The battlefield stretched endlessly under a sky choked with ash and smoke, and Adrian Blackwood lay in the middle of it all with a hole the size of a fist punched clean through his stomach.Blood pooled beneath him in a thick, warm puddle that had long stopped bothering him. Around him, hundreds of corpses littered the scorched earth. Some were demons. Most were not. Most were his own men, soldiers he had personally raised from the dead and thrown back into the fight like discarded tools, because that was all he had left to throw.The Angel of Death. That was what they called him for it. Not a title he had asked for. Not one he was proud of.Twenty meters to his left, the massive body of the Demon Lord of Wrath lay crumpled and still, its seven horned skull split open by Adrian's final strike. Victory. If you could call it that when everything around you was already dead."Is anyone... still breathing out there?" Adrian's voice came out cracked, barely louder than a whisper.Nothing a

The Dark Empire stood on the backs of its five Great Houses, each one a pillar of power specializing in a different branch of the Dark Arts. House Blackwood ruled Necromancy. House Sinclair held dominion over both Curse Art and Weapon Art. House Ravenshaw was known publicly for Beast Taming, though their true power ran far darker than anyone suspected. The remaining two houses commanded Soul Art and Shadow Art respectively, completing the empire's foundation.Every child born into these bloodlines began training at three years old. Most awakened their Dark Mana by seven. A talented few reached Grade 2 magic by ten.Adrian Blackwood had been performing Grade 2 Necromancy before he could properly tie his own shoes. By the time he turned fifteen, he had reached Grade 6, a feat so absurd that the Empress herself had personally written him a letter of recognition. He promptly refused her invitation to visit the palace, calling the trip unnecessary in a letter so blunt that his father nearl

Lord Daniel Ravenshaw sat behind his mahogany desk in the east wing of his family's ancestral estate, drumming his fingers against the polished wood with the nervous energy of a man whose entire future hinged on the next few hours."It should have started by now." He glanced at the ornate clock mounted above the fireplace. "The signal was supposed to come twenty minutes ago.""Patience, my love." Vanessa Ravenshaw stood by the window, her dark hair swept up in an elegant twist that contrasted sharply with the cold calculation in her eyes. "These things take time. The isolation ward needs to fully stabilize before the portal can open.""I know what needs to happen. I designed the plan.""Then stop fidgeting like a child waiting for his birthday cake."Daniel shot her a venomous look but said nothing. The plan was perfect. It had taken three years of secret negotiations with a Demon Lord to arrange this night. One demon rampage through the Blackwood celebration, enough chaos to cripple

Adrian leaned against a marble pillar near the edge of the banquet hall, watching the oblivious nobility laugh and drink and gossip their way through an evening that was about to become the most significant night in the Dark Empire's recent history. None of them knew it yet. In a few hours, maybe less, word would reach this room that House Ravenshaw had been wiped from existence, and the five Great Houses would become four overnight.He almost felt sorry for them. Almost."Adrian! Come over here, we saved you a spot!" Lilly waved at him from a round table near the center of the hall where she sat sandwiched between Maya and Julia.He pushed off the pillar and walked over, noting with quiet amusement how the atmosphere around him had shifted since his dance with Maya. Nobles who had spent years crossing the street to avoid the Blackwood lunatic were now gravitating toward him, smiling, nodding, offering congratulations he had not asked for."Young Lord Blackwood! Congratulations on you

Adrian had always believed that cunning outlasted strength. A strong man could break a wall. A cunning man could make the wall fall on its owner and walk away before anyone thought to ask who was standing nearby. More importantly, a cunning man left no witnesses capable of answering that question.The Blackwood estate buzzed with activity well past midnight. Guards patrolled every corridor and garden path, their lanterns cutting arcs through the darkness as they searched for threats that did not exist. Gideon had not yet returned from the Empress's palace, and every servant in the household walked on eggshells, speaking in whispers and flinching at sudden noises.Adrian closed his bedroom door, drew the curtains, and sat down in the leather armchair beside his desk. The room smelled faintly of cedar and old books, familiar scents that belonged to a version of himself who had never marched to war.A soft knock. Then the door opened without waiting for permission.Thalia entered carryin