The ground had only just settled when Ethan turned to leave—only to see the Mole King barreling toward him in a flurry of limbs and dust.

Clutched tightly in his arms was a roll of ancient, dirt-caked parchment. His beard quivered with excitement.

"Master!" he called out, nearly dropping to one knee as he unfurled the scroll with reverence. "This is our tribe's most sacred inheritance—passed down through generations. Our ancestors, while digging through the deep veins, uncovered entrances to forgotten replica worlds."

Ethan paused, brows lifting slightly.

"Replica worlds?"

"Yes!" The Mole King jabbed a clawed finger at the map, where dozens—no, hundreds—of tiny symbols glimmered faintly gold under the lamplight.

"Each mark is a separate world. Some hold ancient energy currents, others are home to strange, powerful creatures… Any one of them could strengthen your army."

Ethan leaned in, eyes scanning the parchment.

A strange pulse stirred in his fingertips, traveled up his arm, and settled in his chest. This wasn't just a map—it was a key. A ticket to countless unknowns.

"…You're sure these places still exist?"

The Mole King nodded vigorously.

"They do. And they all lie along the ley lines we've tunneled into."

Ethan was quiet for a moment.

Then, with deliberate care, he rolled the map closed.

"Excellent," he said, voice low and edged with anticipation.

"Looks like our next campaign… starts here."

…

A few hours later, Emerald Castle was alive with motion.

The army stood ready—Lightforged armor gleaming, the Dragonscale battalions lined up in formation, Fairy squadrons hovering in tight aerial rings. The castle's energy barrier surged and rolled like a living sea.

Ethan stood atop the command platform, cloak snapping in the wind. His gaze was fixed on the map now pinned to the tactical table before him.

He pointed to a mark near the top edge—north of Emerald Castle, where a vast lake spread like a mirror beneath the sky.

"We start there."

…

The lake was cloaked in night.

Silver moonlight rippled across its surface, casting shifting patterns that danced with the breeze.

Ethan had been here many times before—between battles, he'd come to wash the blood from his hands in these waters.

But tonight, the air felt different. Heavy. Charged.

The Mole King knelt beside him, voice hushed.

"Here, Master. The stone at the lake's edge—it's the entrance."

Ethan stepped forward and pressed his palm to the flat, moss-covered rock.

A low hum vibrated through his skin.

Runes flared to life between his fingers, glowing with ancient light. The stone trembled, then split down the middle, grinding open with a slow, deliberate groan.

Rrrrummmm—

The lake erupted.

Waves surged upward, crashing in silver arcs as invisible energy burst from the widening crack below. It poured out in waves—welcoming, perhaps.

Or warning.

Ethan narrowed his eyes.

That scent—thick, chaotic, laced with the sweet tang of blood—hit him like a wave.

"Ready yourselves," he said quietly.

Light and shadow twisted around him, wrapping the entire army in a cocoon of energy.

Then the world tilted.

And swallowed them whole.

…

When Ethan opened his eyes again, the air was choked with a gray-red mist.

The sky above was fractured—split like shattered glass, with something watching from every crack. Eyes. Countless, unseen eyes.

He was alone.

No trace of his army. No sound but the wind.

"Auri? Idra?" he called out instinctively.

Nothing.

Just silence.

He turned in place, scanning the terrain. Beneath his boots stretched a dry, cracked canyon floor. The air reeked faintly of sulfur.

"Father—!"

The voice came from within.

Idra's spirit shimmered out from his chest, her form solidifying as she emerged. Her eyes glowed faintly, scanning the surroundings with sharp, wary movements.

"We've been scattered," she said, voice low. "I can feel it—something ancient is here."

Auri appeared beside her, wings glowing softly. She sniffed the air once—and froze.

Idra's voice trembled. "Father… that presence… it's coming from deep in the canyon."

A system prompt blinked into view:

[Unknown Species Detected: Dread Demon Dragon]

[Species Note: Feeds on resentment and bloodlust. Evolves by consuming Primordial Force.]

Another flash:

[Warning: Entity may have surpassed evolutionary limits—Designation: Archdemon Wyrmgod.]

Ethan's pulse kicked hard.

"Archdemon Wyrmgod…"

If even Idra could feel fear, then in this world, there could only be one such creature.

He looked toward the canyon's far end.

The air shimmered there, vibrating subtly. The sky above it warped, as if something massive was breathing—slow, steady, and impossibly vast.

Ethan inhaled deeply, then tapped open his system interface, scanning the ley lines and energy flows.

"…It's to the north," he murmured. "Less than ten miles."

His hand tightened around the Scepter of the Fey Sovereign.

"We need cover. Now."

Auri and Idra exchanged a glance, then nodded in unison.

Three streaks of light vanished into the shadows, slipping into a cave hidden behind jagged black stone.

As soon as Ethan stepped into the cave, he raised his right hand.

A ring of light pulsed from his palm, expanding outward in a smooth ripple. At the mouth of the cave, it solidified into a dense energy barrier, thick with layered sigils. The glowing lines flowed like water, weaving into a seamless wall.

Within seconds, the entrance vanished behind a veil of light.

The wind outside fell silent.

Only their breathing remained.

Auri's voice trembled. "Father… we're not trapped in here, are we?"

Ethan didn't answer right away.

He tilted his head back, eyes fixed on the ceiling of stone above them.

The rock was vibrating—faintly, rhythmically. Like a heartbeat echoing through the earth.

"Not trapped," he said at last, voice low. "Isolated."

He closed his eyes and summoned the system interface.

Symbols flickered across his vision. Scanning lines rippled outward in concentric circles—then froze.

[Warning: World structure anomaly detected. Multiple spatial layers overlapping.]

Ethan's frown deepened.

"…This Plane World isn't a continent," he murmured, almost to himself.

"It's been fractured—split into countless spatial shards."

Auri and Idra exchanged a glance.

Ethan kept going, voice tight with focus.

"Each shard has its own energy frequency. Our army… was likely scattered across them."

The air thickened, heavy with unspoken dread.

Auri bit her lip. "Then… can they come back?"

Ethan didn't respond.

He didn't have an answer.

Outside, the wind shifted.

A low, guttural rumble rolled in from the distance—like something massive turning in its sleep.

The stone walls trembled. Dust sifted down from the ceiling.

Idra's pupils narrowed to slits. "Father. Something's coming."

BOOM—

The sound drew closer, deep and resonant.

Hairline cracks began to spider across the air itself, as if invisible claws were scratching at glass.

Ethan raised his hand again. The energy barrier flickered, its light trembling.

Then—

A voice slipped through the cracks.

Not a roar.

A whisper. Laced with laughter.

"Hehehe… three little bugs from another world."

It slithered through the stone, crawling like a centipede through the walls.

"Came crawling in… and one of you reeks of Dragon God blood."

The temperature in the cave plummeted.

"Mmm… what a scent."

"Come out, little bugs. Let me decide which one to eat first."

The voice chuckled, low and wet.

"Come on, don't be shy. Let me devour you nice and quick… or I'll peel you apart, piece by piece, and savor the screams."

It echoed from every direction—above them, behind them, right beside their ears.

A voice soaked in madness.

And behind it, a power so thick it pressed against the cave walls like a rising tide.

...