After the war god left, Kent immediately began his preparation. He first decided to send a word about the calamity and gather all the forces of 9 realms.
He walked forward while thinking about where to start.
Kent stopped on the edge of the Eternal Music Hall, gazing at the vast sky above. The golden command crystal, gifted by the Zi God’s Ancestor, lay in his palm, pulsing with faint energy. The wind howled, as if sensing the storm about to come.
With a deep breath, Kent infused his divine energy into the crystal, causing it to glow brightly. A powerful shockwave erupted from the crystal, shaking the entire sky.
Within moments, a thunderous roar echoed across the heavens, followed by the appearance of a massive golden rift. From within, an enormous, celestial dragon spirit appaered, its scales glimmering like polished obsidian, its wings stretching wide enough to blot out the sun.
The Zi God’s Ancestor looked closely, his massive body shuddering in the air before shrinking down to a spirit form, standing before Kent with a regal presence.
“Son-in-law,” the dragon spoke, his voice resonating through the space. “You have summoned me with the Dragon Command Crystal. Speak your will.”
Kent’s eyes remained firm. “Ancestor, I call upon you not for myself, but for the survival of the Nine Realms. The greatest calamity is upon us. I require the full might of the Dragon Army within thirty-three days. Assemble every warrior, every elder, and every hatchling who can fight. Bring them to the Sixth Realm’s Devil Mountain Range.”
The Zi God’s Ancestor frowned. “You demand much, Dragon Lord. What is this calamity you speak of?”
Kent shook his head. “Time is short, and I cannot explain everything yet. But trust me when I say, if we do not unite now, there will be no world left to rule.”
The ancestor studied Kent’s face for a long moment before nodding. “Very well. We dragons owe you much, and we shall honor your call. In thirty-three days, the might of the Dragon Army shall descend upon the Sixth Realm.”
With a flick of his tail, the great dragon spirit soared back into the rift, disappearing into the void. The sky returned to its normal state, but Kent’s heart was anything but calm. The first step had been taken, but many more remained.
Kent immediately rushed to meet his mother.
The grand hall of the Sworn Wizards’ capital bustled with activity as Kent entered. His mother, Madam Clark, sat on her throne, surrounded by various commanders and advisors. She raised a brow as Kent strode toward her with a determined gaze.
“Kent, what’s with the sudden appearance?” she asked, noticing the unusual urgency in his stance. “What brings you here in such haste?”
Kent wasted no time. “Mother, the Nine Realms are in grave danger. Phillip became the new Demon Lord in the spirit world, and has risen, leading an army of sixty-nine million demons. If we do not act, the Nine Realms will be turned into a wasteland.”
The room fell into stunned silence. Some advisors exchanged nervous glances, while others looked at Kent in disbelief.
Madam Clark crossed her arms. “Sixty-nine million demons? That is an absurd number, Kent. Where did you hear this?”
“The War God himself confirmed it,” Kent replied sharply. “And if that isn’t enough, the Space God could betray us at any moment, allowing the demons to descend upon the Nine Realms without warning.”
Madam Clark’s expression darkened. “The Space God…” she muttered. “He has always been an opportunist. If he stands to gain, he may very well side with the demons.”
Kent nodded. “Which is why we must act now. Gather every army from the Nine Realms. Spread word of the calamity and unite the people. If we do not, there will be nothing left to fight for.”
A heavy silence hung in the air as the reality of Kent’s words sank in. At first people were reluctant to believe the news. But it was Kent’s image, which made them believe the news.
Finally, Madam Clark rose from her throne and turned to her commanders.
“You heard him! Spread word to every corner of the Nine Realms. Call upon every army, every warrior, every mage capable of wielding a spell. We have thirty-three days. Let us not waste a single second.”
The room erupted into motion as messengers and commanders rushed out. Madam Clark turned back to Kent, her eyes filled with a rare mixture of pride and determination.
“You are asking for a miracle, my son,” she said softly. “But if anyone can achieve it… it is you.”
Kent smiled faintly. “Then let’s make that miracle happen. We must save our home.”
Kent wasted no time moving to his next destination. The 13 elders who were currently ruling the 8th realm.
Kent directly went to the hidden valley of the Thirteen Elders, where the most fearsome female warriors of the Nine Realms were trained in forbidden arts.
As he arrived, the elders, clad in crimson robes, stood in formation, their leader, old elder lady, stepping forward.
“Dragon Lord,” she greeted him with a bow. “What brings you to our sacred ground?”
Kent met her gaze. “Help… I need your help and I won’t take no as an answer. War. A war unlike any before. A demon army beyond imagination is coming. I need your help and every warrior you have trained.”
Elder’s eyes sharpened. “A demon army, you say? Are you certain?”
Kent nodded. “The War God himself confirmed it.”
A murmur ran through the gathered women warriors before the Elder smirked. “Then we shall fight. Our warriors have always lived for battle. We already promised our help to you. If the world is on the brink of destruction, then we shall carve our names into history.”
Kent bowed. “I am grateful.”
With their agreement secured, Kent moved on to his next destination—the Zi Clan. Kent’s master Tang Zi and his father, Jamba Zi, were waiting for him in the great hall of the Zi Fortress which was newly built.
“Kent, my boy!” Jamba Zi boomed. “What brings you here?”
Kent explained the looming calamity and the need for a massive force. Jamba Zi’s expression turned serious, and Tang Zi nodded in agreement.
“We owe you much, Kent,” Tang Zi said. “Our warriors shall be at your disposal. But even with all these forces… can we truly fight against sixty-nine million demons?”
Kent exhaled deeply. “We have no choice. If they reach the Nine Realms, we are doomed. We must take the battle to them.”
Jamba Zi chuckled. “A bold strategy, lad. I like it. We shall prepare at once.”
With the support of the Thirteen Elders and the Zi Clan secured, Kent’s final stop was the Devil Mountain Forest in the Sixth Realm—the place where his journey had taken a drastic turn. It was there he would begin the tantric prayers to summon the Three-Phased Old God.
As he stood before the vast, foreboding mountain range, a fierce determination burned in his eyes.
Thirty-three days. That was all the time they had.
He should make-it count.