The day before the grand opening of the Origin Capital, the Demon Fleet emerged from warp.

Before them, light-years away, something glowed.

Faint at first, then brighter, until even the Demon Lord at the fleet’s head paused.

From the bridge of his monstrous flagship, Kraxis leaned forward.

A colossal web of golden-white light shimmered across the void, a formation that spanned an entire star system.

Seventy worlds orbited in perfect harmony.

Even Kraxis, a Demon Lord who had fought on the frontlines for thousands of years, let out a low chuckle.

“Magnificent.” His voice rumbled through the bridge. “I have not seen such a thing before.”

Xylos, his Seer, knelt beside him, trembling.

“My lord… the beacon has grown brighter… far brighter than when we departed.”

Kraxis turned one eye toward him, “Brighter?”

“Yes.” Xylos’s voice cracked. “Dozens more lives have gathered there. The signatures are dense, powerful, like a constellation of suns gathered in one place.”

What Xylos did not know was that when they departed, only minor clans had arrived at the Origin Capital.

But now, some of the top clans’ Stellar Patriarchs stood within the system.

Imperial envoys walked the halls.

The gathering had grown into something far beyond a simple clan opening.

Kraxis chuckled darkly, shadows coiling around his shoulders.

“Ah… so the feast has fattened while we traveled.”

He straightened, his dual essences flaring.

Xylos hesitated, his voice dropping. “My lord, I am not sure if we could fight such a large beacon.”

Kraxis’s grin widened, but his eyes narrowed.

He was no fool.

“We shall see if they feast upon us, or we upon them.”

Behind him, the demon commanders snarled in anticipation, their discipline fraying.

Their intelligence acknowledged the danger, but their bloodlust rose and drowned reason.

The stronger the prey, the sweeter the feast.

“Advance,” Kraxis commanded.

The fleet surged forward, black vessels tearing through the void.

…

In the calm light of the Origin system, ships and cities buzzed in quiet celebration.

It was the day before the grand opening, the day before the galaxy would officially witness the birth of the Origin Capital.

First detected by ships orbiting near the outer rim, their communications flared across the Origin Net.

“Unknown fleet detected!”

“Void signatures… massive shadows breaching the edge!”

“It’s the Demons!”

Panic spread through the channels.

On the outer lanes, ships full of visiting clans reported the same, hundreds of black vessels pouring into the system.

Minor clans had brought families, young disciples, merchants eager to trade.

“We have younglings aboard, we can’t fight a war fleet!”

Minor clan leaders shouted across their comms, voices breaking.

“How many ships?”

“Thousands! At least a thousand warships!”

Many minor clans fell into disarray.

They hadn’t come for war.

They had brought children, elders, scholars who had never seen battle.

Some ships immediately began powering their engines, preparing to flee.

Others froze, paralyzed by fear.

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…

Inside the embassy halls, the top clans watched the displays unfold.

Archscribe Morvain, the Lexarian envoy, leaned back in his seat, expression unreadable.

His fingers drummed against the armrest, a slow, deliberate rhythm.

“Interesting,” he murmured.

One of his aides stepped forward. “Should we offer assistance, Archscribe?”

Morvain’s lips curled into a faint smile.

“No.”

“But—”

“Let’s see how long this ‘Origin Capital’ survives its first night.”

He made no move to intervene.

Lexaria would not save a rival.

…

Elsewhere, in the Aethelian envoy’s wing, Castian stood before a holo-display.

The demon fleet’s formation rotated before him, each vessel marked with threat assessments.

The empire had already anticipated this.

They had fought demons for millennia, they could predict what would happen when such a gathering occurred outside galactic routes.

One of his officers approached, voice tight.

“Should we deploy our forces?”

Castian’s jaw tightened, but he shook his head.

“No.”

“But—”

“The Emperor’s orders are clear.” Castian’s voice was flat. “Let his clan and people die. Only save Adrian at the end.”

The officer paled but bowed.

Castian turned away, hands clenched behind his back.

…

Lady Seris, strategist of the Duranthian Empire, stood in her quarters, analyzing the patterns of the incoming demon fleet.

Her fingers flew across the display, pulling up formation data, ship classifications, energy signatures.

“This… is no raiding band,” she said.

One of her aides looked up.

“This is a warband. A full Demon Lord’s fleet.” She zoomed in on the flagship. “They came to hunt Stellars.”

She stood immediately, robes sweeping behind her.

“Prepare my shuttle. We’re heading to the Origin Construct.”

Her subordinates hesitated, exchanging glances.

“Lady, the Empress’s stance—”

“I don’t care.”

“If those demons destroy this clan, we lose access to the Knowledge Spheres. That’s not strategy. That’s stupidity.”

Within minutes, her ship shot from the embassy halls toward the Origin Construct.

…

And in the Duskbane quarters, Kaelith watched the void in silence.

Her silver eyes reflected the black tide approaching, and her hands tightened at her sides.

