While the supernatural world celebrated small victories, Sataniel had already won. He foresaw the arrival of the children of Death and Famine. He knew that, in open battle, his Kings would be defeated. And therefore... he ignored the war. The true throne he desired was never the supernatural one. It was the mortal world. Only the Els could prevent it. But with their 10 and 6 most powerful children waging a desperate war in the Underworld, there were no more guardians to protect the humans. And then... the Harvest began.
The Silence of the Cities
No one noticed immediately. The disappearance of lights, the skies turning gray. The sound of prayers dying in desperate mouths. Billions of souls, all vibrating, suffering, screaming. No one answered. Because the gates were open. Millions of lesser demons invaded silently. There were no glorious battles. Only massacres hidden under magical veils. They didn't want bodies. They wanted souls. Emotions. Pain.
The Mistake of the War
And while the Firstborn fought against three Kings, his eyes widened.
"— ...no."
"— What?" asked the Second, in the middle of the battle.
"— They didn't want to win here."
"— What?!" shouted the Seventh, stopping for a second.
But it was already too late. The sky of the mortal world opened with red cracks. Pillars of darkness rose over entire continents. And from there, Sataniel's laughter echoed. Not arrogant. Calm. Cold. Calculated.
"— You think of war... — I think of eternity."
The Sound of the Last Trumpet
The war in the supernatural world seemed balanced. Until… the sound echoed. A single trumpet. It wasn't an ordinary sound. It was a cosmic order. The souls of the oldest trembled. The ground shook. And then, all the demons stopped. And retreated. They didn't fight. They didn't resist. They just... disappeared. Leaving the supernatural world in silence and dread.
The Hall of the House of El
The children of Death and Famine arrived with their bodies covered in blood, irritated eyes, and clenched fists.
"— Cowards," murmured Ellion the Firstborn, spitting on the ground.
"— They knew. From the beginning," said the Second, serious.
"— So... they won?" the Seventh, with eyes ablaze.
Before anyone could answer, a presence froze time. A dark veil covered the skies. The flames went out. The ground cracked. And there, in the center of the hall... the Angel of Death appeared. Without wings. Without a sword. Just empty eyes.
"— The war is over. — What?" asked the Firstborn, rising.
"— This fight is no longer yours. You are free from the obligation of being the Earth's babysitters. — But... the humans... they are ours— — No longer," cut the Angel, curtly.
The Decreed
And then, he said:
"— The Supreme Angel will come. The Executor. The Blade of the Most High. — He will destroy all evil. And everything that is not human."
Silence.
"— That includes you. It includes the Council. It includes the hybrids. — And if you try to stop him... — You will be extinct."
The Second gritted his teeth.
"— This is madness. We have protected this world for ages."
"— And the Firstborn added: — We bled for it!"
The Angel of Death just turned his face, tired:
"— The Most High did not ask for sacrifices. He asked for obedience. And you... forgot that a long time ago."
The Decision
The room fell silent. The entire world suspended between the fury of the children and the sentence of the heavens. Now, the question was no longer to win... It was to survive.
New Era, Old Ghosts
The war ceased. The supernatural world was in ruins, but the children of Death and Famine remained. Without the responsibility of protecting humans, they dedicated themselves to their people. It was they who rebuilt the fallen kingdoms. Reorganized orders, remade pacts, restored balance. And when the chaos dissipated, the entire Council bowed.
"— Let the two heirs rule. — The Firstborn of the Els. — The Heiress of the Supreme Hybrids."
Crowned before the nine races, between light and darkness, power and fear.
The Seed of the Third Generation
It didn't take long. The winds changed again. The Queen was pregnant. With twins. An omen.
"— Two will be born. One will seal. The other will free," whispered the ancient priestess of the Fairies.
But the court was shaken by another scandal. The Second El, so firm, so distant, had become involved with one of the queen's sisters. And she was also pregnant. The rumors grew like plagues. Some said he had been bewitched. Others, that it was forbidden love. But all were shocked. The mother of the Els was clear:
"— We are not animals. We are legends. Do not destroy the lineage for whims."
The father was brief:
"— If you can't handle the responsibility, don't set fire to royal blood."
The Firstborn, however...
"— It's already done. Take care of her. Take care of the child. And learn to think first."
Kings, Heirs, and What Is to Come
And so, amidst alliances, crowns, promises, and conflicts… The third generation of the Els was announced. Royal twins and a bastard son. Children of chaos. Grandchildren of war. The generation that could rewrite everything. But none of them knew that in the shadows, Sataniel still watched. And the Executor had not yet descended.
The New Generation
Thirty years of peace. Thirty years of glory. King Ellion Thar'El and the Queen of the Supreme Hybrids had seven children. The first — twins — were born as a dangerous echo of the First Generation: they inherited the full power of the father and the full power of the mother. Again, a mistake. Or a miracle.
"— Two suns in the same sky. One day, one will burn itself..." murmured the Elder of the Depths.
After them came two boys, two girls, and finally the youngest, the quietest and perhaps the most observant. The King's siblings also followed their paths. Most found their companions. And married them. Even the seventh sister, who seemed destined for solitude. The El Clan was at its peak. But the world did not stay quiet.
