uniform, her violet eyes shining like twin stars.
This was the Dalton Army, tempered by thirty years of unending warfare.
At its heart stood the original 300,000 Dalton Guardians, veterans who had survived oceans of blood and mountains of corpses.
Their gazes were razor-sharp, their auras dense enough to distort the space around them.
The remaining one million warriors—reborn through years of campaigns—stood ready, each clad in armor so exquisite it bordered on divine craftsmanship.
Their standard-issue plate shimmered faintly with the glow of Law-infused enchantments, their durability capable of withstanding legend-tier spell bombardments.
Their swords, staves, and bows were carved with layers of overlapping rune matrices, each one a fusion of arcane science and sacred design.
Across the entire known cosmos, there was no army that could rival Dalton's in single-combat strength or equipment.
Then, without sound, a shadow fell over one flank of the formation.
A second force had arrived—twenty thousand strong, clad in sharp-lined combat uniforms, each bearing a rune-forged blade pulsing with ominous energy.
The Dalton Black Guard.
Founded a decade ago, this elite corps answered only to Leo himself. At their head stood Reize, his aura fierce and untamed, his presence enough to make the air vibrate.
Through Leo's personal favor and the empire's resource support, these soldiers had become the apex predators of the Dalton military—their very existence radiating danger and dominance.
Moments later, a ripple in space heralded yet another arrival.
From the folds of shadow emerged two hundred thousand cloaked figures, each draped in black veils that seemed to blur them into the void itself.
It was the Hat Organization—Dalton's deadliest network of assassins and intelligence operatives, led by the ever-enigmatic Walter.
"Tch. That ghostly bastard Walter never changes," Reize muttered, baring his white teeth in a grin. Elizabeth only shook her head softly, a glint of trust in her eyes.
In a war of this scale, Hat's existence was indispensable.
"Generals! Wait for us!"
A chorus of shouts echoed as beams of light shot up from Dalton Town below.
One after another, powerful figures rose into the void—the core members of the Dalton Crusaders.
Among them were the venerable Lupotin and his elite guard, representatives from the Crossbridge Empire, the Dwarven Kingdom, and the Thunder Tower—a coalition of external powers now bound by Dalton's cause.
Each one possessed Eternal rank or higher.
By quick estimation, their number alone exceeded two hundred thousand.
The power of these once-independent civilizations had grown to awe-inspiring levels.
Elizabeth turned toward them, her expression solemn, her tone steady.
"Everyone… this expedition into the rift is a journey of no return.
The horrors of the Cataclysm are beyond imagination. Prepare yourselves—for death."
Lupotin stepped forward. His aged face was firm, his voice unwavering.
"President Leo granted us rebirth and honor. Dalton is our home!"
"And when the universe itself is in peril—how could we stand aside?""Even in death, we'll make those greedy beasts remember the name of Dalton!"
His words ignited the hearts of all. A thunderous roar followed, shaking the very void—a unified pledge to fight to the end.
In Dalton's allied worlds, this belief had become an unspoken law:
To shed blood for Dalton is to earn glory for generations. To die for Dalton is to lift one's entire family to paradise.
It was no wonder that every world now fought to send its brightest heroes to Dalton's ranks.
Many Eternal-level Crusaders who failed to qualify for this campaign could only watch in envy and regret.
Elizabeth's gaze shifted toward the Crusaders' Chief Advisor, Colt.
He was no longer the youthful boy from years past—his aura now radiated calm authority and tempered strength.
"Marshal," Colt declared, his hand pressed over his chest.
"The Crusaders stand ready—to open the way for Dalton, and for the entire universe!"
Elizabeth nodded slightly.
And then—
The void itself trembled.
A presence unlike any other swept across the mustering ground, vast and suffocating, as though an entire cosmos had turned its gaze upon them…