The Fallen Terror, the one leading the army of monstrous rats was heading straight for the B4 Key Entry Point.
There was no doubt about it.
They would cross the Strait of Magellan, moving from the northern edge of Tierra del Fuego into Santa Cruz.
That strait was the narrow throat between the frozen south and the vital farmland.
And B4…
B4 was the key.
Once they passed through it, they'd reach the settlements—then the fields.
And if that happened, the heart of the food supply would be lost.
Klaus pursed his lips, his gaze sweeping calmly over the assembled soldiers. From the outside, he looked composed—cold, even.
But inside… he was awkward as hell.
Inspiring speeches?
Not exactly his thing.
That job usually fell to Diego or Noah.
Noah, despite his calculating nature, always found the right words—clear, sharp, able to pierce through doubt and fear.
And Diego… Diego was just born for it. A natural leader. He could rally people without even trying. Half a smile, a few words, and suddenly soldiers were ready to follow him in hell.
Before him stood thousands of soldiers.
Ordinary humans encased in steel titans—five-meter-tall mobile suits standing tall under the blazing sun.
Each one carried a massive blade strapped to its back, and both arms were outfitted with devastating firepower—missile pods, rotary cannons, and flamethrowers. Walking arsenals, built for war.
A shame there were only two hundred of them.
Fifty were stationed here in South America.
The other hundred and fifty were already deployed in Antarctica, locked in battle with nightmare creatures.
Sure, the government had their own versions of armored suits… but those were clunky, underpowered imitations.
Cheap armor for the rest of the mundane troops who couldn't get their hands on Driver's genius.
Klaus's eyes slid to the trio just behind him—Anna, Mark, and Makarov.
Anna and Mark had served as his personal guards for years.
Makarov was new, recently brought in to complete the set.
Three guards. Just like his siblings.
Not that he cared.
Maybe that's why it had taken so long to fill all three slots in the first place.
He took a deep breath. If he was going to speak, he would do it his way.
Hecate and Belial watched Klaus with calm, piercing gazes. While they often fooled around, this time it was clear—they needed to remain composed and cold, and fight with everything they had.
At last, Klaus gave the people a humorous smile and spoke calmly, his hands in the pockets of his coat.
"Today, I ask you to lay down your lives for humanity. We are facing a threat we've never seen before. We are fighting nightmare creatures unknown to us. I doubt many of you will survive—but I'm not asking you to survive. I'm asking you to raise your blades, to swing them with all your might. To fight!"
He spoke fiercely, a dark smile appearing on his face. His voice rose in volume, speaking in energetic tone.
"I see that look in your eyes. You're afraid… and you should be. These things… they are not to be underestimated. But don't confuse fear with cowardice!"
He paused, his gaze sweeping over the army as a crimson, double-bladed spear appeared in his hand, formed from sparks of white light. He rested it on his shoulder and cracked his neck with an audible snap.
"Because no warrior of the Chaos Ascendancy fears death! Our brothers and sisters are out there, scattered across the battlefield—and they rejoice! They laugh! They do not fear the dark, and they are not bound by hesitation. Our names may one day be forgotten, but our purpose never will be!"
He spread his arms wide and laughed, throwing his head back. The scar on his face stretched into a deranged grin.
"If not here—then where!? If not now—then when?! And together, you will become warriors like the world has never seen! You will trample your enemies into the mud! You will fight, not because you are unafraid—but because your faith in me will be stronger than your fear! And you will make our enemies choke on their shame!"
He stepped forward, his gaze fixed on the horizon. From the B4 key entry point, swarms of rats surged forth like waves, flooding the land. Thick, green smoke rose from their bodies into the sky—poisonous and vile.
"Man's greatest joy is to crush his enemies. To see them fall at his feet. To take what was once theirs and make it his own. Mercy is weakness… and weakness is death. I will either find a way… or carve one into existence."
He raised his voice, eyes burning with resolve.
"So what are you waiting for?"
The once-quiet land suddenly shook with the thunderous roar of thousands of warriors. Their swords rose high into the air as they stepped forward, following their lord without hesitation.
"I will let you taste the sweet nectar of victory…" Klaus said, his voice low and commanding. "Death smiles at us all—so the least we can do is smile back."
He chuckled darkly, amusement gleaming in his eyes.
"You either win with me… or you watch me win. Because I am going to win, one way or another."
He turned, spear resting casually on his shoulder.
"Now, let's go. I don't need those rats making ratatouille."
His words ignited something primal in the hearts of the soldiers. Fierce battle cries tore through the air as they surged forward—undaunted, unafraid. Before them loomed a tide of abominations, creatures born from nightmares, eager to feast on human souls. Yet not a single soldier faltered. Instead, they marched into the maw of death, laughing and shouting as if daring the darkness to try.
