The party ended with a slow unraveling of voices and music, like the tail end of a symphony tapering into silence. The golden lights that had once bathed the great hall began to dim, and servants moved through the aisles with practiced efficiency, collecting glasses and trays while whispering polite farewells.

The nobles, heirs, and warriors were already turning their attention to what came next. It wasn't just the end of a celebration—it was the quiet before a storm.

Marsai, still composed despite the exhaustion in her eyes, oversaw the disassembly with quiet pride. The execution had been perfect. Food had been divine, conversation artfully balanced between formality and curiosity, and Nioh's declaration had accomplished the impossible: unifying intrigue, fear, and anticipation in one explosive moment.

One by one, the various nobles made their way to the landing pads surrounding the citadel, their personal transports and warships already prepared. Each vessel was a display of wealth and legacy. Long, angular cruisers bearing house sigils hovered on anti-gravity platforms. Some were lean and minimalist, others monstrous and overly ornamented. Noble banners fluttered against the night wind, illuminated by the docking bay lights.

Above them all, anchored to the upper citadel and pulsing with pale green light, was Nioh's ship.

The Harrower.

Sleek and dark, almost skeletal in design, it gave off a predatory air. Unlike the ornamental crafts of the others, The Harrower was designed for war. It didn't boast of wealth; it threatened.

The heirs followed him. Not because they were loyal, but because curiosity had infected them.

To lay claim to the Hellscape—to conquer it—was to attempt something no marquis had dared. Most had written the cursed land off as an eternal scar. A sealed, restricted zone surrounded by containment towers and surveillance arrays. The toxic Hellcloud had turned entire battalions into undead horrors during past attempts.

And yet Nioh had dared to announce it as his first conquest.

The heirs were not about to let history happen without bearing witness.

Drones lifted off, their lenses adjusting for the low-light environment. A hundred different news networks connected to the feeds, transmitting across all fiefdoms. Commentators began their excited chatter, some skeptical, others almost manic with glee. Rumors were already trending on the global net.

Nioh Glev self-crowned! Absolute Marquis?

Is the Hellscape a death wish or a declaration of power?

Warden-killing weapon? What is the Absolute hiding?

The noble convoys moved like a migrating fleet through the clouds, each ship joining the formation behind The Harrower. The sky cracked open in pale streaks as they entered high altitude. Automated flight paths rerouted to avoid the procession. A separate escort of government-authorized vessels flanked them, silently observing.

The Hellscape loomed ahead.

From orbit, it resembled a bleeding wound on the continent. A swirling maelstrom of black and red clouds obscured any view of the land below. Static interference pulsed from the zone, making mapping impossible. No one knew what it looked like beneath the toxic cloud—only that the ground was corrupted, twisted, and crawling with undead horrors.

The edge of the zone was guarded by a ring of towering pylons—the Seal Line. Dozens of kilometers apart, they emitted a radiant field that kept the corruption from spreading. Between them, automated turrets and null-energy barriers had been erected. This was not just a forbidden zone. It was a place of quarantine.

As the fleet neared the perimeter, sirens sounded.

"You are approaching a restricted dead zone," a calm, artificial voice declared from the comms. "Please transmit authorization."

Nioh, seated in the command throne of The Harrower, extended his hand toward the control orb. The ship responded instantly, and a pulsing golden sigil appeared in the air.

"Nioh Glev. Absolute Marquis. This is my right of conquest."

There was a delay.

Then the voice returned. "Authorization accepted. Proceed."

The fleet passed through the Seal Line, where a subtle shift in pressure could be felt even inside the vessels. The air grew heavy. Monitors flickered. Several noble ships faltered, their pilots compensating for the magnetic anomalies that began to interfere with systems.

But The Harrower remained steady.

"Begin live broadcast," Nioh commanded.

Within seconds, all drones reoriented. The feed went global. Billions of viewers watched as the first noble fleet in centuries entered the Hellscape.

Then they broke through the upper cloud.

Below them was ruin.

A landscape of blackened stone and bubbling crimson rivers stretched for miles. Twisted trees made of bone and ash jutted out of the land like skeletal hands. Massive carcasses of ancient beasts lay half-embedded in obsidian hills. The terrain shimmered with unstable energy, as if the land itself were breathing.

And amid the ruin, they saw movement.

Undead.

Thousands of them.

They writhed in silence, some crawling, some walking, others leaping across ridges and tearing into each other. None looked up. None noticed the arrival of the fleet. The Hellscape had no eyes for the sky.

Nioh rose from his throne, cloak trailing behind him. From the rear of the chamber, Magnus approached, holding a black cylinder adorned with silver glyphs. He extended it toward Nioh, who took it and pressed the seal.

The cylinder hissed.

It unfolded, becoming a long weapon. A spear, humming with pale green light, carved with dense, ancient script.

Nioh looked to the crew.

"Prepare the drop."

His chamber opened. Wind screamed inside the ship.

One by one, nobles watched from their own ships. Some were frozen in awe. Others whispered prayers.

The Absolute Marquis had begun his descent.

Nioh still in his wheelchair, slid onto the drop platform. With the infinity umbrella in hand, he fell forward, diving into the cursed land like a comet.

Akron, moved immediately as she began to distribute boxes to the five heirs.

"You need to move to these locations. When Nioh gives the signal for the warden killing weapon to work you need to protect the cubes at all costs." She said before turning her gaze toward the wheelchair, falling deep into the fog

"Send the drones," She commanded, and the Drones followed while the world watched.

Tomorrow, the legends would begin.

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