LOCATION: SHORES OF THE RIFT CONTINENT—HOME OF THE FIRST ONES KINGDOM.
Sand and stone churned violently beneath the wrath of the heavens, lifted skyward by monstrous gales that swept across the Continent's shoreline.
Towering storms of debris devoured the coast whole, swallowing the beaches beneath walls of dust and fractured earth.
The blood-red heavens groaned beneath the fury of the tempest as giant spears of radiant golden lightning plunged toward the sea, cleaving through crashing waves and gouging enormous trenches into the ocean itself.
High above the shores hovered hundreds of figures draped in yellow cloaks whose folds rippled through the storm like banners.
Intricate white-and-orange runes shimmered across the fabric, glowing with a sacred brilliance that rivaled the lightning surrounding them.
They belonged to the beastfolk—the blessed descendants of mankind whose blood had been forever intertwined with the divine creations of all-loving Titan of the Sun—Rickarf.
The god had shaped countless beasts with his own perfect hands before granting fragments of their majesty to humanity itself.
Fox ears twitched amongst the gathering winds. Wolf tails lashed through the air. Oxen horns stood proudly above solemn faces while draconic scales gleamed beneath the flashing sky.
Others possessed the regal tails of Palekhákarl, the vigilant Yjotsköttir, the mighty Jahu-Dreki, and numerous other animals born from Rickarf's flawless palms.
These people were the Dýr Mages.
One after another, silver staffs rose toward sky. Their polished shafts revolved through practiced motions, drawing in white sparks from the surrounding air until the coast glittered beneath what appeared to be an entire constellation.
The tiny lights multiplied without end before hardening into brilliant chains.
Clink.
Every Dýr Mage brought their staff crashing downward.
The glimmering restraints screamed across the battlefield, plunging toward the lone figure waiting far below.
The chains wrapped themselves around him like starving serpents, constricting every limb.
The links coiled tighter and tighter, attempting to crush flesh, bone, and spirit beneath Rickarf's holy judgment.
Yet the man never moved.
He remained crouched within the sand, his head lowered beneath the storm while pale dust whipped violently around his milk-white face.
Long, unkempt orange hair spilled far beyond his shoulders in wild, uneven layers, thrashing beside a deep crimson mantle lined with pitch-black lion fur.
Snow-white gloves clung tightly around scarred hands now drenched in blood—the blood of countless Dýr Mages who had already fallen before him… and his own alike.
A thick rope of dark-brown braid had been wound securely around his waist, fastening two polished silver baselard daggers against his side.
Around his scarred neck rested a broad leather collar black as burnt ash, concealing a hideous wound carved so deeply into his throat that even now faint lavender light seeped from between its ragged edges.
It was the final, lingering remnant of the savage strike that had nearly claimed his life.
His shredded gray surcoat billowed against the wind, revealing the rugged obsidian armor beneath. Fastened proudly across his chest gleamed a silver crest shaped into the image of a burning skull.
Then there were his eyes.
Something about them was profoundly wrong.
They were unnatural.
Utterly uncanny.
Each iris carried a different destiny.
His right eye glowed with the icy azure of a stalking lion, silent and unwavering.
A brilliant white star suspended at its center that drifted almost imperceptibly with every subtle movement.
His left eye burned with radiant gold, its pupil split by a vertical abyss-black slit that transformed it into the gaze of a merciless viper—a predator that had never once understood restraint.
And resting above that impossible stare…
Sat a crooked crown forged from tarnished gold.
Its jagged points twisted toward the sky like the fangs of an ancient tyrant.
Each sharpened edge gleamed beneath the heavens as though the crown itself still hungered for another kingdom to conquer.
That crown… belonged to the most ruthless and beastly sovereign the Realm of Rage had ever known.
The crown of the man who stood alone against multiple First Ones' legions during the Third Ageless War.
The crown of the warrior who crossed blades with the Primal Bane of the Realm of Rage—the Scarlet Scourge of Yexdale himself, King Valbrager—when he was only nineteen years old.
