In the Hayes clan's forward base, the commander received what could almost be called "good news", a rare blessing in the brutal war against the Endless Abyss. His eyes lit up as he heard the words.

"Well done. Excellent work," he said, and then without hesitation, he threw on his uniform and hurried toward the Brain Eater team's quarters with his adjutant at his side.

When he finally stood before the sealed specimen and laid eyes on it directly, his breath caught. Even hardened by years of command, he could not mask his reaction.

"What a terrifying creature…" he whispered.

Within the layered seals, a four-armed demon glared at every Hayes soldier present, its scarlet eyes burning with the essence of chaos. From its mouth, poisonous whispers spilled forth, twisting through the air like smoke, luring the souls of those nearby.

Even a glance into those eyes made ordinary soldiers sway, their chests tightening as something gnawed at their hearts.

"Little thing… I can feel you…"

The demon spoke in demon tongue its voice coiled through the room the moment its gaze fell upon the commander. It spoke in a tongue like grinding iron, the commander had a slight shudder, and a chill came over his chest. His pale face reflected in its blood-red eyes.

"The fear buried in your soul… are you afraid?"

It mocked him with a low, almost playful laugh.

The commander forced himself to turn away, regaining composure by sheer will. His eyes snapped toward a member of the Brain Eater team, a man marked with the painted sigil of gears and books across his breastplate.

"What is it saying? Can we translate it with our instruments?"

In their mother world, magical translators were rare but not unheard of. With the right runes, most alien speech could be rendered into something comprehensible. Yet the scholar shook his head firmly.

"Apologies, Commander. We've tried. Its language seems protected by some kind of world law. No tool or spell we possess can break through."

The commander's frown deepened. "A world law that shields language? That should be impossible."

"Perhaps so," the man replied, expression grave. "But this is the truth. Even if we cannot understand its words, one thing is certain. This specimen is the most valuable prize we have secured since the invasion began. The aura within it doesn't belong to the world we marched into. It is wholly incompatible with the local order."

He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in.

"In other words, Commander, it truly comes from another world."

The commander's breath grew unsteady, yet beneath the shock, a surge of grim satisfaction welled within him.

"Can you confirm this with certainty?"

"Not yet. But once the specimen is transferred to the research institutes , whether the Academy of Sciences or the College of Alchemy…confirmation will be inevitable."

As their exchange ended, the base itself began to tremble. From the space channel at the far end, countless lights flickered to life. The sound of boots striking the earth in perfect rhythm followed.

Da-da-da.

An entire army marched through the rift. Their armor gleamed black, marked with crimson skulls across their chests. The very sight of their banners made the air feel heavy.

A hush swept the base. The Exterminators had arrived.

But before the awe could fade, a second channel flared. Another army stepped forth, their uniforms etched with bloody blades. Their eyes were wild, their movements disjointed, and their discipline was maintained not by will but by the chemicals burning in their veins.

The soldiers of the base froze and none dared raise their voice. Everyone knew these "madmen" the kind who were willing to turn even allies into corpses.

On the third channel, heavy alchemical machines thundered through, their hulks dented, blackened, and stained with dried blood. They looked like piles of rusted scrap, yet every soldier knew better. These were war-forged engines pulled from another battlefield, sent here without rest or repair.

The base filled with a silence more terrible than noise.

Then a fourth and fifth channel flickered open. The Legion of Great Scientists and the Legion of Magic Messengers stepped slowly into this world, weighed down by the strange instruments and arcane tools they carried.

The commander felt his throat tighten. Before him stood the combined force of multiple legions, a power not seen since the earliest days of invasion.

Beside him, the Brain Eater scholar gave a mirthless smile and gestured to his comrades, who began pushing the bound demon and other samples toward the waiting channels.

"Commander, your task is clear," the man said coldly. "You will find a way to lead these legions together. As for us, the Academy will see these specimens delivered safely to our world."

The commander gave a stiff nod, his body moving as if on instinct. His eyes, however, were drawn back to the demon.

Its scarlet gaze lingered not on him, but beyond, fixed on the channels themselves, on the faint outline of the mother world waiting beyond the gate.

And then it smiled.

The commander's frown deepened, a sinking feeling clawing at his heart.

"Why is it smiling?"

watching the four-armed demon being dragged toward the space channel, the thought struck him unbidden, and Within its warped, snarling face, its scarlet eyes were fixed not on the soldiers but on the mother world beyond the gate.

