The march toward Mount Pleasant began in perfect formation: one hundred demons moving as a single shadow across the scorched land.
Their footsteps shook the ground in a steady rhythm, but beneath that rhythm… tension simmered.
Kanza of Mischief felt it.
He fed off it.
With a playful hop, he leapt onto a jagged hill overlooking the entire Century and spread his arms wide.
"Everyone!" he called out, voice ringing with mischief.
"If we want any chance of defeating Hunters — the legendary warriors who almost wiped out our kind — we need something we currently lack…"
He grinned.
"A Centurian."
A murmur rippled through the ranks.
Before anyone else could react, a tall demon stepped forward, chin high with pure arrogance.
"I announce myself as Centurian," said Nechi the Arrogant, voice dripping with superiority.
This was the same demon who had confidently declared to Lord Malusdel that he would deliver the Hunters' souls once the Sulphur Winds calmed.
Before applause or outrage could follow, someone else stepped out.
A demon with a massive spear strapped to his back, stance steady, eyes burning with ambition — but not pride.
"I refuse," said Murwi, the War Demon. "No demon inferior to me will command me. We do not need a leader. We are demons. We fight on instinct."
Some of the demons nodded, encouraged.
Murwi stood tall, shoulders squared. Everyone knew his dream:
To one day reach the Demon Warrior rank and battle the heavenly Powers on the front lines of the Second Heaven.
He trained endlessly consumed Souls, believing fate owed him glory.
Kanza tilted his head, pretending to be impressed.
"And do you honestly believe," Kanza said softly, "that we can defeat Hunters — the same Hunters who once made entire battalions of Warriors kneel — without a Centurian?"
Silence.
Kanza smiled wider.
"I nominate you, Murwi."
Murwi froze. His eyes widened slightly, not expecting the praise.
Before he could respond—
"As if I'd let that stand!" snapped Hutsi the Wretched, stepping forward while gripping his massive war hammer. "If there is going to be a Centurian, it will be me."
Another demon immediately shouted, "I should be Centurian!"
Then another.
And another.
Within moments, dozens of demons were declaring themselves the rightful leader.
Kanza's grin stretched ear to ear.
Exactly as he planned.
"Let the strongest claim the role," he whispered to himself.
And then—
The first strike fell.
What erupted next was a frenzy that would later be remembered as:
THEDEVILS' COUP
Demons lunged at each other with explosive bursts of power. Demonic Energy clashed like storm winds.
Murwi charged through the chaos, spear flashing with precise, powerful movements.
Every strike was decisive, clean, and brutally efficient — the mark of a demon who practiced for war, not ego.
Kanza danced through the madness with fluid speed, flicking his Soul Daggers with playful accuracy. Each throw shifted the battlefield, each strike calculated. He absorbed cores as casually as child might snack on candy.
Hutsi the Wretched fought like a one-demon army, sweeping his massive war hammer in wide arcs that sent opponents flying.
His raw strength carved entire paths through the crowd.
Demons fell.
Cores were taken.
Power shifted rapidly as the battlefield thinned.
Dozens…
Then twenty…
Then fifteen…
Finally, only ten demons remained standing — each more dangerous than before, their cores strengthened by the battle.
Then Kanza spoke
"Looks like the Century has died no Century no Centurian I guess let's continue on our journey."
The others gave a silent agreements.
These ten formed the surviving Contubernium comprised of
Kanza of Mischief
Nechi the Arrogant
Akaru the Righteous
War Demon Murwi
Hutsi the Wretched
Prince Mammo
Gwara the Cowardly
Ano the Deceitful
Ambitious Vava
.
Without another word, the Contubernium resumed their march — ten shadows heading toward Pleasant.