The crown of the man personally chosen by the Ageless Brain to stand amongst His Ten Champions of Hellfire.
No mere relic.
No ordinary symbol of royalty.
It was the crooked throne of absolute anarchy itself.
The crown belonged to none other than the young Emperor of the Hell Raiser Kingdom.
The Son of Absolute Anarchy.
HATUN NINA!!!
Hatun Nina: "Damn! Loosen up on the chains, will ya?!"
The Emperor exploded free.
Every sacred shackle ruptured apart beneath the sudden eruption of strength as a monstrous shockwave burst from his body. It tore across the shores, effortlessly launching the remaining Dýr Mages through the feral breeze like brittle leaves caught inside a hurricane.
A savage grin stretched across Hatun's pale face.
His gloved hands tightened around the braided rope at his waist before he ripped free the two enormous baselard daggers secured there, lazily twirling them through his fingers as though they weighed nothing at all.
Riaker.
Crosix.
The legendary Blessed Tools of Hell's Victor.
The Dýr Mages halted their flight almost immediately.
Their flowing yellow cloaks whipped violently behind them as dozens of silver staffs snapped toward the emperor in perfect unison.
Brilliant infernos blossomed from every polished tip before converging into a relentless barrage of fire.
The shoreline disappeared beneath the bombardment.
Towering explosions erupted one after another across the coast, hurling molten stone, burning sand, and rivers of black ash high into the screaming heavens.
Massive pillars of smoke slowly swallowed the battlefield whole.
Then something cut through them.
Two gigantic silver cleavers.
They carved through every rising column of smoke, spiraling through the blazing air before Hatun launched from beneath the inferno itself.
He soared upward like a beast escaping the mouth of a volcano as Riaker and Crosix spun neatly back into his waiting hands.
His mismatched eyes swept across the battlefield wildly.
The instant they locked onto the Dýr Mages…
The Dýr Mages found him.
Their staffs shifted once more.
Dozens of fresh beams of roaring fire surged toward the emperor as he began descend from above.
Hatun merely sighed.
Hatun: "Hey, now. You keep rushing me like this and I might accidentally break that precious necklace of yours."
He slammed into the shattered shoreline hard enough to shake the surrounding cliffs before casually rolling his shoulders, utterly unfazed by the rain of destruction crashing around him.
His gloved hand disappeared beneath his torn surcoat.
When it emerged…
It carried a marvelous necklace fashioned entirely from tiny shards of polished amethyst.
The countless violet crystals shimmered beautifully beneath the bloody sky, their heavenly radiance washing over one side of Hatun's face in soft lavender light.
He admired it with childlike curiosity.
Hatun: "Pretty… pretty, right?"
An enraged roar answered him.
One of the Dýr Mages folded his staff away before diving headfirst toward the ground, crashing into the ruined ground with a sickening impact.
Hatun raised a curious eyebrow.
The mage's body convulsed.
His spine arched violently.
Muscles expanded beneath tearing flesh as his flowing cloak exploded into ribbons. Thick dark-brown fur erupted across his rapidly enlarging limbs while his jaw stretched outward, rows of human teeth lengthening into beastly canines capable of crushing steel.
Within moments…
The man had vanished.
Standing where he once knelt was an enormous Tiberfjall Wolf, its gigantic frame coated in dense dark fur while brilliant sapphire eyes glowed with ravenous bloodlust.
The beast lowered its head.
A deep growl rolled from its chest.
Hatun's grin somehow widened even further.
Hatun: "Look who's dying for a tussle! All this over some necklace? Now I really wanna find out what this thing does."
The beast lunged without hesitation, rows of savage fangs bared as it sought to tear Hatun apart in a single bite.
It caught nothing.
The Emperor vanished.
Before the wolf's instincts could even comprehend where its prey had disappeared to, Hatun had already reappeared behind the colossal creature, driving his heel violently into its hind ankle.
Crunch.
Bone splintered beneath the impact.
The Tiberfjall Wolf collapsed, immediately whipping its enormous head around—only to find Hatun casually standing atop its broad, fur-covered back.
