With the souls of the Demon Lords sealed, it was ti for the truly challenging part: imprisoning them within the Demon Cages inside their hearts. There was no way to ensure everything would proceed flawlessly, which was why they chose to go one at a ti.
The Obsidian Dragon King took a deep breath as he held Harkem’s soul within his claw. He focused for a second before thrusting the Dracolich’s essence into his chest.
Instantly, the runic formation forged by Vlad inside rlin’s heart ca into play. Ancient sigils flared to life, releasing tendrils of arcane power that coiled around the Demon Lord’s soul and dragged it toward the waiting cage.
"BOOM!"
A burst of necrotic and deadly energy erupted from rlin’s body as Harkem fought back. A True Depravita could easily suppress such resistance thanks to the overwhelming psychic force radiating from every cell of their being. But things were not so simple for the Obsidian Dragon King.
rlin was forced to summon every iota of his willpower. His soul surged outward, clashing directly against Harkem’s malignant consciousness. The struggle was brutal and unrelenting. Hours passed as the two forces collided within his body, neither willing to yield. At last, through sheer determination and imnse effort, rlin succeeded. His soul force overwheld the Dracolich’s, forcing it fully into the Demon Cage.
Unfortunately for the Obsidian Dragon King, victory in the battle of wills was only the beginning. Exhausted as he was, there remained the far more delicate task of allowing the Demon Lord’s corrupted soul force to circulate safely through his body. He needed to ensure a peaceful flow, tempering himself against the corruption and gradually developing resistance to its influence.
As Vlad observed rlin’s struggle, he could not help but feel deep gratitude for his own constitution. During his ascension, he had not needed to fear corruption. The essence of a Demon Lord would do nothing to his body except nurture and strengthen it.
Fortunately for rlin, the adaptation process proceeded without further catastrophe. Slowly but surely, his massive draconic body grew resilient enough to endure Harkem’s soul without suffering backlash. By the end, though pale and visibly drained, the Obsidian Dragon King stood firm.
Next ca Emperor Brightkin.
His eyes burned with determination as he guided Umbraxis’s soul into the Demon Cage within his heart. The clash of wills began imdiately. The Demon Lord thrashed desperately, seeking any crack in Brightkin’s defenses. Yet no matter how fiercely Umbraxis resisted, he could not overco the soul of a sovereign who had endured the horrors of the Dream of Madness and stood tall even when death seed imminent.
However, when it ca to regulating the flow of energy, matters spiraled out of control.
Light and darkness coursed through the Faerathian Emperor’s body in turbulent streams. At first, the opposing forces appeared balanced. Then, suddenly, they collided violently within him, generating a terrifying backlash. Blood leaked from Brightkin’s eyes, alarming Vlad and the other sovereigns.
They prepared to intervene.
Before any of them could act, Brightkin’s power surged. With a roar that echoed through the sky, he suppressed the chaotic reaction raging inside him. Solemn expressions crossed the faces of the sovereigns as they watched. Gradually, Brightkin’s aura stabilized.
It took several hours before the Emperor of Faerathia opened his eyes and released a deep sigh. Though he had quelled the imdiate backlash, the internal damage was severe. He had been forced to seal away much of the Demon Lord’s soul force rather than integrate it fully.
Vlad nodded softly as Brightkin approached. The Emperor had done nothing wrong. Sotis, even when no mistakes are made, things simply go awry.
In a few months, he would recover and attempt the process again.
As that thought crossed the mind of the True Depravita of Wrath, he felt a quiet sense of relief. It was fortunate they had not attempted this before the battle with the Dream of Madness. Had they waited for Brightkin to heal before acting back then, the Empyrean Alien might have escaped.
Not allowing himself to linger on such thoughts, Vlad turned his attention to the Dvergar King.
Orkin stepped forward without hesitation. His sharp eyes reflected unwavering focus. Having witnessed both rlin’s triumph and Brightkin’s setback, he committed every ounce of will and concentration to the task before him.
When he sealed Gorthak, the magma Demon Lord, into his Demon Cage, the clash began at once.
The collision of wills was extraordinarily intense. Though Orkin ultimately secured victory in that internal struggle, the true challenge lay in adapting to the corrupted and chaotic soul force of Gorthak. Lightning and thunder erupted across the Dvergar King’s body, crashing against the massive, fiery aura radiating from the Demon Lord’s essence.
It was a fierce and awe-inspiring battle of elents—storm against magma, thunder against fla.
For hours, the chamber trembled under the strain. Yet gradually, smiles began to appear on the faces of the sovereigns. The two forces within Orkin stopped clashing. Instead, they began to complent one another. Lightning wove through fire without resistance, tempering and refining it.
The True Depravita of Wrath showed a wide smile as he witnessed the achievents of rlin and Orkin. Though Brightkin had failed this ti, he would soon have another chance.
The Six Sun Alliance was growing stronger by the day.
And that was excellent news—because they would need every ounce of that strength.
---
As the True Depravita of Wrath and his army traveled across the Abyss, a strange entity made its way through Hell itself. It crossed sacred and sealed dinsions as if they were nothing more than a casual stroll through a garden. Barriers that should have been impenetrable parted before it without resistance.
It did not take long for the being to reach a dark dinsion that housed two figures.
Those figures were none other than Baal and Beelzebub.
Their eyes widened in shock as they beheld the intruder: a hooded figure with writhing tentacles falling from beneath its cowl. This was their sacred domain—a hidden sanctuary known to almost no one, and certainly forbidden to outsiders while they were recovering.
Their first reaction was imdiate and violent.
Energy exploded outward from both Demon Lords. Ti itself warped. Gravity collapsed and twisted. The raw force of Hell erupted toward the intruder in a devastating torrent.
Yet the hooded figure did not panic.
Even as the overwhelming power of Hell descended upon him, a disgusting smile spread across his face. He stood unmoved, untouched, as though the laws of reality themselves bent to accommodate his presence.
Then he spoke, his voice echoing with sothing ancient and unfathomable:
"Do you want the power to win?"
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