Aros stood at the threshold of the third yer of the underworld, his gaze piercing through the veils of fire and darkness that engulfed the Eternal Battlefield. His presence alone stirred the very fabric of the domain, an invisible force pressing against the war-torn ndscape. The ground beneath his feet was a graveyard of celestial weapons, their shattered forms whispering the echoes of battles fought eons ago. The sky, a tumultuous swirl of crimson and bck, bore testament to the divine wrath that had once shaped this cursed dominion.

  This was the Eternal Battlefield, where Lucifer and his fallen warriors made their st stand against the heavens. It had become their fortress, their sanctuary, and a haven for the lost and the damned. It was here that the fallen angel Sarel bored, aiding Lucifer and his followers in fortifying their domain.

  Aros, the one who had shaped existence itself, peered into the depths of Sarel’s domain. The fallen angel, once a master architect of Heaven’s splendor, now carved a kingdom of his own. Towers of bck obsidian and crimson stone stretched toward the darkened heavens, erected with the same precision and ingenuity that once built the celestial paces of Heaven. Demonic legions, forged from Sarel’s own fall, patrolled the streets, their movements disciplined and efficient.

  Sarel, adorned in regal armor of bck and gold, stood upon a grand balcony overlooking his realm. His expression was a blend of pride and sorrow, a being torn between his fear of his creator and his relentless pursuit of autonomy. He knew Aros was watching.

  “If my creator spares me and lets me run this domain, I will stay out of the ongoing war for mortal souls,” Sarel murmured, his voice carried by the unnatural winds of his realm. “But if the wisdom of Hell is true, if the mortals’ fears are justified, then I will join the war.”

  Aros’s eyes narrowed as he took in the fallen angel’s words. Sarel did not partake in Lucifer’s endless battle for souls, but he was no ally to Heaven either. He was an opportunist, a tactician waiting for the tides of fate to shift in his favor. He trained his demons in warfare, sending them to counterattacks against Heaven’s forces not for Lucifer’s sake, but to sharpen them into conquerors of parallel worlds.

  Aros turned his gaze toward the other figures of the Eternal Battlefield. Azina, the enigmatic CEO of Lian Trading Company, moved through the ruins of war, her cold eyes calcuting the worth of the battlefield’s spoils. Demon Empress Chu-Lee, a primordial being of unfathomable power, conversed with Ariva and Bariel, two fallen angels who had shaped the foundations of Hell’s dominion. And then there was Carreal, the former gatekeeper of Heaven, now the embodiment of lust and fertility, leading her 375 legions of spirits in their twisted crusade to prove Heaven’s injustice.

  Sarel turned his head slightly, as if sensing Aros’s scrutiny. He had not forgotten the one who had created him, nor the power that had cast him down. He knew that his domain, as vast and fortified as it had become, existed at the mercy of Aros’s will.

  Aros, his expression unreadable, lingered a moment longer before withdrawing his presence from the Eternal Battlefield. He had seen enough. Sarel’s kingdom stood, for now, a monument to rebellion and ambition.

  Michael passed a fellow student who finally tried to confess to his beloved

  Micheal told her to go back to her basketball match.

  Ashley Pendragon Scoffs My match? Dude, we're done for the day. That game was ages ago. You're still stuck in the past if you can't tell the difference. But hey, if you wanna tag along with us misfits and losers, be my guest. Just don't expect me to coddle you or treat you like some fragile little flower. I py rough, got it? So watch your step or risk getting trampled.

  They argued back and forth until Michael left the area.

  The question remained: How long would Aros allow it to stand?

  Aros stood upon the Celestial Throne, his gaze shifting toward the vast, cosmic expanse before him. The Eternal Battlefield stretched beyond the borders of his sight, where the remnants of past wars still echoed through the fabric of the heavens. Yet, amidst the celestial tumult, a presence emerged—an unmistakable radiance coalescing into form.

  Archangel Pandora descended in solemn grace, her six golden wings extending outward as she grasped a divine artifact: the Holy Tree of Dominion. This construct was unlike any other, wrought from the condensed faith of trillions and interwoven with the energies of a hundred thousand dying suns and bck holes. The radiance of its upper branches burned like the final moments of colpsing stars, while its roots delved into the abyssal density of bck holes, pulsing with the pull of event horizons.