Without the slightest pause, Riaker plunged deep into the beast's flesh.
Hatun laughed like a lunatic as he savagely raked the enormous dagger backward, carving a gruesome trench from shoulder to spine. Crimson blood exploded skyward alongside steaming entrails, painting the blackened sand while the wolf released a howl so agonizing it seemed capable of splitting the heavens themselves.
Driven mad by pain, the beast swung wildly behind itself, giant claws ripping through nothing but empty air.
Hatun had already disappeared.
The wolf slowly turned.
Several paces away, the Hell Raiser Emperor sat cross-legged upon the ruined shore, lazily resting his cheek against his palm.
That speed…
It transcended reason.
The infernal aura pouring from Hatun seemed to poison the very atmosphere itself. Every breath became heavier than the last, as though the region had forgotten how to produce air.
Hatun chuckled.
Hatun: "Wanna know something exciting?"
He raised a single finger.
Hatun: "Millions of years ago… during the First Era of the Realm of Rage… the skies used to bleed."
The gigantic wolf narrowed its eyes before cautiously retreating another step.
Hatun leaned forward ever so slightly. His voice dropped into a conspiratorial whisper.
Hatun: "Know what they bled? Heh… you won't believe me."
His scarlet mantle unfurled behind him as the sea winds howled across the coast. Slowly, he clasped his hands together and tilted his head with childlike excitement.
Hatun: "That's why I'll just show you."
Click.
Riaker.
Crosix.
The legendary cleavers tore themselves free from the scorched earth before levitating above their master, slowly spinning through the air.
Invisible hands began inscribing strange blood-red runes across the daggers' gleaming silver steel, each ancient symbol etching itself into the weapons with supernatural precision.
When the final rune was completed…
Something answered.
The message raced through the eternal veins beneath the Realm of Rage itself.
Hatun spread both arms wide, wearing the innocent smile of a child presenting a handmade gift.
Above him, Riaker and Crosix accelerated faster and faster until they became little more than crimson circles. Scarlet smoke erupted from their spinning blades, climbing toward the sky in a towering pillar before twisting into a vast dark-vermillion cloud.
Hatun: "…Sprout."
The heavens erupted.
Dozens upon dozens of colossal lances forged from pure molten lava burst from the demonic cloud, crashing toward the shoreline like divine judgments cast by forgotten gods.
The Tiberfjall Wolf shrieked in absolute terror before the blazing pillars skewered straight through its enormous body, reducing flesh, bone, and blood to smoldering ruin.
It was as if the mighty predator were no sturdier than wet parchment beneath a blade.
The surviving Dýr Mages scattered immediately.
Some unfurled gray feathered wings, carrying their wounded brethren into the burning skies as rivers of molten stone consumed the battlefield below.
Leading the desperate retreat was their Alpha Sister.
Norn Vastaya.
The violent winds ripped back her yellow hood, revealing flowing dark-brown hair cascading behind porcelain skin. One exhausted mage clung desperately to her back while another grasped her trembling hand below.
Determination still burned across her face. Though fear burned brighter.
She looked back—
Hatun: "Over here!"
SNAP!
His fist buried itself deep within her stomach.
The impact detonated across the shoreline.
Blood erupted from Norn's mouth in a violent crimson torrent as her body crashed into the coast hard enough to shatter the blackened earth beneath her.
How…
How had he crossed that distance?
She rolled onto her back, desperately clutching her abdomen while every breath scraped painfully through her lungs.
Slowly…
She turned her head.
The world stopped.
Her fellow Dýr Mages no longer filled the skies.
They littered the ruined beach instead.
Silent.
Motionless.
Their broken bodies floated within newborn rivers of lava, flesh dissolving beneath the relentless heat until even their screams had dissipated.
Her family… was gone.
Hatun scratched the back of his neck.
Hatun: "Woah! Didn't mean to hit you guys that hard. No hard feelings, right?"
Norn slowly lifted her trembling gaze. Hatun was already crouching beside her.
Still smiling.
Still relaxed.
Still…
Playing.
Her fists tightened until blood seeped between her fingers.