"What is it smiling at?"

Another chill ran down his spine. His heart whispered the answer before his mind could resist:

"Commander!" His adjutant rushed up, snapping him from his thoughts. "The officers of the Death Messengers, the Exterminators, and the Carcinoma Legion are assembled. They await your orders."

"I… I understand."

His voice was steady, but his face had lost all color, the three legions now stood ready, and two worlds still lay waiting to be conquered. He could not falter here.

With a long breath, he turned. Officers waited at a distance, watching him expectantly. He forced himself forward, each step heavier than the last.

And then..

That smile.p, the damnable smile. It flared again in his mind, searing itself into his thoughts. He staggered, his chest still tight.

"No…" His body jolted with sudden clarity. "I cannot let this thing into my world!"

He spun on his heel and sprinted toward the space channel.

Already, abyssal plants had been pushed through the gate. Samples of black earth followed, carried by armored teams. And now, the demon was about to cross.

"Stop!"

His roar shook the hall, and the Brain Eater team halted mid-stride.

"Do not send those samples! any of them! And not this demon!" His eyes burned as he shouted. "If we study them, we study them here, in this world. Nowhere else!"

The scholar with the sigil of gears and books frowned, his voice uncertain. "But sir… this world is unstable, and we lack the instruments. Without the proper facilities…"

"That is an order!" the commander barked. His voice carried like steel snapping. "By the authority of the Council of Elders, as supreme commander of the forward army, I forbid it. Nothing passes through!"

A dangerous light flickered in his violet-blue eyes. He looked like a beast cornered, ready to kill.

"As for safety, you may tell the Council that the Death Messengers and Exterminators are stationed here. We will hold the line. That is final."

The chamber went silent and soldiers stared, his words violated tradition, perhaps even reason. But his authority left no room for argument.

"Yes, Commander!" the scholar saluted sharply. One by one, the Brain Eater team abandoned the transport and filed into the channel, bound for the mother world with only their report.

The commander remained where he was, alone before the bound demon.

"I don't know why you smiled before," he muttered, voice low and cold. "But I swear this: you and the world behind you will never set foot in mine."

For the first time, there was no fear in his eyes.

The demon's lips twisted further, its scarlet gaze full of mockery, as it spoke in native tongue.

"Little thing… this is only the beginning."

Its laughter scraped against the commander's soul like knives.

He turned sharply, refusing to give it the satisfaction of a reaction. His boots echoed as he strode back toward his officers.

"Gentlemen," he said, his voice steady now, "our war has entered new ground. This world is no longer a battlefield between us and the natives alone. It has become something far worse."

He paused, letting the silence stretch.

"A three-way war. One world caught between two others, each preparing to annihilate the other."

⸻———x——————

Far away, in the dense jungles of that contested world, a boy crouched among the undergrowth. His tribe's warriors were dead, their priest crippled and now the burden of watching the invaders fell to him.

Through the leaves, he saw the spreading scars of the black earth, vast, tumor-like patches growing larger each day, swallowing the forest. Strange monsters prowled across the blight, the sight made his hands tremble.

The priest's warnings whispered in his ears: These demons steal souls. They are not to be fought but feared.

Yet when the boy looked further, past the blight, he saw alchemical machines and armored soldiers of the Hayes clan, beings who hurled bombs like curses, burning everything alive. To him, they were no better than demons.

His heart ached with hatred.

"It's time to go," he murmured. His gaze hardened, and he slipped back into the jungle.

The high priest who had come to visit their tribe had once spoken: Two great evils now clash upon our land. When they weaken each other, we will rise and then we will reclaim our home.

The thought sparked fire in the boy's chest, it had given him a trace of hope.

But when he returned to his tribe, the last priest gave a command that shattered that hope.

"We must abandon this place," the old man said, voice heavy with sorrow. "The gods demand it. We must journey to the larger tribes, to join them in preparing for the birth of the Supreme God. Our blood and bones will be his offering."

The tribe erupted in cries of disbelief.

"Abandon our homes?"

Yet the priest only lowered his head, his words final.

"This is what the gods have decreed."

In the shadow of clashing worlds, even the smallest tribes struggled, caught between obedience to their gods and the instinct to fight for their land. Their resistance, to greater powers, was laughable. Yet still they clung to it.

A struggle which seemed ridiculous… but not quite futile.

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