The sand in this desert had been forced to change color several times.

From the black and red of the abyss's corruption, to the yellow and green of the Hayes' death bombs, and now to the blue-purple stain of Hayes blood.

The desert had become a canvas, a painting board of earth, it was painted with blood and bone.

Across this battlefield, demon legions that arrived late tore through Hayes troops with ease. And their heavy weapons, which were once feared, were ripped apart like children's toys.

And the word "torn" was no metaphor. Bodies and machines alike were ripped apart in the most literal sense.

Gideon stood upon that stained ground, clutching a Hayes soldier who still clung to life, and laughed.

The soldier had been brave, brave enough to drive a knife into one of Gideon's countless eyes after watching dozens of comrades torn to shreds. But bravery had no meaning here.

His body now dangled in Gideon's grasp like a rag soaked in rot.

"Oh?… you cost me an eye,"

Gideon mocked in demon tongue, pointing at the bleeding wound on his own shoulder with a smile that froze the blood.

"Kill me…" the soldier rasped, his helmet shattered, his rat-like face twisted with terror.

"I don't understand your words," Gideon said with a laugh. "Perhaps it's a plea. Perhaps an apology. But don't worry, little cutie… I'm not angry. Because…"

He opened his great maw wide.

"…you will make up for what I lost."

A moment later, a new pair of eyes bloomed from Gideon's arm, wet and blue-purple. They darted wildly, their pupils flashing confusion, then terror, then disbelief until at last all emotion collapsed into despair.

The fate of those who fell into Gideon's hands was worse than death. They were met with torture without end and despair eternal.

⸻

At the Hayes forward base, the report reached the commander.

"Three legions, plus heavy support, wiped out within minutes after the gates appeared. No soul escaped. These creatures… they are not of this world."

The report carried images and recordings of screams, Hayes warriors torn, devoured, corrupted. The sounds and sights alone could drive a sane mind to madness.

But their commander was not sane. He was Hayes, his emotions drowned in chemicals and iron discipline. He read the data, processed it, and stood.

"…"

No one in the base needed words. Rumors had already spread, whispers of what came from the northwest. Soldiers saw fragments of truth through stolen transmissions. And even their chemical dampeners could not suppress the fear.

The enemy was not life. It was corruption made flesh.

And still, Hayes tradition demanded obedience. Fear or no fear, they awaited the commander's decision.

"We will not retreat," the commander said coldly. "We cannot. Too many resources have been spent to reach this world. Our own is almost bled dry. We must claim this one."

He turned to his adjutant.

"Send word back through the tunnel. Report that we've met resistance, creatures not of this world. Request reinforcement from Mother World."

"What forces should I ask for?" the adjutant pressed.

The commander's blue-purple eyes narrowed.

"Begin with the Death Messengers and the Exterminators. Follow with the Poisonous Boil heavy army. And call upon both special forces: the Great Scientist Legion and the Magic Power Messengers."

The adjutant froze, stunned, as did the rest of the command hall. Each one could shatter a world. Yet the commander demanded them all.

Raising his gaze, he fixed on a black star hanging in the heavens, faint against the dark sky.

"Where did these creatures come from?" he muttered. "Why do they wear such forms? Is there a portal here, leading not to this world but to another?"

The thought chilled him, yet filled him with greed.

"If so, then the value of this world is beyond imagining. Perhaps that passage leads to a stronger realm, rich in resources greater than anything we've ever known."

At the bottom of the Endless Abyss

"This is truly a strange creature…"

Cillian stood over the bodies of dozens of Hayes soldiers, his voice calm.

"According to the records, they can indeed be classified as a dark race."

Wisps of divine fire flickered from his fingertips and sank into the husk of a Hayes soldier, peeling apart its life force for him to study.

"Yet their structure is not the same as ordinary dark creatures," he murmured. "Their bloodline is stable enough to maintain form, but their organs… utterly deformed."

With a motion of his hand, an image of a twisted organ appeared before him.

"Their lungs and stomachs are mutated, warped beyond recognition. As if reshaped again and again." His eyes narrowed, divine fire glinting within them. "This kind of distortion only comes from surviving too long in a world poisoned by chemicals, drenched in radiation."

