No heroes would be permitted to stand against the Obelisk of the End.
The demonic horde that lays in wait of the Obelisk's clutches would begin to grow, mutate, change.
Demons of all shapes and sizes, spectres of humanoid figures, and undead warriors would all begin to raise from the shadows.
Children of mortal flesh, sons of man, hero-aspirants, long-traveled warriors, foreigners fighting for this very land, one and all- none would be allowed to stand against the Obelisk.

Not while the Owldrake still lives.

The battle against the Owldrake proper wouldn't begin for some time, but the base camps around the corpse of Vdalion would be constantly plagued with spectres and lesser demons, an endless force of the fel that would charge into the fray and attack those that sought to wrong their master.
A cause beyond themselves, dying for a love of their Archon.
To die for the cause of the Archdemon, Na'Ria, was to die an exalted death.

Life-force and mana in the area warbled as the day of battle soon encroached.
The coming of the Grey washed over the world in a blazing inferno of pure ether, a warning rocking the minds of those who came close.
The Owldrake's statement came in a haze of whispers, its demonic visage visible from the direction of the Obelisk's highest point, as a mirage.

Quote:

"So young, so foolish, and so daring.
So willing to die for a cause that lesser sons of man couldn't accomplish in more than a decade.
So ready to leave everything behind for something that stands so far away from everything you love and care for.

Do you not realize the danger you're facing?
Call me evil all you wish, younglings.
Say what you will of me, though you know nothing of mine nature, as you know nothing of yours.

But you encroach upon mine territory, aiming to take from me as if your visage of heroism was anything but naivety.
I will make a mountain of bodies from you all, should you continue to wrong me.
Until your world is glass.
Until you realize that your lives are evil, as well.

To live is to be evil.
And I will be the villain that you wish for me to be, if that is how you wish to meet your End."

Near the Dorian camp, their neighbors were training. The Wysterian Brigade were enstilling their swordsmanship, meditating while holding their sword forms - each one was slightly different, depending on the element of worship they'd taken to.

It didn't take long for Ryujimaru to stand at the altar, referring to his soldiers.

Quote:"My family, we are honor-bound, by our blade and our code, to assist our neighbors who'd welcomed us in.

We are to march with the Dorians.

Ready your sword, for they march an honorable battle.

In Jizo's flame, in Idaten's solace, and in Isetsuhiko's bravery - we march to cleanse these lands."

After the Captain's speech to his soldiers was over, the shrine of Jizo was set ablaze - signifying the journey of battle had began.

The Owldrake was gone.
Replaced with a Demon King.
Na'Ria had shed its skin, and become Imperfect.

So rapturous did the lesser demons and spectres fight on behalf of their Ascendant that it was starting to seem an impossibility to get closer.
The danger that the sons of man faced had only increased to a ravenous degree.
There was a warning, warbled through the mind and echoing out through the camps of those who wished to bring about the destruction of the Obelisk of the End.
The words of the Demon King need not be spoken, but they were.

Quote:

"If it is by my hands you wish to die, then die by them.

I no longer hold mercy in my hearts for any of you.

For too long have I been soft.

I will sing your stories.

The younglings that you are, would you continue to charge at me blindly,

will surely meet your Ends at the behest of Storyteller.

Because mine story has only just begun."

The moment was rapidly approaching – time was almost up, and despite the message from the Demon Lord Na'Ria, TAG showed no signs of relenting on their assault against the Obelisk of the End. The stakes were staggeringly high, and every member of the group comprehended the gravity of standing against an Imperfect Demon. Despite being nothing more than a band of teenagers, not a single one was willing to back down in the face of one of Meranthe's most formidable demonic threats.

Quote:

"None will die by your hand so long as I have anything to say about it. Demon King, Imperfect Demon - whatever you'd like to call yourself, it matters not. Those of TAG won't cower in the face of danger simply because it appears the odds are stacked against us. My friends are braver than that, we've all mentally prepared ourselves for what's to come. I fully grasp the peril you pose to Meranthe, and that is precisely why I intend to be the one to face you."

Birds of ill portent, of shadowy make and sporting hopelessly dark eyes, begin to swarm.
The attack of demons and spectres increase, and the negative energy in the air was growing.
Words need not be spoken for those who stood against a Demon King.
But words would remain as they were.

Through the throat of a horde of owls, the rally of Skarnfel surmounts into a blackened wave of Hel energy.
The fel would not bend before the sons of man.

Quote:

"You will be the first to die.

At the heft of Storyteller,

you will become something greater.

Because you will become a part of me."

Quote:

I have already given you my threats "Demon Hunter", and you ran from me with your friends because of them.

=

And now that you return to my corner of the land with a gang of delusional rat catchers, honor-bound nobodies, and the feathered hat society.

=

I've told you the consquences of such a return, and I intend to sear that fact into you, whether it be your flesh, or that of your kin.