Norn: "Y-You're… joking?"
Hatun blinked.
Hatun: "Hm? Joking? Nah, I don't think I am."
He rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
Hatun: "Although… this whole thing is pretty fu—"
Norn's scream drowned him out.
She lunged forward, seizing the Emperor by both shoulders as her face violently reshaped itself. Golden fur erupted across her features as her human head transformed into that of a ferocious Yjotsköttir.
Hatun slipped free before her claws could close, skidding effortlessly across the ocean's surface as though the sea itself had become solid ground beneath his boots.
Laughing, the Emperor sprinted across the rolling waves.
Without a moment's hesitation, Norn plunged beneath the dark waters.
Her body twisted.
Expanding.
Mutating.
Until an enormous, savage Palekhákarl surged through the depths, racing after Hell's Legendary Victor like a primordial beast awakened from the abyss.
Hatun halted abruptly.
The Emperor spun on his heel just as the Palekhákarl exploded from the sea behind him, rows of monstrous teeth bared wide enough to devour a horse whole.
A wall of seawater crashed across Hatun's face, making him chuckle.
He the thrust out his bare hands, catching the gigantic predator by its jaws, forcing the snapping maw to halt mere inches from his face as he casually skidded backward across the water's surface.
Hatun snapped his fingers, calling upon Crosix.
The dagger tore through the air before slamming into his waiting palm, and without hesitation, he drove the blade deep into the beast's exposed gills repeatedly.
The Palekhákarl shrieked.
Dark blood flooded the surrounding sea as the wounded leviathan recoiled beneath the waves, vanishing into the water before erupting from an entirely different direction.
Its massive tail swept toward the Emperor, but Hatun simply caught it.
Before she could comprehend what he was doing, he leaned forward and buried his teeth into the creature's slick flesh like a starving beast.
Norn screamed.
Her mutated form dissolved in an instant as she returned to her human body, desperately wrenching her mangled leg free from Hatun's jaws.
Hatun lunged.
The pair crashed violently into the sea, disappearing beneath the dark water as Hatun's fingers wrapped tightly around Norn's throat.
His fist descended.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Each punch detonated underwater with explosive force, battering her face until the surrounding ocean turned crimson.
His raw strength… was beyond overwhelming.
Every strike threatened to steal consciousness itself.
Through blurred vision, Norn clenched her jaw. She planted both feet against Hatun's armored chest, unleashing a devastating kick that launched him skyward like a meteor.
Water exploded beneath him as his body tore upward through the crimson heavens.
Norn burst after him.
Wings sprouted from her back as she rocketed through the sky, closing the distance within moments before slamming shoulder-first into the Emperor.
Her claws flashed, tearing A deep crimson gash open across Hatun's arm.
The force hurled him through drifting clouds and scattered entire flocks of screeching crows.
Hatun: "So fierce! Is this about your dead friends? I thought there were no hard feelings!"
He lazily lifted the injured arm.
Immediately, glittering sheets of crystalline ice spread across the wound, sealing torn flesh beneath mesmerizing layers of shimmering white—the same eternal winter that had once swallowed the Realm of Rage during the Fourth Era.
Norn refused to relent.
She intercepted him before he could reach the shoreline, driving a vicious elbow into the side of his neck.
Both warriors plummeted together.
The coastline erupted beneath them.
Towering walls of black sand burst upward as countless shockwaves rolled across the shores.
Without wasting a heartbeat, Norn plunged both hands into Hatun's shredded surcoat, frantically searching for the amethyst necklace while blood streamed down her brow.
Hatun quietly watched her, slowly lifting a finger toward her forehead with an amused smile.
Hatun: "Boop."
Hundreds of carnivorous vines burst from the fractured earth, their massive thorn-covered bodies erupting from the sand like ancient predators awakening from hibernation. The grotesque plants coiled around Norn's limbs before violently tearing her away from Hatun.
Their jaws opened.
Rows of needle-like teeth buried themselves into her flesh, pumping lethal toxins into her veins through every bite.