  Aros narrowed his gaze and stepped forward. As he reached out, the Holy Tree unveiled its hidden nature. Within its depths, he sensed traces of the Angelic Dominion’s yellow star power, an energy long reserved for the highest echelons of celestial hierarchy. Pondering the tree’s purpose, he let his consciousness expand, examining the intricate web of power that surged within its form.

  The Holy Tree bore fruit—brilliant, golden orbs radiating divine energy. Below its bck-hole-den roots, tens of millions of angels began to emerge, their forms composed of bck hole matter, absorbing the very essence of gravitational singurities. Above, the branches of dying stars birthed angels akin to celestial infernos, their divine presence imbued with the luminous wrath of fading suns. The lowest-ranking among them, those with no wings, bore armor and swords that pulsed with tent divinity, their power set to grow as faith in the heavens spread.

  Archangel Pandora watched with reverence before finally speaking. “I have woven this Holy Tree from the remnants of divine power left in the wake of fallen stars and colpsed dominions. Its angels shall spread faith throughout the cosmos, not merely as missionaries but as emperors—rulers destined to guide mortals and lesser celestial beings toward our universal reign. Let them lead the charge against the demons who defy our order.”

  Aros remained silent for a time, his gaze fixed upon the celestial legions forming before him. His thoughts drifted to an ancient past, a time before the final schism.

  “Lucifer,” Aros murmured, his voice carrying the weight of eternity. “You caused the birth of the Warp Gaxy, a twisted mockery of creation. Your fall birthed the infernal domain that now festers at the edges of reality. Even now, your avatar's defiance has forced me to deploy 0.1% of the First Generation Angels to combat it. And yet, beyond the shadows of this eternal struggle, Odin gathers his faithful in the pnet Hal so they may enter Vahal to battle the nightmares born from your fall, the Valkyries multiplying with every soul devoted to their cause.”

  His voice grew colder as his memory reached deeper into time. “You stood above the Lesser Dominions, their legions at your command, yet pride, greed, desire, and lust entered your heart. In your folly, you shattered the harmony of the Old Heaven and Earth. The warriors who thirsted for battle reveled in its expansion, but those who recoiled from war abandoned it. What was once a realm of divinity was broken, reforged into the battlefield it has become.”

  Aros turned back to Pandora, his eyes gleaming with celestial calcution. “Your presence here is a reminder of how the past shattered divine order. The Holy Tree is powerful, its angels formidable, but tell me—what assurance do I have that it will not be another root of discord? That those who lead will not follow the path of the fallen?”

  Pandora met his gaze unflinchingly. “Because I have bound it to the faith itself, my lord. Its strength, its angels, its entire existence—none may prosper unless faith is upheld. There is no room for selfish ambition. Those who stray from their path will find their power wither, their purpose lost to oblivion.”

  Aros studied the Holy Tree once more. The cosmic storm of faith that surrounded it pulsed with divine intent, a force that could shape the very fate of the celestial war. After a long moment, he nodded.

  “Then let it be so. The Holy Tree shall take root in our dominion, and its angels will spread our light. But know this, Pandora—should even a shadow of the past return, I will not hesitate to wield my judgment.”

  With a solemn bow, Pandora turned to the Holy Tree. Its power surged, and across the heavens, the newly born legions took flight, ready to shape the fate of existence itself.

  Meanwhile, on the world of Galnus, within the prestigious halls of Waterke High School, Alice Pendragon XI and her younger sister, Sarah Pendragon III, examined the school’s merit list with keen eyes. Their accumuted 100 merit points were soon exchanged for a fleet of 20 ships. Their next goal: the unexplored regions of the Myriad Gaxy, an untamed sector offered through the Youth Installer Empowerment Program by none other than Emperor Hariko Lee of the Imperial Empire.

  Alice turned to Sarah. "Remember, once we find habitable worlds, we control them. But the Emperor's forces will hold the docks to prevent rebellion."

