The land was barren, but not simply empty. Traces of a previous society still lingered in the form of ruins, fossils, and the stench of death.

  You see, in the past, this land was a flourishing society—housing thousands if not millions of creatures referred to as “demons”. Like any other society, they thrived on trade, culture and social circles. While you’d normally expect demons to be far more gruesome and threatening beasts, one rule kept them in line…

  “Thou shall not covet.”

  This wasn’t just any old rule, it was a commandment. A rule placed by God himself. Any who dared to break this rule would find themselves erased from existence, forgotten by any loved ones and casted into the “void”, where they’d wonder for all of eternity.

  For a time, demons lived in peace, ruled over by six higher demons. Until one day, seven figures suddenly appeared in the underworld, slaughtering and enslaving the demons. Not for any righteous reasons or anything like that. They did it simply because they hated the idea of sharing a realm with ugly creatures.

  Wrath.

  Lust.

  Pride.

  Envy.

  Gluttony.

  Sloth.

  Greed.

  These seven figures were once human, but due to an insatiable thirst for vengeance they sold their souls to the devil and became the embodiment of human sin. They are…

  The Asuras.

  An overwhelming pressure blew apart the red soil in an instant. In the distance, floating islands drifted, pieces of burnt mountains and clumps of vaporizing flesh accompanying its ascent.

  Suddenly, an explosion erupted that could devour entire continents, its sparks extending outward like a rip in space itself. The source? Merely two clashing figures.

  One was once hailed as the greatest king in all of history. The other, a man bestowed with the duty of saving the world. Then again, one could argue that they were both tasked with that duty. They simply had very different ways of seeing to it.

  At one point they fostered the same dream, harboring the same feelings and vision for the world. But now they stood at opposite sides of the road we call “destiny”.

  Each collision between them was a genesis of destruction, their powers negating the very laws of nature. Sometimes the ground would unravel, and rocks and debris would dissolve into dust.

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  The ex-king, Solomon, hurled himself backward, leaving trails of golden afterimages that solidified briefly before shattering.

  “How long dost thou intend to defend Michael's falsities, Finral?” He questioned, his voice carrying the weight of a young king. “Canst thou not perceive the divine deception?! The gods speak naught but gilded lies!”

  “Funny, Asura of Wrath... You preach against false gods while kneeling to one. Your hypocrisy reeks stronger than the corpses beneath our feet, Solomon.”

  Finral's stance shifted, his wooden staff leaving trails of blue light that lingered like brushstrokes. The ground beneath him folded inward, pieces of earth lifting and hovering around him.

  Solomon's golden eyes narrowed.

  “Do not misunderstand. I serve not Lucifer. We have merely entered an accord of necessity. When the appointed hour arrives, I shall unmake our pack and find the Promised Land.”

  The very mention of this fabled place caused Finral’s brow to twitch before swinging his staff horizontally at inhuman speeds. But matching his movements, Solomon swiped his right hand.

  BOOM!

  Their auras collided—Solomon's golden radiance against Finral's sky-blue brilliance. The explosion settled, superheated steam rising from their clothing.

  In the next moment, Finral raised his staff skyward. The air above him shimmered with particles of blue stars. Then the stars suddenly cramped together, gradually tracing a 2d sketch of a gigantic centaur.

  “Constellation Art. Space Series: Sagittarius!”

  He swept his wooden staff in a precise arc, its tip leaving traces of blue light that shot off into countless beams of concentrated starlite. They didn't simply fly toward Solomon but predicted his movements, curving through impossible angles to intercept him as he glided through the air. Each dodged arrow detonated into a pocket of inverted space—a miniature blackhole of sorts.

  “Thy celestial marksmanship has improved…” Solomon acknowledged, his archaic speech pattern unbroken even in the heat of battle. “Yet remains insufficient!”

  Finral flailed his staff in practiced motions, not panicking but fluid, creating defensive patterns in the air. He could sense what was coming.

  Solomon shifted directions, his golden form blurring as the drawing of a large ram appeared behind him.

  “Constellation Art. Time Series: Ares!”

  BOOM!

  In an instant, Solomon appeared just in front of Finral, his fist glowing with golden, concentrated starlites.

  They pushed against each other, locked in perfect opposition, neither yielding an inch. The force of their clash sent shockwaves that ravaged the red soil, turning it into fragmented structures that climbed upward like grasping hands.

  “Constellation Art...” Solomon intoned, his left fist raising skyward as the massive sketch of a bull materialized behind him. “Justice Series: Taurus!”

  The kinetic energy generated by his punch was vastly enhanced, burning the already scorched air on impact. Finral spun through the air, his body leaving a spiral trail of blue light as he was hurled into the ground. On impact, the earth mutilated, peaks and valleys forming and collapsing in chaotic sequence.

  Rising from the transmuted earth, Finral emerged surprisingly unscathed. Particles of blue starlites orbited him protectively.

  “When will you realize...?” Finral questioned. “There is no Promised Land. Noah searched for centuries and found nothing but emptiness. Your obsession is blinding you to truth! …Tell me... What would David think of what you've become?”

  The mention of that name shifted Solomon's expression from confident to wounded. His brow descended, jaw clenching as millennium-old pain resurfaced. The golden aura surrounding him flickered momentarily, highlighting his fluctuating emotion.

  “NEVER UTTER THAT NAME!!” Solomon roared, his archaic speech pattern dissolved in an instant.

  His right eye ignited with sudden power. The six-pointed star inscribed permanently upon the eye pulsed with brilliant, golden fire. Similarly, Finral's left eye responded, a matching six-pointed star emanating the same golden radiance—despite his usual blue energy.

  “I guess you and I can never see eye to eye... Brother.”

  BOOM!