Daimon sat upon his throne forged from steel and shadow, his three loyal warriors standing beside him within a modest town hall. It wasn't grand enough to be called a castle, but it was his domain, and for now, it was enough.
The doors burst open. A humanoid Dreadlurk rushed in, dragging something behind him. With a single motion, he hurled a severed demon's head onto the floor.
"Your Majesty," the Dreadlurk bowed, blood staining his claws, "I bring you the head of an assassin who has been surveying our town for weeks. Judging by his attire and insignia, he hails from Kal'Nido."
Maya, ever sharp, stepped forward. "That's the town we planned to conquer."
Daimon chuckled darkly. "Strygwyr, send them a message. Mount this head on a pike. Deliver it to their gates."
Strygwyr bowed. "Are we waging war, my lord?"
Daimon's eyes gleamed with fire. "They started it."
Daimon was quite hasty with his decisions because he has been eyeing this city for a while. Originally this was the city they wanted to take over in the first place. So he really wanted to gain control of it right away.
"Allow me to accompany the envoy," Byakuya offered. "I'll bring a team of elite warriors. Some of my old comrades recently arrived. They wish to fight under your banner."
Daimon nodded. "Let them settle first. You depart tomorrow."
"I have teleportation magic; we can be there in seconds."
As the others exited, only Maya and Hephestus remained. Maya lingered, troubled.
"You've got something to say?" Daimon asked, leaning forward.
"Kal'Nido is a military state," Maya said cautiously. "It's ruled by Throgol the Mad Demon. Our army numbers 50,000. They have at least 350,000. We're marching into a losing battle."
Daimon's smile faded. "And you tell me this now?! Where are they?"
"Byakuya used his teleportation magic. They should be there already."
Daimon sighed, rubbing his temples. "Clear the room."
Alone, he spoke to the voice only he could hear.
"Malzahar... What do I do?"
"You could always unleash monstrous power," the voice replied calmly.
"You know I can't. I don't want to rely on your strength. Not yet. I want to rise on my own."
"Then solve the crisis you created."
Moments later, Byakuya returned, kneeling.
"Your Highness, the message was delivered. Throgol has invoked the Rite of Varkhall. It begins in three days."
Daimon narrowed his eyes. "What is that?"
Byakuya recited solemnly, "The Rite of Varkhall is an ancient ritual of war, where power is not inherited but seized. Born from Varkhall the Broken, it allows one force to challenge another for control of a city. There are no negotiations, only victory or annihilation."
Maya added, "If Kal'Nido sees our real numbers, they'll crush us before the Rite begins."
"They think we have an army, the same as theirs, if they send another assasin to spy on us then they will stomp and march right away. We have to do something."
The five gathered in Daimon's war chamber: Maya, Byakuya, Hephestus, Strygwyr, and Daimon himself. Despite their strategies, the numbers spelled doom. They can't recruit backup in days notice that could help them turn the tide of the upcoming war. Then an idea appeared.
"Dreadlurks... illusion magic," Daimon said. "What if we project an army larger than theirs?"
Everyone lit up.
"We'll create an illusion of a million troops," Maya said, eyes gleaming.
Training began. Forty-five thousand Dreadlurks assembled, practicing mass illusion in an open field. Meanwhile, Daimon and his generals ventured into unexplored lands.
They arrived at a forsaken graveyard. As dusk fell, undead soldiers clawed from the soil and surrounded them. Daimon held back, searching for the source. In a crumbling church, he sensed ita surge of mana.
He stormed inside and crushed the necromancer underfoot.
"Who are you?"
"A castaway... from the Demon Lord's army."
"How do you command the dead?"
"High-level necromancy! But only pure mana binds them. It can even give them sentience. Please... don't kill me!"
Daimon grinned. "There's no purer mana than that of a Supreme Dragon Lord."
"What? Dragons are extinct!"
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."
With a swift strike, Daimon killed him and devoured his body.
Outside, he gathered the others. "Let's go back. I know what to do."
Back in Dreadlurk Town, the illusion magic had greatly improved. Daimon brought out ten Dreadlurk clones and used necromancer magic to fill them with Malzahar's powerful mana. With a mix of high-level necromancy, a Great Dragon's blessing, and the mana of a Supreme Dragon Lord, Daimon now had everything he needed to bring his bold plan to life.
The result was instant.
"They're alive?!" Maya gasped.
"We can make an army from thin air!" Byakuya shouted.
Daimon smiled. "No more rites. No more delay. We march to war. I will devour Throgol."
Morale soared. At the battlefield, a million Dreadlurk illusions stood ready. Daimon took to the sky, channeling the power of a Supreme Dragon Lord. The others watched in awe as necromantic power surged through him.
When he descended, coughing blood, they rushed to his side. But he stood, eyes glowing.
Before him, an army of a million Dreadlurks stands.
"Now rise!" he roared. "Let the world witness the might of the Demon Prince Army!"