The New Threat: The Link Between Worlds
While the supernatural world prospered, the war in the mortal world corrupted the pillars of reality. Fissures opened between realms. The Physical Hell, the Underworld, and even the shadows of the Abyss began to infiltrate.
"— If we don't cut the link," said the Second El, "we will be dragged into their fall."
Then, for the first time, the children of the Kings marched as a unit. Seven heirs. Seven flames. The Second Generation of the Els was sent to seal the passages. And they ventured through forgotten paths, dead kingdoms, broken dimensions.
— They faced horrors that not even the ancients knew.
— They cut arcane bonds.
— They killed creatures that didn't even have names.
And they returned. Victorious. But something changed in them. They didn't say what they saw. Nor how they survived. The supernatural world welcomed them as heroes. But in their eyes... there were shadows. And the silence before the next storm began to weigh.
The Secret of the War: The Grace that Fell
The children of the Els, upon cutting the links between the worlds, saw what no one should see. Amidst the chaos between dimensions, they witnessed the Truth forgotten by most: The Most High, in His silent mercy, poured three drops of His Holy Grace — a substance so pure and divine that not even the Archangels dared to touch it.
The First Drop, fragmented by the Heavens themselves, rained upon all the universes where mortals had fought, suffered, fallen, and wept. Thousands of worlds felt its presence:
— The sick were healed.
— Fallen warriors were resurrected.
— Souls that would be condemned were ignited.
The Second Drop, however, was stolen. Hell, with tricks beyond logic, absorbed it in its deepest forge. Since then, its Kings became more than demons.
— They became sin and corrupted grace.
The Third... disappeared. It vanished from time, from matter, from Creation. It is said that it fell into the heart of an unknown mortal.
— A sinner who should never have had such power.
And then Heaven withdrew. As soon as the Rapture ended, the Angels departed, and the Most High, in absolute silence, entrusted the fate of the world to men. But these were no longer the fragile mortals of yore.
— They had drunk from the Grace.
— They fought alone.
— They suffered.
— They fell.
— And rose.
They created empires among ruins, kingdoms of justice among ashes. And even without wings or glory, they conquered a piece of the Mortal Realm that was once only pain. The war ended with the demons winning — but cheating. They broke the celestial laws. And, therefore, the Most High gave the sinners a new chance. Not for justice. But for love.
When the children of the Els told this to their parents... silence fell. Not even the Firstborn dared to pronounce judgment. Because deep down, they all knew: The next war... will not be between Heaven and Hell. It will be between those who had the chance... and those who think it was in vain.
With the ascension of mortals to supernatural status, the world stopped revolving around the Els. The guardians who for millennia protected the nine universes now saw themselves as loose pieces on a board that had changed hands. The Firstborn, Death in living form, walked through the fortresses of the supernatural world in silence, observing from afar the new "gods" that had emerged — blessed humans, proud, arrogant, disobedient. And despite everything, loved by the Most High.
"— It took billions of years for us to become who we are. They bleed for a decade and are already more than us?" he murmured, beside his brother Nightmare.
Nightmare didn't answer. He just observed the skies where once celestial trumpets played in honor of the El lineage. Now, they played because of mortals who didn't even understand eternity. The Queen, heiress of the Supreme Hybrids, kept the supernatural world in order, but her gaze wandered — as if she feared that the throne they built was made of glass, and that a new generation would destroy it from within.
The 3rd generation of the Els grew amidst this veiled conflict. Too powerful for this world and too proud to accept that Creation no longer needed them. Their parents tried to teach them to respect the new times, but the blood in their veins was old, ancient, forged by wars where gods died.
And then, the whispers began.
That the children of Death and Famine perhaps should never have returned.
That the now blessed sinners did not know what sacrifice was.
That a new imbalance was born — not from hunger, nor from hell, but from pride.
And when the Firstborn heard these rumors, he just smiled, tired.
"— Let the worlds remember... that we were made to protect. But also to destroy."
While the mortal world was taken and the smaller universes began to tremble, the Most High remained silent — not out of weakness, but out of principle. He, who had shaped the Void and filled it with laws and free will, could not intervene. Angels, demons, mortals, or Els... all were children of the same Creation. If one were favored, the balance would cease to exist. And chaos is not a mistake — it is part of the harmony.
But the fascination... that, yes, perhaps was true. In the secret chambers of the Celestial Kingdom, where not even the Archangels dared to enter, the Most High watched. Through mirrors of ether and veils of eternity, He saw the demons marching between worlds, saw the thirst for conquest take hold of the Seven Kings of Hell — not just for the mortal world, but for the Nine Main Universes.
They finally understood: they were not less than the angels, they were not rejects. They were creations. And therefore... they had the same right to exist, expand, and dominate. And if the Creator would not interfere, then everything was possible.
And the Most High, on the eternal throne, just gazed into the void with a slight trace of a smile on His lips. Not of joy, but of anticipation. For He knew something that no one else knew.
In the end, chaos purifies, and from destruction... something new always arises.