The soldier's lungs split open under his command, and the sight drew a frown to his face.

Inside was chaos. Tumorous tissue, dead veins, fragments of growth stacked upon growth. It looked like a lung in outline, but in truth it was an alien organ, one that had lost all sense of function.

"By reason, this thing should have failed long ago," Cillian muttered. "Even demons, in their chaos, preserve function over ruin. And yet…"

He recalled the Hayes warriors on the battlefield. They had fought with full strength, their breathing unbroken, their vigor undiminished.

The contradiction gnawed at him.

"Next, the brain and eyes."

With another wave, the images shifted, organs laid bare in divine fire. Unlike the lungs, they were uncorrupted, and untouched by distortion.

"Curious," Cillian whispered. "Their brains and eyes show no mutation at all. On the contrary, they are improved. Sharper vision, heightened intelligence. Protected by something… preserved deliberately."

His gaze hardened.

"If the other organs are the scars of their world, then the mind and sight are the mark of intervention. Someone…something…used cursed magic to shield them. But why?"

He paused, staring at the hovering organs. "What kind of being hides behind these ratmen, binding their souls and preserving only the pieces it needs?"

At last, he drew forth the soldier's soul, a fragile spark clinging to form.

"Ignite."

The divine fire surged, consuming it whole. When the flames died, only a single thread remained, faint and gray, quivering in the air.

Cillian reached and pinched it between his fingers.

Inside, he felt traces of divinity. It was the unmistakable signature of a god. A brand stamped deep in the soul.

"A mark," Cillian said. "The trademark of a god."

The realization chilled him more than he cared to admit.

"Inside this hidden world… a god evolved naturally? And not weak at least a mid-level god?"

His fist tightened around the thread until it burned away.

⸻

Far above, on the black earth of the battlefield

"No retreat!"

"We hold until the B.E.S makes it back to base!"

"Fire! Fire!"

A Hayes officer stood tall, magic grenade launcher raised high, rallying the regiment at his back. Explosions tore through the ranks of lesser demons, blasting them apart in clouds of gore. Even mid-ranked monsters faltered under the blasts, their bodies broken.

But the officer's eyes were not on the carnage. His gaze fixed instead on a unit unlike the others.

They did not look like soldiers at all. Their armor was lined with strange instruments, their movements measured and exact. A fusion of scientist, mage, alchemist, and priest.

The Brain Eater Squad.

At that moment, they wrestled a howling, four-armed demon—pinned inside a sealing circle onto the bed of a massive transport. Their destination: the forward base, hundreds of kilometers away.

And they were not alone. Across the black earth, convoys of vehicles roared back toward Hayes lines, each carrying spoils, captured demons, abyssal plants, corrupted soil, and fragments of twisted weapons.

Cillian was not the only one dissecting the nature of this war.

The Hayes, too, sought answers. Their officers, scientists, and magi fought not only to kill, but to understand. To weaponize and tame the Endless Abyss itself.

This wasn't just a clash of armies.

It was a struggle of worlds.

And a game between gods.

A battered heavy vehicle roared toward the Hayes clan's forward base, its engines strained to their limits.

The metal plating, forged from layers of alchemical steel, was scarred and corroded, Every dent and burn told the story of a desperate retreat through the battlefield.

Dozens of Hayes soldiers had given their lives to shield its path, their blood spilled so that the cargo could arrive intact. Their sacrifice was not in vain. Inside the armored hull lay the prize of their struggle, an Original demon, dragged screaming from the front lines and preserved as a living specimen.

At the base, alarms echoed as the gates opened to receive it. The vehicle thundered in, brakes screeching, before grinding to a halt. Smoke hissed from its vents, mixing with the acrid scent of oil and charred flesh.

Moments later, a young lieutenant burst into the commander's quarters, breathless with urgency. He snapped a salute, voice ringing with both relief and dread.

"Commander! The Brain Eater team has returned!"

The commander, still hunched over a war map littered with markers and glowing runes, slowly raised his head. His gaze hardened as the lieutenant continued, each word heavy with significance.

"They succeeded. A biological specimen from the hostile world has been secured."

The lieutenants gaze shifted and his jaw tightened

"Legendary strength," the lieutenant whispered.

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