Two years earlier, before the arrival of Jericho.
The sky above Menssai was silent that day — unnaturally silent. Not a bird. Not a breeze. It was as if the world itself held its breath the moment Jace awakened as a Demi-god.
What followed was not a battle. It was an unveiling.
The coup that Jin Dy Wickham had spent years weaving collapsed before it ever truly began. Jace didn't counter their strategy; he simply erased it. His power surged through Menssai like a divine plague — clean, instant, absolute. Resistance forces were lifted from the ground, crushed by the elements of nature, or dropped screaming into shadows in space and time that swallowed them whole.
Every man and woman who raised a blade against him felt it — that primal, soul-deep terror that whispered:
This is not a king.
This is something else.
And no one suffered more than Jin.
Jin Dy Wickham, leader of the coup, watched helplessly as his entire bloodline — those connected to him by name or blood — were wiped out with a single merciless decree. Homes burned. Names erased. Legacies snuffed out like candles in a storm.
Jin himself was dragged before the city square, beaten, trembling, humiliated before the very people he once hoped would cheer his revolution.
Jace stood over him, silent, unreadable.
Then he spoke—not in a shout, but a calm, cold truth that carried through the broken city:
"Let this man be the warning. This is the price of defiance."
Jin begged — pathetically, hopelessly — for his life. It didn't matter.
Jace raised a hand, and frost bloomed across Jin's body in a single heartbeat, racing over skin, muscle, bone.
In seconds, Jin was a statue of ice.
A moment later, Jace closed his fist.
The statue shattered — into dust.
And right there, on the blood-stained stones of Menssai, he declared war — not just on the Three Great Powers, but on the entire world. Humans. Demonoids. Darzkiel.
All of them.
Any nation.
Any race.
Any individual who dared challenge him would share Jin's fate.
⸻
Two Years Later
And Jace meant every word.
In just two years, most of the human continent had fallen under his rule. Only the three great powers — Kosuke, Warmark, and Righteous — alongside a handful of desperate nations still stood. Barely.
And Jace did not rise alone.
From the continents of the Demonoids and the Darzkiel, he recruited four extraordinary individuals. Two from each. mortals in strength, loyalty, and ambition — each granted a share of Jace's impossible power. Each a pillar of his new dominion.
With them at his side, Jace Von Menssai had become more than a tyrant.
He was ascending.
Unstoppable.
Untouchable.
And the world trembled beneath his shadow.
———
(The present day)
The massive iron doors groaned open as Jace stepped into the grand hall, fresh from securing yet another kingdom's surrender. His cloak dragged across the obsidian floor, still carrying traces of foreign soil — another empire folded neatly beneath his heel.
Kolpa waited at the entrance, arms crossed, wearing that familiar sharp grin.
He had been the first to kneel before Jace after the Demi-god's ascent, and the bond they forged since then was unshakeable — more brotherly than ally, more honest than most would ever dare to be with Jace.
"Welcome back, my lord," Kolpa said, bowing slightly before straightening with easy confidence. "Another kingdom bent to your will. At this rate, the world will be yours before the season turns."
Jace gave him a tired look, his Sliver eyes dimming with boredom.
"Mm. It's not as fun anymore, Kolpa."
He sighed softly, almost disappointed.
"When I started… nations resisted. Armies charged. Leaders spat in my face. Now they kneel the moment they hear my footsteps. I haven't flexed my power in months."
Kolpa chuckled under his breath. "Many kings would kill for such effortless dominion."
"I know," Jace muttered, lifting a hand that still radiated faint divine heat. "But conquering a world that no longer fights back… feels like crushing sand. Empty."
Kolpa stepped closer, placing a reassuring hand on Jace's shoulder — one of the very few who could touch him without fear.
"Still," Kolpa said with an earnest smile, "the fact that mankind surrenders to you without resistance… your father, and my lord Pluto, would be greatly pleased. They fall before your presence alone. Isn't that the very will he bestowed upon you?"
Jace paused… then nodded slowly, the fire returning to his eyes.
"You're right. If father is satisfied, then so am I. His will is everything."
A small, fiercely loyal smile curled his lips.
"I live for that."
Kolpa's grin widened. "Speaking of your father… he arrived a short while ago. He's waiting in the throne room."
For the first time since returning, Jace's expression lit up — genuine, bright, almost childlike.
"He's here?"
He turned sharply, excitement rippling through him.
"Then what are we waiting for? We shouldn't keep father waiting."
"Yes, my lord," Kolpa replied, and the two strode forward.
Then with a forceful push, the twin obsidian doors of the throne room slammed open, the echo rolling through the chamber like thunder. Jace strode inside, but the moment his eyes lifted—
He froze.
There, seated upon the towering onyx throne, was Pluto, the fallen god of the Wealth that defined creation itself.
His aura poured across the room like a black tide — heavy, intoxicating, impossible to ignore. Even the air seemed to bow. And beside him stood Demiurge, expression unreadable, like a living shadow.