"FOR THE GLORY OF CHAOS ASCENDANCY!"
"FOLLOW THE SMILING MAN!"
The flag of the Ascendancy rose high above the battlefield, fluttering proudly in the wind. Upon its dark cloth was a chilling image: a decaying skull entwined with roots and fungi, resting at the heart of a ritualistic web. Severed hands encircled it, offering macabre gifts, all framed by wild blossoms—life forever tangled with death.
It was hauntingly symbolic.
They marched toward their end, not with despair, but with grim purpose. Their courage was born from the very roots of the Ascendancy. And all of them—every last soul—offered their blades willingly to their lord. Because from the moment they chose this path, their lives had always been intertwined with death.
Klaus smiled darkly, gripping his spear as he launched forward with a burst of speed. His violet eyes burned with intensity, pupils narrowing as the world slowed to a crawl under his gaze. Every movement, every enemy, every particle of essence—he saw it all, calculated it, and then vanished.
He reappeared high in the air, far above the battlefield, his coat billowing in the wind like wings of shadow.
Raising one arm, he released his essence into the sky. It surged outward like a wave of cosmic dust, staining the heavens in shimmering shades of violet and black. The air pulsed as reality bent, his essence converging into his outstretched palm.
Klaus watched the formation intently—a swirling mass of power, vibrant and unstable. Then, with practiced control, he began to compress it. The chaotic sphere shrank, folding in on itself again and again, until all that remained was a baseball-sized orb of condensed amethyst light, pulsing with raw, unstable energy.
Klaus looked down at the advancing Abominations and muttered with cold disdain:
"Fall..."
The sphere dropped from the sky like a death sentence.
At first—nothing happened.
The Abominations, who had cowered in terror at the ominous energy pulsing from the orb, now blinked in confusion.
A grave mistake.
Boom!
Gravity collapsed. Space twisted violently as the ground beneath the creatures was swallowed whole, drawn into the sphere's core. The abominable horrors had just enough time to scream—once—before they too were devoured.
[You have slain awakened monster, Molerat.]
[You have slain Fallen Demon, Molerat Chieftain.]
[You have slain Fallen Beast, Infection Spreader.]
[You have slain Fallen Monster, Steel Eating Rat.]
[Your Spirit becomes vaster...
The sphere grew, hungrily absorbing all matter in its reach. Then, it pulsed again.
With a low, cosmic groan, it imploded—collapsing into itself—
and unleashed a cataclysmic explosion that tore through the battlefield.
When the blinding light faded, only silence remained.
Where life had once stood, there was now a colossal crater—jagged, smoking, and lifeless—beneath the man who blocked the sun itself, denying the land even its final blessing of light.
The soldiers below stared at Klaus in stunned silence, then at the colossal crater just a few hundred meters ahead—so close it nearly swallowed them too.
But their disbelief was swiftly shattered.
From the sky, the Darkest Knight descended—plummeting like a black comet toward the advancing horde of nightmare creatures.
His staff was already in position. And just as he neared the ground, he slashed downward in one fluid, deadly motion.
Darkness erupted.
From point-blank range, a wave of pure blackness burst outward, ravenous and absolute. It consumed the Abominations without hesitation—gluttonously, as if his heart itself hungered for them.
Their screams were brief.
The darkness didn't simply kill. it devoured their very souls… and then recycled them, distilling their essence into pure soul energy that surged into Hassan's core.
The Darkest Knight watched the rats coldly.
"I am the Firstborn of Destiny,"
he said, his voice cutting through the battlefield like a blade.
"I was born to bring peace... yet raised in endless war."
Hassan was strong. Countless mundane weapons had passed through his hands and turned into masterpieces. And by mastering each of them, he had learned to become a weapon himself.
His body was forged from the darkest, most valuable ore of the underworld. He wasn't a Stone Saint like his siblings—he was made from something superior. For something greater.
"I was forged in the cavernous halls of the underworld. Created by my father in "His" domain."
In place of blood, ruby dust flowed through his dark veins. In place of a heart, a furnace of divine fire burned in his chest. In place of flesh, mystical stone—born from the void's darkness—shaped his body. And where bones should be, branches from the Heart itself moved, giving him strength and wisdom.
"I have never known defeat. I have never bent the knee. I have never shown my back to the enemy."
His staff shifted, the shaft warping into a greatsword wreathed in dark flame. Shadows twisted around him, and in his other hand, an onyx shield emerged—solid and heavy with ancient power.
He raised the sword and struck it twice against the rim of his shield. Each strike echoed like a giant gong, ringing out across the crumbling land—a challenge, a declaration, and a death sentence all in one.
"You face a being who loves death… as much as you love life, you lowly creatures."