In the depths of the Abyss, surrounded by mountains of corpses, the Undead Demon King contemplated the news arriving through captured souls.

And then, he burst into laughter.

His voice thundered among the skeletons and necroliths surrounding him.

"At last!" he shouted, his green eyes blazing like hellfire. "A true warrior worthy of the name! A man who turns faith into power and dares to challenge the entire world!"

The shadows stirred behind him. A figure cloaked in darkness, with a thousand eyes shining like dead stars, materialized.

It was the god Ner'Zhaal, lord of eternal death.

His voice whispered into the Demon King's ears like venom:

"Do not underestimate him, but do not challenge him yet…

Obey my orders, my servants.

Prepare yourselves.

Because that human… that 'god of dreams'… will be the key to opening the end of times."

The Undead Demon King smiled, lowering his head.

Ambition burned in his eyes, but so did a spark of absolute obedience.

The entire continent trembled under war.

And the true game… had only just begun.

The entire continent burned with rumors.

The massacre of the eight disciples had marked a before and after.

For days, messengers crossed mountains and seas, carrying the same news: entire armies annihilated, heroes fallen, cities reduced to ashes.

The kings knew that if they didn't act soon, the entire continent would be devoured by the God of Dreams.

That's why an assembly was called in neutral territory.

Inside a hall carved into a mountain, under a ceiling engraved with ancient runes, the rulers gathered. Rulers who rarely left their thrones. Usually they only sent clones, but this time, they were all there in person, their real bodies radiating terrifying levels of power.

King Charles III of Soaring Dragon was present, sleepless, his face twisted by rage and fear.

The Lion King, massive, his mane like fire, paced restlessly, growling at every word he heard.

The Titan King, colossal and stone-like, sat in silence with crossed arms, like a mountain containing his fury.

The high elf kings whispered to one another in their ancient tongue, their eyes filled with doubt.

And in the shadows, even the Undead Demon King sent an avatar, a figure clad in black bones, watching without a word.

The discussion began.

"We can't keep losing armies," the Lion King growled. "That damn human hasn't even left his throne and he's erased our legions like garbage."

"His strength is limited to his territory," one of the high elves replied. "The disciples haven't left their lands. That gives us margin."

"Margin?" Charles III slammed the table, eyes wide. "My borders are empty! My cities burn! My own son-in-law was devoured on that cursed island! Talking about margin is stupidity!"

The Titan spoke, his voice shaking the walls:

"It's true… but if we rush in now, one by one, we'll fall just like our troops did."

Silence filled the hall. Everyone knew it.

Jax was too dangerous. His disciples, unstoppable.

If they didn't unite, they had no chance.

After hours of arguments, threats, and accusations, one inevitable conclusion came.

For the first time in centuries… the kings themselves would have to move.

The Lion King struck the ground with his claws, leaving deep marks.

"Then it's decided. We go to war ourselves."

Charles III closed his eyes, breathing deeply, as if signing his own death sentence.

"So be it."

The Titan rose, the entire hall trembling.

"If we fall… at least we'll fall like gods."

Even the Demon King's avatar smiled, showing blackened teeth.

"Yes… finally, a worthy spectacle."

The assembly ended.

The entire continent shivered when the news spread.

The kings, the most feared and powerful beings on earth, would march in person.

The war had reached a new level. More than a hundred kings.

Beasts, humans, demons, titans, elves, all leading their armies personally.

A sight never before seen in the history of the continent. The kings marched straight toward Jax's territory, unwilling to waste a second or allow him to grow stronger.

The sky darkened with banners, with dragon wings, with the flight of summoned creatures.

The earth shook with the weight of millions of soldiers, advancing like an unstoppable sea.

This time there would be no holding back, no negotiations.

They would crush the God of Dreams without giving him a breath.

Jax watched from his throne, with Seraphina at his feet.

When he saw the wave of power approaching, his order was clear:

"Withdraw."

Within hours, his armies vanished like smoke.

Villagers, merchants, warriors, priests—all fled without looking back.

The streets went empty, houses abandoned with doors open, fields left in silence.

The enemy advanced without resistance.

Too easy.

Charles III was the first to laugh with scorn.

"Cowards! They don't even dare face me head-on!"

The other kings felt the same.

They marched on, confident, certain victory was at hand.

Along the way, they began to see cities.

Each one filled with golden temples, giant statues gleaming under the sun.

An impossible wealth, entire mountains of treasure turned into sanctuaries.

But no one stopped.

Gold meant nothing compared to victory.

"Later," said the Lion King. "When we return, we'll melt down every temple, tear out every statue, and fill our coffers."

And so they kept marching.

Until they saw it.

A wall.

Not of stone.

Not of steel.

Of pure gold.

So vast, so imposing, their eyes couldn't take it all in.

The city it guarded was so massive it looked like an entire kingdom.

Golden towers touched the sky, walls shone with divine radiance, every detail seemed crafted not by mortal hands but by a god's will.

Silence seized the armies for a moment.

Even the kings, used to the impossible, doubted what they were seeing.

No one wanted to admit it, but the majesty of that place gave them chills.

The gold was real.

Too real.

And they all understood—the faith of millions had built that city.

The Lion King spat on the ground, trying to break the tension.

"Cheap illusions. Once we're done with Jax, all this will melt."

The armies marched on.

But as they moved forward, no one dared look too long at the statues guarding the path.

Because their faces seemed to smile.

Not empty expressions.

Smiles.

And their eyes… they moved, following with every step.

The Undead Demon King, wrapped in shadows, frowned.

Something bothered him.

A whisper in the air, an invisible weight only he could sense.

He stopped for a moment, staring at the statues.

But he saw nothing beyond the carved smiles.

He shook his head.

He didn't know exactly what was happening.

But his instincts told him something was hidden.

Something he shouldn't ignore.

And yet… he kept walking with the others.

The smiles on the statues grew wider.

As if waiting for the perfect moment to wake.

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