The sixth plane of the Abyss was a wasteland of ruins.

It hadn’t always been called that. Before the last great war tore through it, this place had been the territory of some forgotten power, lord of a demon fortress whose name was now lost to dust. Now, it was just the Ruin.

The shattered remains of a colossal demon statue lay half-buried in the rubble, a single, gargantuan leg still attached to its pedestal. Collapsed walls and broken ramparts cast long shadows where demonic maggots squirmed in the filth—creatures so pathetic the knights of the Light didn’t even bother to purify them. The only sound was the occasional clatter of loose stones, dislodged by a stream of piss from a Paladin who couldn’t hold it any longer.

"Honestly? I’m ready to go home," Cedric said, the words tumbling out in a weary sigh. "This place is a bottomless pit. It’s not worth purifying. It’s too big, the things in it are too strong, and we’re not up to the task."

As a Paladin blessed with the Virtue of Sincerity, Cedric rarely lied. Deceit clouded his connection to the Light, a stain on his soul.

"Sorry," he added quickly. "I’m not questioning the faith. It’s just... the Abyss isn’t what I thought it would be. It’s not just evil. It’s weak. Helpless. The things that live here aren’t as wicked as the sermons claim." He gestured vaguely with a thumb. "That demonic maggot I just stepped on? It didn’t even hiss at me. It just wanted to live."

Cedric finished his business, cinching his belt tight. He was the one who’d just caused the minor rockslide. A sense of relief, both physical and emotional, washed over him as he walked around the collapsed wall to find his partner.

"Dane, are you even listening to me?" Cedric asked. "Did you notice how everything just... ran? The moment we showed up, this whole area went dead silent. Not a single living thing for miles. Even the demonic wind can’t kick up any dust. We show up, and we turn this place into a deadlands."

He came to a stop beside Dane, who was completely absorbed in a small, leather-bound book. It was a well-worn copy of Tales of the Rose Knight

, a popular series about a dashing cavalier’s adventures exploring life—and the local female populace—in various exotic worlds.

"Dane," Cedric said, his voice dropping. "Sometimes... I feel like we’re the monsters here."

Dane was used to his friend’s constant stream-of-consciousness rambling. He’d tuned most of it out. But that last line snagged his attention.

"How the hell are we the monsters?" he retorted, snapping the book shut. It was a collector’s edition; he had to take care of it. "We drive out the darkness. We purify the filth. We pass judgment on sin and bring the Light to this pit. Tell me, Cedric, is that something a monster would do?"

Dane’s strength as a Paladin came from two Virtues: Sincerity, like Cedric, and Justice. They were the twin pillars of his faith.

"Hey, keep your voice down," Cedric hissed, clamping a hand over Dane’s mouth. His own complaining was one thing, but what Dane was saying bordered on heresy. "Don’t let the Deputy Commanders hear you talking like that. They’ll put you on trial as a demon sympathizer."

Dane’s face flushed crimson, his eyes blazing with fury. It wasn’t because of his own words. It was because Cedric, who had just relieved himself, hadn’t bothered to wash his hands.

"Goddammit, Cedric, you lowest-grade Paladin, get your filthy hand off me!" Dane roared, shoving him back with a burst of holy energy. He stared at his friend with pure disgust. "Next time you go for a walk, you go alone. Don’t ever ask me again."

He pulled out a clean white handkerchief and began scrubbing furiously at his mouth.

"Relax, my friend. I’m a Paladin," Cedric chuckled, completely unfazed. "My body is purified by the Light. It’s not nearly as dirty as you think. You’re a Paladin, too. You should know that."

"It’s not about being dirty, it’s about being disgusting! You know what disgusting is, right?"

Cedric just kept grinning. He slung an arm over Dane’s shoulder, his tone suddenly firm and earnest. "My friend, you dug me out of a pile of demon guts and gore with your bare hands. You’re telling me that wasn’t disgusting? In the Abyss, a Paladin is the Light. You just had a direct encounter with the Light. You should be grateful. When the Commander returns, our Argent Cavalry will be the Abyss’s..."

KRRAACCKK-BOOM!

Cedric’s words died in his throat.

Directly in front of them, in the very heart of the ruins, reality tore open. A massive, horizontal fissure of pure blackness split the air. Before either of them could even scream, a second, vertical gash ripped through it.

A giant, cross-shaped rift in space pulsed with an unnatural energy, and from its depths, a dark figure stepped through. A longsword hung at its waist, and a massive scythe was held inverted in its hand. It wasn’t so much walking as it was simply arriving, covering the distance in an impossible burst of speed.

"Who goes there?!"

"Identify yourself!"

The voices didn’t belong to Cedric or Dane. They belonged to the two Deputy Commanders of the Argent Cavalry—both of them archlords. Roaring in fury, their forms blurred as they launched themselves at the Deathly Soul-Reaper. In the Abyss, anything that wasn’t a knight of the Light was a heretic, a demon, a target to be purged. It was the unwavering creed of their order.

Ambushers. They die.

The moment Orion had breached the planar barrier, he was ready for war. He just hadn’t expected the first to attack him wouldn’t be abyssal demons or some powerful overlord, but two Paladins of the Light.

Their physical attack hadn’t even landed, but two lances of pure holy energy had already struck him.

Orion swept his scythe in a contemptuous arc, shattering the physical lances that followed into splinters of light. But the beams of holy power clung to him like napalm, sizzling and corroding the tendrils of his Deathly Soul-Reaper form. He could have dodged them, but he wanted to test the avatar’s resilience. After being tempered in the doomsday flames, it had changed, and he was curious to see how much stronger it had become.

Sure enough, after an initial, violent reaction, the form writhed and seemed to adapt. The corrosive effect of the holy light diminished significantly. It still burned, but it was no longer like watching ice melt under a blowtorch.

Paladins of the Light? Do they have a foothold on this plane, too? Wait... the intel Alexander gave me. He mentioned a virtue knight fighting a calamity lord. Could these be his people?

Just as the thought crossed his mind, the gleaming blades of the two knight-commanders came slashing down.