For several seconds, Jace could do nothing but stare.
That overwhelming charisma…
That ancient, crushing presence…
No matter how much power Jace gathered, no matter how many nations he crushed, Pluto still radiated an existence far above anything mortal or demi-god alike.
Finally, Jace regained himself. He hurried forward, dropped to one knee and bowed deeply.
"F-Father," he said softly, the excitement rushing through his voice. "It's been so long… I'm honored to see you again."
Pluto said nothing at first. He simply stared down at Jace — eyes like eclipses, unreadable, ancient. Then slowly… his lips curled into a broad, approving smile.
"Well done, my son."
Jace's breath hitched.
"I have seen your work," Pluto continued, voice echoing with divine authority. "Your strategy was flawless. You went first for the small nations… those barely protected by the Three Great Powers. You crushed them swiftly, efficiently, proving even the Great Powers could not save them. And in doing so, you broke the world's spirit. They no longer resist you."
Jace's cheeks flushed with pride he tried to hide.
"I—I am not worthy of such praise," he said quietly. "Everything I do… I think of you, father. My achievements are because of you."
Pluto chuckled, deep and pleased.
"Oh, Jace… you truly have grown."
The god then leaned back, expression shifting into something sharper — focused.
"But there is another reason I've come."
Jace looked up.
"I assume you've felt it as well," Pluto said. "The change in the air. The shift in the earth's pulse."
Jace nodded immediately. "Yes. The atmosphere has felt… different these past days. I sensed it, but I couldn't understand the cause."
Pluto's smile widened, but this time it held danger.
"That, my son, is what will end your boredom."
He paused, studying Jace's reaction.
"A new presence walks the earth. One who can manipulate soul energy… just as you can."
Jace stiffened.
"And he was sent by the Six Gods themselves."
A flicker of something — irritation, excitement, challenge — ran through Jace's eyes.
Pluto continued, voice lower:
"This person will not make things easy for you anymore. Do not underestimate him. He will resist you. He will stand in your way."
The room darkened slightly as Pluto leaned forward.
"He is your test."
Jace bowed deeply, one fist pressed over his heart.
"I understand, father. I will remain vigilant. I won't fail you."
Pluto smiled, pleased—though a faint, dangerous glint flickered behind his gaze, as if he already knew the clash that awaited would shake the world.
Pluto's smile slowly faded, the air around him tightening like an unseen grip.
"Now that the other gods have involved themselves again…" Pluto said quietly, "we can no longer afford to delay. Our time advantage is slipping."
Jace frowned slightly, his curiosity cutting through the reverence.
"What do you mean, father?"
Pluto didn't hesitate.
"I want you to begin preparations to destabilize the Unified Nation of Warmark. Weaken them. Shake them. Break their confidence."
Jace's eyes widened. "…Warmark?"
He straightened slowly, conflict rippling across his expression. Even at his level of power, the thought of attacking Warmark made him tense.
"Father," he began carefully, "Warmark may be the most weakened currently cause of their reputation and involvement in the war Four years ago among the Three Great Powers… but they are still the most dangerous. They're a military nation. Their entire existence is built around warfare and innovations."
He took a breath.
"And their technology… it's unlike anything on the continent. They claim it will change the world, and honestly… it might. Their contraptions — machines — devices — I still don't understand half of them. Their defenses and long-ranged offense are the best in the world. Even I… must take caution. And it's all thanks to their second princess, the Golden Mind."
Kolpa quietly nodded in agreement behind him.
Jace continued, voice lower:
"They don't have a large traditional army, but the force they do have — the Slingers — are unmatched. Their accuracy, their mobility, their weapons… no nation rivals them. And their Royal Guards, separate from the Slingers, protect the Warmark family directly."
He looked up at Pluto, worry mixing with respect.
"Father… isn't it too early to go after Warmark? I need more time to fully understand what I'm dealing with."
For a moment, everything was silent.
Then Pluto leaned forward on the throne, eyes burning with cold authority.
"Jace… listen carefully."
He raised a single finger.
"If Kosuke or Righteous fall, the world mourns. But if Warmark falls?"
A sharp smile spread across his face.
"The entire human continent collapses. Their technology is the backbone of modern advancement. Break them, and the others will crumble."
He lifted a second finger.
"Warmark's inventions — those machines you fear — are not ordinary, they are more dangerous than you realize. They are what is know as a ruin soul artifact. And they are progressing faster than anticipated. To be so smart to have already figured out their secret this soon and implementing it, that princess is a gem, and very dangerous — if left unchecked, they may produce weapons that can injure… or even kill… a demi-god."
Jace stiffened at that.
Pluto leaned back again, voice deepening:
"They have tasted ambition, Jace. If you give them time, they will reach for your throat."
Then a third finger rose.
"This new mortal sent by the six gods, that possess soul energy will likely seek refuge among the Three Great Powers. And Warmark, with their technology and pride, will gladly welcome a divine pawn."
