While Lucifer's thirteen-million-strong Crusade marched across the invisible spatial highway, slaughtering Umbral Stalkers under the brilliant glow of Solaris's Blessing, another army had entered the dark dimension.
Ten miles to the east of Lucifer's position, the remnants of the King's loyalist factions huddled together.
This was the Coalition of Kings.
It was a fractured, desperate alliance of high nobles, wealthy merchant lords, and conservative Royal Generals who had refused to sign Lucifer's Awakened Contract.
They despised the upstart Warlord. They refused to pay a twenty percent tax on their Fate Energy to a man who didn't even have royal blood.
They had fled the burning capital through a different, highly unstable purple rift that tore open near the royal armory.
They were five hundred thousand strong. They had the best steel armor gold could buy. They had elite griffon cavalry, heavily armed siege mages, and crates of healing potions.
But they did not have a Warlord.