These abominations had once ruled the Third Era of the Realm of Rage, feasting upon anything reckless enough to wander into their endless forests.
Norn thrashed desperately, but every movement only tightened the vines' grip.
Hatun completely lost it.
He rolled across the ground while clutching his stomach, laughing so hard tears began to spill from his eyes.
Hatun: "Fucking gods! Ahahahahahaha! Why are you people so OBSESSED with this pathetic necklace?!"
He snapped his fingers while wheezing, forcing hundreds more carnivorous vines to explode from the earth.
Within moments, Norn's body had disappeared beneath the writhing sea of living vegetation.
Only her face remained visible.
Norn: "You foul BASTARD! Give it back! Give it back or I swear I'll—!"
Boop.
Norn's head separated from her shoulders in one impossibly clean stroke.
A towering geyser of crimson erupted from her neck while the hungry vines dragged the remainder of her body beneath their tangled mass, devouring flesh and bone without leaving so much as a trace behind.
Hatun scratched the side of his neck.
Hatun: "Huh?"
His mismatched eyes suddenly widened, staring up at the descending shadow above him.
An enormous woman fell from the crimson heavens like a falling fortress, crashing into the coast with enough force to launch waves of stone and sand across the battlefield.
For the first time since the battle began, Hatun looked genuinely surprised.
Then, within in mere moments, his entire face lit up with pure, absolute happiness.
Hatun: "SEFA!"
The Empress of the Hell Raiser Kingdom.
Madame Gargoyle.
The undisputed Master of the Helldrick Colosseum.
Sefa Nokina.
Sefa: "Shhhh. Not so loud, beloved. You know I have sensitive ears…"
Short, voluminous curls of midnight-black hair danced gently in the sea breeze, framing Sefa's rich deep-brown complexion with effortless elegance.
Her haunting light-pink irises resembled the fading petals of dying roses.
Soft and beautiful, yet somehow capable of staring straight through the soul itself.
She wore a pristine wedding gown of stunning snow-white silk, its elegant sweetheart corset plunging gracefully before flowing into layers of intricately woven lace and delicate filigree.
It was, without question…
Her greatest treasure.
A gift from the only man she had ever loved.
Her first.
Her last.
Fresh crimson blood stained the once-pure fabric in countless places, while tears and weathered scars marked the beloved dress from battles long past. A flowing ivory veil drifted behind her, secured to her curls beneath an ornate metallic tiara adorned with slender silver chains that chimed softly whenever the wind passed through them.
Her lovely hourglass figure stretched the fabric as she gracefully knelt before Hatun, gently cupping his cheeks between her warm hands.
A faint, tender smile rested upon her lips.
Quiet and comforting.
It couldn't have contrasted more sharply with the childish barbarian she was kneeling before.
Hatun wasn't paying attention in the slightest.
His wide mismatched eyes had become completely fixated on Sefa's ample chest. A rosy blush slowly spread across his scarred face.
Hatun: "Ahhh—OW!"
Sefa's palm snapped across the side of Hatun's head before she calmly seized his ear between her fingers and gave it a firm tug.
Sefa: "Are you even listening to me? Pay attention."
Hatun immediately wilted.
Hatun: "I-I'm sorry…"
Satisfied, Sefa released him before rising gracefully to her feet.
Beside her stood an enormous obsidian scythe wrapped in heavy iron chains still dripping with fresh blood.
Her legendary Blessed Tool—Gvano.
Even resting against the shattered earth, the colossal weapon towered above its mistress.
Sefa folded her hands neatly before herself.
When she spoke… her sweet voice barely rose above a whisper.
Sefa: "Come now, beloved. We have much to discuss over dinner."
Hatun groaned as though she had just sentenced him to execution.
He dramatically dragged both hands down his face.
Hatun: "Buuuut I'm not hungry—!"
Without another word, Sefa calmly pinched his ear once again.
Hatun yelped.
Completely ignoring his exaggerated protests, the Empress quietly dragged the pouting Emperor away across the ruined shoreline, leaving behind little more than broken earth, rivers of cooling lava, and the silence of a battlefield finally at rest.