  With that understanding, they set course for SE Sector 7557.8888. Upon arrival, they discovered two pnets in the habitable zone—one an inferno of frequent volcanic eruptions, the other a viable settlement world. Without hesitation, they initiated colonization efforts, establishing a thriving community of 30,000 civilians.

  Six months passed, and Sarah, ever the ambitious one, turned her attention to SE Sector 7556.8888. However, her search yielded nothing but barren, lifeless worlds. Faced with a difficult choice, she invested a staggering 1 trillion Martain Star Coins, securing the deployment of an Imperial S2-css ship, an enigmatic marvel of unknown capabilities, to terraform the sole pnet within the habitable zone. At the same time, she began fortifying the moons of both sectors, transforming them into strategic military outposts for her growing forces.

  In contrast, Alice chose a more measured approach, relying solely on Imperial forces rather than her own military strength. With her allies from the 12th generation of the Pendragon family, she established her dominion over the Jio Sor System, while Sarah cimed her rule over the Arah Sor System.

  As time passed, stark differences in their strategies became evident. Sarah’s independent army ballooned her expenses to five times those of her sister, while Alice, relying on the Empire, kept her costs ten times lower. Yet despite their differences, both knew one truth: the power struggles within the Pendragon cn, ruled by Mordred Pendragon XV, were not something they wished to be entangled in.

  Sitting together in the command deck of their respective fgships, they discussed their next move.

  "Mordred rules over fifty sor systems," Alice mused. "We should stay far from the cn's internal conflicts."

  Sarah nodded in agreement. "We’ll remain in the Myriad Gaxy. It’s the most dangerous sector in the universe, its proximity to Warp Storms from the Warp Gaxy constantly shifting the very fabric of reality. But in chaos, there is opportunity."

  With that, the two sisters solidified their resolve, their ambitions set in motion in a gaxy fraught with danger and limitless potential.

  At the same time, in the Myriad Gaxy, a thousand noble families' youth sought refuge from the power struggles that pgued their dynasties. Their families, burdened by generations of political maneuvering, had become battlegrounds for succession. Wishing to escape these conflicts and carve their own legacies, they turned to the Youth Installer Empowerment Program.

  These ambitious pioneers gathered intelligence on the cimed and uncimed sectors, determining where opportunities y before embarking on their journeys. Each of them set their sights on unexplored regions, eager to establish dominions of their own, free from the shadows of their predecessors. As their ships tore through the void, they knew their choices would shape the future of the Myriad Gaxy.

  However, not all voyages proceeded without peril. As Rios Crke led her fleet toward an uncimed sector, an unnatural disturbance flickered across their sensors. A deep, guttural screech echoed through the void, followed by the appearance of a monstrous entity—the Fly Dragon. With the grotesque head of a fly, massive, chitinous wings as rge as a dragon’s, and a draconic torso, the abomination loomed over the fleet.

  Arms bred as its vile spray struck one of the ships. "WARNING! BLACK PLAGUE AND FLY DEMON MANIFESTATION DETECTED!" the ship’s AI screeched.

  Before the infection could spread, Pandora deployed her Holy Tree forces, their radiant forms descending upon the monstrosity in a blinding cascade of golden light. While they held the Fly Dragon at bay, Rios swiftly ordered his fleet to warp to the chosen sector.

  The battle raged for a full day and night. The Bckhole Angels engaged the Fly Dragon in a relentless struggle, their celestial might cshing with the abomination’s corrupting essence. Out of the ten Bckhole Angels deployed, one succumbed, its form twisting into a grotesque Fly Angel—wings buzzing with an unnatural resonance, though its body still resembled a fallen angel.

  By dawn, the battle concluded. The Fly Dragon y sin, its foul presence eradicated, but the cost had been steep. With the sector now free of corruption, Rios Crke and his settlers pressed forward, determined to carve their own fate in the Myriad Gaxy.

  As the Myriad Gaxy witnessed the growing influence of the new angels, Beelzebub, the Lord of Flies, set his sinister pns into motion. Within his accursed domain in the Warp Gaxy, he summoned 5000 Fly Dragons, each a grotesque fusion of demonic filth and draconic terror. Their massive wings buzzed with an infernal resonance, their breath carrying the essence of the Fly Demon Manifestation—a pgue designed to corrupt all that it touched.

