THE DEMONIC DIVINE WARRIORS
The battlefield did not explode.
It bowed.
A deep, unnatural vibration rippled through the broken land, as if the Omniverse itself had recognized something it had tried to forget.
The sky fractured into layers—realms overlapping, timelines trembling. The Executors, once absolute in their judgment, froze mid-motion.
Not because of fear.
Because of instinct.
They knew this presence.
They had been created to stop it.
Ancient symbols ignited beneath the feet of Zento, Shadow Xenon, Reflexo, Kaiser, and Renox.
Not magic circles.
Seals.
Thousands of them.
Chains made of forgotten laws shattered one by one, echoing like bells across existence.
A voice—not loud, not angry—ancient and tired spoke from everywhere at once:
"The first rulers awaken."
"The unjustified rise again."
The ground split open—not violently, but deliberately.
From beneath each member of the team, armor began to form.
Not metal.
Not energy.
Concepts given shape.
ZENTO
Golden-black plates wrapped around his body, engraved with broken crowns and shattered suns. His eyes burned with memory, not rage—but truth.
He staggered, clutching his chest.
"This power…"
"It doesn't ask permission."
His voice cracked as memories flooded in—worlds kneeling, gods screaming, a throne abandoned by choice, not defeat.
"We ruled before justice existed."
REFLEXO
Silver-violet armor snapped into place, sharp and fluid, reacting to every thought. His broken mask reformed—not hiding his face, but erasing identity.
"So this is why I never felt complete,"
he muttered.
Time itself seemed to hesitate around him.
"I wasn't meant to follow fate."
KAISER
Crimson-black armor erupted outward, etched with battle scars older than stars. His rage no longer burned wildly—it compressed, becoming terrifyingly controlled.
He laughed softly.
"No limits…"
"No forgiveness…"
His fists trembled—not from weakness.
From restraint.
RENOX
Obsidian armor wrapped around him like a living shadow, veins of deep violet pulsing violently. His breathing grew heavy, rage threatening to tear him apart.
"They sealed us…"
"And called it peace."
His eyes glowed with hatred—not personal.
Historical.
And then—
SHADOW XENON
The air collapsed inward.
His armor did not form.
It manifested.
A flawless fusion of black void and royal purple, flowing like a cloak and striking like judgment. His mask reshaped into something ancient—simple, terrifying.
No crown.
No symbol.
Because he never needed one.
The aura around him was calm.
Too calm.
"So this is how it ends,"
he said quietly.
The cuts on his body faded—not healed, not erased—acknowledged.
"The Demonic Divine Warriors…"
"Unjustified. Unforgivable."
He looked at the Executors.
"Unstoppable."
The ancient voice returned—clearer now.
"You were sealed not because you were evil…"
"But because you could not be controlled."
The Executors finally moved—stepping back.
One spoke, voice strained for the first time.
"Demonic Divine Warriors…
First rulers of the Omniverse…
Infinite potential…
No moral constraint…"
Another added:
"They cannot be judged."
Zento clenched his fists.
The power surged violently, threatening to consume him.
"Then tell me,"
he roared, voice echoing across realms,
"WHY DID YOU KILL EVERYONE?!"
The answer was cold.
"Because order requires sacrifice."
Something snapped.
The team's auras erupted.
Not separate.
Unified.
The battlefield transformed—not repaired, not restored—but claimed.
Reality bent.
Executors were thrown back without being touched.
Shadow Xenon stepped forward.
"Listen carefully,"
he said, voice calm enough to terrify gods.
"You don't get to decide what justice costs."
His blade hummed—not with energy, but finality.
"We were sealed because we refused to kneel."
He pointed the blade at the Executors.
"And now… we rage."
The Demonic Divine Armors burned brighter.
Power continued to rise.
No ceiling.
No limiter.
No end.
The Omniverse itself began to crack under the pressure of their awakening.
And far above—
The Real Gods, Goddesses, and Divine Knights watched in silence.
Because they remembered.
This was not a rebellion.
This was history correcting itself.