MIGHT AS WELL BE OP

Hearts thundered against ribcages, pupils dilated like widening voids, and a frigid chill danced down every spine. Eyes stretched wide in unspoken horror. The soldiers of Military Base Alpha-6 stood frozen in grim silence, the Aetherlock, their final beacon of hope, had crumbled into ruin.

But there was no time for reflection, no space for despair. Thought was a luxury they could not afford. The mission remained unchanged, its directive etched into their very marrow: kill, kill, kill, kill… win. That was all that mattered at the moment.

From above, where countless demonic aircraft loomed like shadows blotting out the sky, hatches hissed open, and from them, waves of demons descended.

Some plummeted recklessly, uncaring of their inability to fly. Others soared forward on wings of chaos, shrieking through the air, while the rest roared in madness, a storm of fury and bloodlust. Together, they surged toward their target, the military base, like a ravenous swarm of ants converging on spilled sugar.

Millions of soldiers stood momentarily in a daze, but in the very next breath, their gazes sharpened, resolve solidified, auras ignited. War cries tore from their throats like thunder.

Bodies crouched low, mana surged, spiritual energy rippled outward, and blood energy howled through veins. Muscles tensed, then, in unison, they launched from the ground toward the oncoming horde.

The enemy's numbers were irrelevant. Every last one would fall to the blade.

Then, without warning, the sky tore open once more. Numerous portals bloomed like wounds in the heavens, and from them, abominations spilled forth, twisted echoes of nightmare and death.

But before the soldiers could even clash with the demons and abominations, a crushing presence descended, from nowhere and everywhere at once.

It swept through the entire base like a tidal surge, suffocating and immense, threatening to consume all who dared move beneath its weight. Every living being froze in place, human, elf, demon, or abomination, it mattered not. Before true power, all would bow.

Heads snapped upward as a figure materialized in the sky, but it wasn't just one. No, there were seven in total. They stood side by side, suspended in the heavens, their presences calm yet overwhelming, radiating a power so absolute it chilled the soul.

They were the Seven Grand Marshals.

Grand Marshal Alaric's gaze locked onto the demonic aircraft, and in an instant, they detonated in a synchronized inferno, lighting the sky like celebratory fireworks on a blood-stained holiday.

Beside him, the Grand Marshal Vampire cast her eyes upon the horde below. With a single blink, the demons and abominations burst apart, erupting from within.

Blood rained from the sky like a divine offering from a war god. Even the abominations still pouring from the portals were granted no mercy; the moment they crossed into the military base, they exploded into grotesque showers of flesh.

With nothing but a glance and a blink, two Grand Marshals had annihilated an entire demon army. This was power beyond comprehension, power that transcended even the Exarch Rank.

"No need to hide. I see you, Azrakar" the Grand Marshal Titan spoke, his voice booming across the vast expanse of the military base like a divine decree.

In an instant, space itself folded inward, then shattered, as a figure stepped forth from the collapse. He bore a horn curling from each temple, framing a face disturbingly perfect in its human likeness.

A sleek black tail, sharper and deadlier than any whip forged by man or magic, swayed behind him with quiet menace. A massive broadsword rested across his back, less a weapon and more a battle-worn companion.

"It's been a while, Titan" Azrakar said with a smile, his voice smooth, casualm, almost friendly. His teeth glinted as if he were greeting an old comrade rather than standing at the edge of war.

Azrakar's aura radiated calmness, gentle, almost playful, a peace that seemed alien to demons. Yet beneath that serene facade lurked an undeniable menace. After all, this was the man who had forced the Grand Marshals to reveal themselves.

"Come on, Titan" Azrakar's voice softened, a teasing warmth threading through his words. "At least smile a little. It's been twenty years since we last met. Though, I suppose that's but a blink to beings like us, yet my heart aches all the same"

His gaze locked onto the Grand Marshal Titan, deliberately ignoring the others as if they were mere background noise, and in truth, they were, as other demons would deal with them.

The space behind Azrakar convulsed and folded as portals tore open, six figures stepping through the rifts. They were the companions of Azrakar, no playful ease in their bearing, no calm in their aura, no trace of peace. Their presence screamed of one truth: they were incarnations of bloodshed itself.

"Haaa… it seems words are done, Titan" Azrakar said, his tone shifting as his gaze settled on the newly arrived. "The rest have arrived"

"Azrakar, why haven't you attacked yet? This isn't one of your games. We have orders from the Demon Monarch" one of the newly arrived figures spoke, her tone sharp and laced with murderous intent.

Azrakar's gaze sharpened at the mention of the Demon Monarch. With a slow sigh, he spoke to the Grand Marshal Titan once more, "Just give me the Severed Crown of Echoes, and we will leave this place. That is our mission. You can spare yourselves the bloodshed of your soldiers"

He spoke calmly, as if negotiating rather than threatening. Unlike the finite beings of the Blue Planet, demons and abominations were nearly infinite, no matter how many you killed, they always, without fail, multiplied and replaced themselves in overwhelming numbers.

Demons cared for nothing beyond themselves. Love, loyalty, honesty, concepts alien to their kind. Those on Azrakar's level bowed only to beings like the Demon Monarch out of necessity, weakness masking ambition. The moment they surpassed their master's power, the Demon Monarch's head would fall. Such was the brutal hierarchy of the Demon Race.

"There's nothing here to discuss" the Grand Marshal Elf declared, Spiritual Energy coalescing instantly in the palm of his hand.

"Indeed" Azrakar replied coolly, his hand rising slowly as he drew the massive broadsword from his back each deliberate movement tightening the tension between them like a drawn bowstring.

The weaker beings below dared not move; it was the powerful who spoke, and none would act unless these titans began the battle.

Then, the silence shattered. The Grand Marshal Elf unleashed a beam of pure Spiritual Energy, cutting through the air with blinding speed and searing intensity, aimed directly at Azrakar's group.

But Azrakar and his companions did not stand idle. Their chaotic energy flared fiercely as their bodies surged forward, narrowly evading the devastating strike.

Seizing the moment, the lesser demons below roared back into the fray, their bloodlust reignited with renewed fury.

The carnage escalated, ferocious and unrelenting. Only those at the Grand Marshal level could survive the shockwaves that rippled outward from each clash, forcing weaker powerhouses to cower and ground themselves.