  With a single command, the Swarm of Beelzebub surged forth, piercing the cosmic barriers to invade the celestial territories of the new angels. The battle was immediate and brutal. The Holy Tree’s forces engaged the demonic horde in a war of attrition, their divine light cshing against the infectious darkness of the Fly Dragons.

  Yet, the true horror of Beelzebub’s assault was soon revealed. With each breath of the Fly Dragons, one-tenth of the Bckhole Angels succumbed, their celestial forms mutating into grotesque Fly Angels. Though they retained their fallen angelic appearance, their once-glorious wings were now those of a monstrous fly, and their minds twisted to serve the Lord of Flies.

  Seeing his strategy work, Beelzebub wasted no time. Every newly corrupted Fly Angel was instantly warped to his domain within the Warp Gaxy, where they were stripped of their former selves and reforged as the eternal guardians of his infernal citadel. As his multifront war against the Angelic Dominion and the Demonverse intensified, Beelzebub saw these new Fly Angels as vital reinforcements to his ranks.

  For every ten angels lost, his numbers swelled. The war was far from over, and as Beelzebub grinned within the depths of his abyssal throne, he knew that his corruption had only just begun.

  Within the rotting depths of the Warp Gaxy, Beelzebub brooded over his endless war against the Angelic Dominion and the Demonverse. His forces, vast as they were, still required more soldiers to sustain the eternal conflict. Thus, he called forth a new horror—the Fly Hunter, a monstrous predator designed to spread his accursed dominion.

  The Fly Hunter was an abomination of three heads: the first, a dragon, exhaling infernal fire tainted with the essence of corruption; the second, an enormous fly, pulsating with the unholy rhythm of a thousand buzzing wings, its breath carrying the Fly Demon Manifestation; and the third, a pgue-hound, its maw dripping with a bck fog that carried the stench of death. Its tail, a barbed stinger, injected a venomous toxin that could warp mortal flesh into Fly Demons—the most common foot soldiers of Beelzebub’s horde.

  With a cruel grin, Beelzebub sent the first Fly Hunter to the mortal realms, seeking fresh victims to bolster his swarm.

  March 11, 2209 – The S2-Css Imperial Ship Incident

  An S2-css Imperial ship, carrying 45,000 soldiers and 500 sailors, drifted through the Myriad Gaxy. Unbeknownst to its crew, a Fly Hunter had already boarded, hidden within the dark recesses of the ship’s underbelly. It moved with eerie silence, its buzzing wings concealed beneath the cloak of shadow.

  The first sign of its presence came in the form of a maddening drone, an incessant, high-pitched buzzing that slithered into the ears of every crew member. Those who despised such sounds found themselves driven into a frantic rage, their minds unraveling under the unholy resonance. Then came the pgue.

  The Fly Hunter released its breath, a wave of Fly Demon Manifestation washing over the lower decks. The soldiers who inhaled it began to change—skin peeling away to reveal grotesque chitin, eyes swelling into multifaceted orbs, and limbs twisting into cwed appendages. They became Fly Demons, their loyalty shifting instantly to Beelzebub.

  Panic spread through the ship as the Imperial soldiers fought back. Their discipline was unmatched, and they struck down their turned comrades five times over. But for every Fly Demon sin, more arose from the corruption. The Fly Hunter moved through the chaos, its three heads spreading fire, disease, and madness in equal measure.

  By the time the ship’s arms reached their peak, half of the vessel was overrun. The remaining soldiers made their st stand in the command sector, desperately sending distress signals to nearby fleets. Yet, it was too te. The st wave of Fly Hunters had arrived, pouring through the corridors with their transformed minions leading the charge. The ship fell within hours, its once-proud banners now draped in the filth of the swarm.

  As Beelzebub received word of his victory, he let out a low, guttural ugh. The Fly Hunters had proven their worth. The Imperial ship was no more, and in its pce stood a new swarm of Fly Demons, ready to serve their master in the unending war.

