The capital city of this dark time, Ōkoku, was a town like others where the people lived their daily lives, but this was the night that everything would change.

Out at sea, a wooden fishing vessel bobbed gently under the moonlight. The fishermen aboard worked tirelessly, their calloused hands hauling in nets laden with the night's catch. Laughter and idle chatter filled the air, oblivious to the unnatural stillness that had settled over the sea—the dreadful calm before the storm.

On the deck, an old fisherman squinted, concern written over his weathered face as he scrutinized the distant shape above the sea. It appeared to be a massive wave at first, churning the sea ominously. But as it surged closer, his heart skipped a beat.

This was no wave.

Men scrambled across the deck to arm themselves, reaching for harpoons, nets, and anything that might serve as a weapon. The creature leading the tide charged lightning in its mouth while running across the water as if it were on land, firing the bolt out and setting the ship ablaze and leaping over the burning vessel and rushing into Ōkoku.

Destruction engulfed the city as the demons descended. Above, Winged abominations screeched, raining down torrents of flames that reduced buildings to ashes and filled the air with the stench of charred flesh.  Below, grotesque monsters rampaged unhindered, consuming the fleeing humans and leaving nothing but devastation in their wake.

Amidst the chaos, the commander of the demons made himself known.

"Such beautiful suffering, I can't believe it has finally come, to think I almost missed the end of the world. Such pure pure ecstasy." The commander's wings spread as he motioned for all the demons under his command to attack.

"The demons have shown themselves to the world, now we have no reason to hide ourselves. Kill as many as you can without worry of being spotted." A man's voice echoed through the heads of many.

A man stood on a roof with his rifle aimed at the lion-like beast that destroyed and killed those people at the harbor. He lined up his shot and took fire, sending the beast flying and crashing down dead.

A comrade of his wielded her Naginata to cut the legs off of one of the many giant demons before spinning around and slashing its head clean off.

Another warrior tossed his chain onto the wing of a flying demon, sinking the blade in. Using the momentum of the demon's flight, he launched himself into the air, slicing its back open to kill it in a single strike. It came down with a screech, crashing to the ground as the man landed on it.

These were the rays of hope that these citizens needed: allies who were just as powerful, if not more powerful, than the demons. So much so they could be considered demons themselves, but not just any demons.

These were The Fiends, Demons who kill Demons!

They came in full force following the orders from their capital, known as the Divine Mountain. They all stood together strong and with wills unbendable and emotions incorruptible, and with them came their captain. A warrior who graduated to the top of the Divine Mountain in mere weeks, a record unheard of by any Fiends known to record. Known as "The Tyrant Of The Battlefield," they called him a Warlord and One Of The Divine Mount's Greatest Fiends.

The mind is a fragile thing. One slip and the shattered pieces are so innumerable that reconstruction is impossible.

One such Theodore Chatwood is unfortunately very familiar with that sentiment. From a young age, frequent visions of horrid, incomprehensible beings plagued his mind, and it only became worse with time.

They speak in colors, whispering in ageless language... They wait in corners, watching intently. The world harbors much more than meets the blind eye.

Do not fret, though. Simply take the syringe. Hold your breath. Close your eyes. It will all be finished soon...

This story features suicide and loss of a loved one, including blood.