His smile darkened.
"We strike Warmark not because they are weak… but because they are dangerous."
Pluto's aura swelled, filling the chamber with divine weight.
"You wanted a challenge, my son. Warmark is your test.
Show the Six Gods their interference changes nothing."
Jace swallowed, then knelt again, determination rising through his fear.
"Yes, father. I will make preparations… and move against Warmark."
Pluto nodded approvingly, the throne room trembling with his satisfaction.
"Since you understand, my son… there is one more thing."
He tilted his head toward Demiurge.
"You already know Demiurge's strength, and you have used the Lost many times before in your conquests. But this time…" Pluto paused, eyes narrowing with meaning, "you will need them on a far greater scale."
Jace nodded respectfully.
"Yes, father. Demiurge has been invaluable. The Lost have crushed dozens of nations for me. Their presence alone breaks armies."
Pluto chuckled.
"That is why I entrust them to you again. Warmark must be weakened — shaken to their core —and only the Lost can create the kind of fear I require."
He leaned forward, voice dropping low.
"You know what the Lost truly are: former celestial beings. Fallen gods stripped of their blessings. Exiled from the heavens… and also not welcomed in the underworld. Cast into that sealed realm where they wander as hollowed creatures."
Jace's expression hardened; he had fought beside these monsters before.
Empty, yet overflowing with raw Soul Energy.
Mindless, yet devastating.
Pluto continued:
"They may be shells, but they are powerful shells. And Demiurge's command over hollow vessels makes them unstoppable under his guidance. Together, the two of you will soften Warmark — break their confidence before they even see your face."
Demiurge silently bowed his head toward Jace, acknowledging the coming campaign.
Jace returned the nod.
"I understand. I will use the Lost with the same efficiency as before… and strike where Warmark least expects."
Pluto smiled, dark and proud.
"Good. Then go, my son. Plan. Prepare. The world will soon remember why they fear the House of Menssai."
Jace bowed deeply—Kolpa doing the same beside him.
"As you command, father."
And with that, Jace turned and strode from the throne room, Kolpa following close behind, Demiurge's silent steps echoing behind them.
The doors closed with thunderous weight.
The first sparks of Warmark's downfall had just been lit.
As the heavy doors shut behind Jace and Kolpa, Pluto remained seated on his throne, a faint smile pulling at the corner of his lips.
He turned his head slightly.
"Tell me, Demiurge… is it only my imagination, or are those two closer than I first assumed?"
Demiurge released a quiet sigh — not of exhaustion, but of acceptance.
"It isn't just you, my lord. Young master Jace and Kolpa are… inseparable. They trained together, plan together, survived together. And considering how their relationship began, it would be madness for anyone to predict they'd end up like this."
He gave a rare, soft chuckle. "Kolpa respects Jace deeply. He's protective of him in a way only warriors who understand each other become. And young master Jace—" Demiurge lifted a brow, "—the young master is the only one who actually listens to crazy Kolpa. Their minds align. Their instincts align. They are frighteningly alike.
Sometimes…" he added with a joking tone, "I feel a little left out."
Pluto let out a deep, satisfied laugh.
"Good. Very good. Together, they will be unstoppable."
Demiurge bowed his head with respect, but then carefully shifted the conversation.
"If I may… will you grant me the honor of explaining why you never told young master Jace that it was his brother—Jericho—whom the other six gods sent?"
Pluto's smile slowly faded. He looked away, eyes distant.
"I want to see Jace's reaction," he said quietly. "Whether he discovers the truth on his own, or sees Jericho with his own eyes… it matters. You know how close those two once were. Their bond was… unbreakable. I want to test the strength of Jace's conviction."
Demiurge frowned.
"But the young master carries your blood now. Your divine energy. Would he even see Jericho as his brother anymore?"
Pluto nodded.
"Yes. But the memories remain. I could have sealed them… but I chose not to. He must remember the pain of losing him. It fuels his hatred for the world. It keeps him aligned with my plan."
A dark amusement spread across Pluto's face.
"And the six gods… they knew exactly what they were doing sending Jericho to Earth instead. They wish to interfere — but this time, it will be entertaining. I look forward to the day those two finally meet again."
He rose from the throne, his cloak flowing like gold peeling off the ground.
"So yes… we wait. But do not worry, Demiurge. Jace is mine now. He will not waver. He has proven his worth."
Demiurge bowed again.
"Then we wait."
Pluto took a step forward, tearing open the fabric of space with a single motion. The rift crackled violently, like a wound in reality.
Before stepping through, Pluto spoke in a voice softened only by a father's concern:
"Watch over Jace and Kolpa. Kolpa is loyal and brave — but impulsive. I will not have that influence cloud Jace's judgment. Keep them out of trouble… please."
Demiurge lowered his head deeply.
"You can count on me, my lord."
Pluto smiled… and then the tear sealed itself shut, swallowing him whole.
The throne room fell silent.