  Meanwhile At The Waterke High SchoolAshley Pendragon leaned against the lockers, arms crossed, the usual arrogant smirk curling at her lips as she sized Michael up. Her heavy football gear glistened with sweat from the practice session, her perfectly styled hair just starting to fray under the pressure.

  "Hey, Slummer! What're you even doing here?" she sneered, voice dripping with contempt. "Didn't realize this dump allowed slum-based outsiders, but I suppose they don't get many visitors like you – total waste." Her eyes flicked over Michael once more, before she let out a sharp ugh. "Just so we're clear, stay outta my way. Got it? 'Cause the st thing I desire is some try-hard suck-up student thinking they can change me."

  Michael, standing just a few feet away, looked at Ashley with an expression that could only be described as baffled. His brow furrowed, and for a moment, there was a sense of confusion, almost disbelief.

  Ashley rolled her eyes dramatically, letting out an exaggerated sigh. "Oh wow, what's with the weird stare, Michael? You look like you've seen a ghost... or maybe you're just shocked by how hot I am under this sweaty football gear." She paused, taking a few exaggerated steps towards him. "Either way, keep gawkin' and I'll give you a face full of cleat. Get a grip, nerd."

  Michael blinked, shaking his head slightly before speaking in his usual low, calm voice. "You are the ghost."

  Ashley’s smile faltered. She blinked, the cocky attitude vanishing for a split second. "Huh? Ghost? Seriously?" she scoffed, crossing her arms tighter against her chest. "Okay, now you're just spittin' random crap. Listen up, cuz – I ain't no phantom, I'm flesh and blood, the toughest chick on that field. So quit yer voodoo nonsense or I'll deck ya before lunch. Capiche?"

  Before Michael could respond, a student near them broke away from a small crowd that had gathered nearby, the scene growing more intense as the day wore on. The atmosphere shifted, and Michael’s attention was drawn to the group.

  As the student passed by, a ugh echoed through the hall, ringing harshly in Michael’s ears. "Look at that loser," the student sneered. "The ugliest one here, and I bet you the only reason they even have a chance at talking to anyone is because they think they’re one of us."

  Alex, caught in the middle of the taunts, stood silent, trying to hold his ground. Lena Walter, standing nearby, smirked as she overheard the remark and joined in. Her sharp, biting words pierced the air like a bde. "I won’t lower myself to someone like you. Homeless, living off the scraps of the Composite Solid Program," she said, her eyes filled with disgust. "You’re lucky they let you into this school at all."

  She added with a twisted smile, "I heard the solids are being transported to the desert sector now, to try and make it a new forest. Destroying trees there is illegal, you know? But you’re just the kind of person who wouldn’t understand something like that. Low-grade cargo transport to some far-off pnet, professional is still worth more than you."

  Alex, trying to swallow his pride, turned away, his face flushing with embarrassment as he tried to leave the scene.

  Terra, however, wasn’t done. She walked toward Alex with slow, deliberate steps, her gaze locking onto him as though trying to dissect every aspect of him. "Getting rejected by the ugly bitch Lena Walter, huh? You must be the poorest in our town," she said, her tone condescending.

  Alex clenched his fists, refusing to be drawn into her petty insults. "She's good," he muttered under his breath.

  But Terra wasn’t done with him. Her eyes narrowed into slits as she stepped closer, the edge of her voice sharp and mocking. "You're saying I'm wrong just 'cause you think you're hot shit yourself? Please." She looked him up and down with exaggerated scrutiny. "That messy brown hair, those nerdy gsses...and what, were you trying out for the role of the fat kid in our high school's production of Oliver Twist with that wardrobe?" She sneered, her face contorting with disdain.

  Her words cut through the air like a whip, but Alex still couldn’t put his finger on why her presence made him feel so uneasy.

  Terra took another step forward, her voice dripping with superiority as she leaned in closer. "Face it, Alex. No matter how much juice you think you've got, nobody's ever going to find you appealing. You're just… not in the league of people like me."