“Demons,” she whispered. “Drawn here like flies to light.”

One of her commanders entered, voice urgent.

“Matriarch, the demon fleet numbers over a thousand ships. Multiple Stellar signatures detected.”

Kaelith didn’t turn.

“Prepare the fleet. I’m going to the Origin Construct myself.”

The commander blinked. “You intend to go personally, Matriarch?”

“Yes.” Her gaze hardened, fire and ice essence flickering around her fingers. “He’s one of ours. I will not watch another human clan burn while I stand idle.”

Moments later, her ship cut through the void toward the Origin Construct.

…

At the heart of Origin Capital, Adrian stood within the Central Tower, the core of the Origin Construct.

Holo-screens surrounded him, displaying thousands of incoming void signatures.

The demon fleet had arrived.

Varik and Septimus stood beside him, their faces grave.

“My lord, panic has spread through the outer fleets,” Varik reported, his voice tight. “Dozens of minor clans are requesting immediate evacuation.”

Adrian’s eyes stayed fixed on the projection, “No.”

They turned to him, startled.

“If they run now, they’ll die before they reach the Nexus routes. The demons hunt the fleeing first.”

“They came to the Origin Capital.”

“We will not let them die.”

Varik swallowed, nodding sharply.

Septimus stepped closer, studying the demon formations, “The fleet composition suggests a full warband. Multiple Stellar signatures detected.”

“I see them.” Adrian’s fingers moved across the interface, pulling up essence readings.

Moments later, the hall doors opened.

Lady Seris and Kaelith entered the command hall.

Their presence brought a ripple of relief through the command floor. Even Septimus exhaled softly, shoulders dropping slightly.

The weight of two top-tier Stellars standing beside them was not small comfort.

Seris stepped forward, bowing slightly. “Patriarch Blackwood. I come as a strategist of Duranthia, not an envoy. If you call for aid, my fleet will respond.”

Kaelith’s tone was quieter, but resolute. “And the Duskbane will stand beside you.”

Adrian turned to them, meeting their gazes.

Tough times like these showed who truly stood for him and his clan.

“I appreciate it.”

“But this is my capital, I will face it first.”

Seris’s brow furrowed. “Alone?”

“Not alone.” Adrian’s gaze lifted toward the void again. “With what I’ve built.”

Kaelith studied him, “You’ve never commanded a defensive battle of this scale.”

“No.” Adrian acknowledged the truth without hesitation.

He knew he still did not have any large-scale battle experience or even personal mastery after the fight with Veythar. He had been too busy managing the clan and creating the capital.

But he created this formation with all things considered.

It was time to see if it truly worked.

“Then let me coordinate the fleet movements,” Seris offered, stepping beside him. “You focus on the formation.”

Adrian nodded once. “Agreed.”

Varik immediately began routing communication channels to Seris, while Kaelith moved to the tactical display.

“I’ll position the Duskbane fleet at the northern edge,” she said. “If anything breaks through, we’ll intercept.”

The command hall shifted into motion, orders flowing through the Origin Net.

…

At the edge of the capital system, the Demon Fleet finally arrived in full force.

Through his warship’s viewport, Kraxis saw the shining Origin system, its suns, its alignment, its glittering worlds.

Dozens of inhabited planets orbiting in perfect symmetry, their surfaces glowing with cities and life.

His grin widened, fangs bared.

“Beautiful.” His voice rumbled with dark satisfaction.

Behind him, demon commanders snarled in anticipation.

He raised his hand. “Let the stars burn.”

Thousands of black ships roared in unison.

Essence cannons unleashed torrents of red and violet energy toward the Origin system, waves upon waves of annihilation.

The attacks tore through space, streaking toward the planets like falling meteors.

Sensing the attacks, the formation responded.

Space itself bent around the massive star system, the attacks that hit it were dispersed and redirected into void pockets.

The entire attack dispersed like mist into nothingness.

What little energy escaped was redirected, scattered into tiny spatial fractures before dissipating harmlessly.

Those who watched from afar gasped.

From the embassies, from the ships, they saw the void itself bend, like a living thing shielding its children.

“This—” Lady Seris whispered, awestruck. “This isn’t a shield…”

“It’s a spatial maze,” Adrian finished, “Every attack enters folded space. By the time it exits, the energy will scatter across a thousand pockets.”

In the embassy halls, Archscribe Morvain leaned forward, his smirk fading.

“A space formation on this scale… Impossible.” His fingers tightened on the armrest. “Where did he find enough void crystals to feed it?”

Meanwhile, on the Demon flagship, Kraxis laughed, a deep, guttural roar that shook his ship.

“A space formation, is it?”

He spread his wings of burning shadow, essence flaring around him.

“Good! Let it hold. The hunt is sweeter when the prey resists!”

Behind him, a thousand demon warships surged forward, toward the shining Origin Capital.

The greatest battle the newborn clan had ever faced had just begun.

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