  Alex's face flushed deeper, but he refused to react. He just stared back at her, his thoughts swirling with confusion. Terra seemed to radiate an intense aura, one that felt almost too strong to be just about her words. There was something about the way she carried herself that made everything about this situation feel off, but for the life of him, he couldn’t quite figure out what.

  Terra continued, now turning to look at Alex with a superior smirk. "You should focus on staying single. It's obvious you don't have the status or the looks to attract anyone of worth," she mocked. "And if you're really desperate, go for someone who's in the same social pit as you. You know, misery loves company and all that."

  Michael, watching the whole exchange, couldn’t help but notice the subtle power dynamics at py. Terra’s words, though cutting, weren’t just insults; they were calcuted moves to break someone down, to make them feel small and insignificant. And yet, Alex stood his ground, silent but unbroken.

  Ashley, still standing in the background, crossed her arms again, but this time there was a flicker of something else in her eyes—a hint of amusement or perhaps curiosity. She smirked, watching the interaction unfold like a spectator at a game, clearly entertained by the tension.

  "Looks like you’re in for more of a rough ride than you thought, Slummer," Ashley mused, not even trying to hide her grin. "Hope you can handle it."

  The tension in the air thickened as Michael, his patience wearing thin from the relentless insults, suddenly made a move that none in the hallway expected. Without a word, he stepped forward and spped Ashley Pendragon across the face, the sound of the contact echoing in the otherwise quiet corridor.

  Ashley’s eyes widened in disbelief as her head snapped to the side. Her mouth opened, ready to unleash a torrent of fury, but she paused as she turned back to face him. Her hand hovered near her cheek, where the sting of the sp still lingered, her confidence momentarily shattered.

  Michael didn’t flinch. Instead, he calmly reached into his pocket and pulled out a small card, holding it up between them. The card was sleek, almost glowing with a faint, holographic sheen, a token of power and authority that only a select few had access to. It was the "One-Hit Card", an item that granted the holder the ability to nd a single, unanswerable blow, with the consequence of immediate action. In Michael’s case, it meant he had a direct line to the office of James Bke, the school’s principal, a man with enough influence to make sure that even the likes of Ashley Pendragon wouldn’t escape unscathed.

  The card wasn’t just a threat—it was a guarantee.

  “Here’s the deal, Ashley,” Michael’s voice was steady, but there was a cold edge to it now, an unspoken warning hanging in the air. "This is my one hit. And trust me, I don’t care what you think of me, or where you come from. But if you think you can keep throwing your weight around without consequences, you’re wrong. I was called to the James Bke office, and if you want to see what happens when I use this card, I’ll be more than happy to show you. You get one free pass. After that? You won't be so lucky."

  Ashley blinked in stunned silence, still holding her cheek where his sp had nded. She seemed to be processing the situation, and for a moment, all of her bravado seemed to drain away. Her eyes flicked from Michael to the card, then back to his face, trying to gauge whether he was bluffing. But something in his expression told her that he wasn’t.

  For a moment, she stayed frozen, the smug attitude evaporating as a flicker of doubt crept in. Then, just as quickly, she let out a small, almost nervous ugh, rubbing her cheek. "Okay, okay," she muttered, trying to regain some sembnce of composure. "You're not as much of a waste as I thought."

  But Michael was already turning away, not giving her a chance to recover fully from the moment. He gnced over his shoulder one st time, his eyes locking with hers for a split second.

  "Remember," he said, his voice low and unwavering, "this isn’t just about you and me anymore. If I don’t have to use this card, neither of us is getting dragged into Bke’s office. But if you push me again, trust me, it won’t be just a sp. Got it?"

  Before Ashley could respond, Michael walked off, his footsteps echoing down the hallway, leaving a stunned and fuming Ashley standing there, now unsure of her next move.

  As he walked away, he could feel the weight of the "One-Hit Card" still in his pocket, a reminder of the power he held in his hands. The warning was clear: some people couldn’t be reasoned with, but others only needed a single, well-pced blow to put them in their pce.

  The tension in the hallway simmered down as the students nearby started to whisper amongst themselves, some impressed by Michael’s bold move, others silently afraid of the consequences that might come next.

  But Michael didn’t care. He’d made his point—and he wasn’t about to back down.