Chapter 9 – The Harvesting of Varilia
Varilia woke to an ordinary morning.
Patrol units moved along the city walls. Vendors arranged fruit beneath striped awnings. Children ran between narrow streets while low-ranked heroes monitored the outer perimeter with casual confidence.
It was a stable nation.
Not powerful enough to rival the top capitals, but guarded by more than fifty registered heroes ranked between 100 and 200. Enough to deter threats. Enough to sleep peacefully.
Until the sky split.
A black ray tore through the heavens without warning.
It did not descend.
It carved.
Like a blade dragged across glass, the beam ripped open the blue sky and left behind a widening fracture of darkness. Wind screamed. Clouds twisted inward.
And from that wound in the heavens—
Something stepped through.
The demon was colossal. Horned. Armored in jagged obsidian flesh. Its eyes glowed not with rage… but calculation.
It did not roar.
It did not rampage.
It walked.
Its movements were precise. Mechanical. Every step measured, as if following unseen instructions.
This was not chaos.
This was execution.
“Black light confirmed!” shouted Rank 150.
Alarms rang across the capital.
Rank 133 was the first to see the full shape of it.
He stood frozen atop a watchtower, fingers trembling around his spear.
“…This isn’t real,” he whispered.
His legs refused to move.
His body understood something his mind did not.
This enemy was beyond them.
Then Rank 142 — known across Varilia as the Bowman — stepped forward.
He did not hesitate.
He drew his bow.
“Rainfall Dominion.”
The sky answered him.
Dozens—no, hundreds—of arrows formed above the clouds, each shimmering with compressed mana. They fell in perfect synchronization, descending like a silver storm toward the demon.
It was not a random barrage.
Every arrow targeted a vital point.
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The capital watched in hope.
The arrows struck.
Explosions rippled across the demon’s body.
Smoke swallowed its frame.
For a brief second—
Silence.
Then the demon stepped forward.
Untouched.
The arrows had not even pierced its skin.
It did not acknowledge the attack.
Instead, it raised one clawed hand.
The ground behind it trembled.
Metal screamed against stone as something massive forced its way into existence.
A machine.
Towering.
Monolithic.
Its structure spiraled upward like a dark cathedral, etched with glowing crimson veins. The base expanded outward, embedding into the capital plaza.
Then it began to drill.
Not slowly.
Not violently.
Efficiently.
The earth parted beneath it as if it were paper.
Within seconds, the machine’s core sank deep into the planet.
And Varilia felt it.
The air tightened.
Crops in the outer fields lost their color.
Green turned grey.
Grey turned brittle.
Livestock collapsed mid-step, eyes wide in confusion.
Civilians clutched their chests.
Every breath felt thinner than the last.
As if something invisible was being siphoned directly from their lungs.
From their blood.
From the land itself.
Low-level demons spilled from the sky fracture next.
Dozens of them.
They charged into the streets, intercepting the heroes.
Rank 145 — wielder of the Heavenly Bow — stepped beside Rank 142.
“Focus on the smaller ones!” he shouted.
He pulled a glowing arrow from thin air.
“The Arrow of the Heavens.”
The mana around him sharpened. The air bent to his will.
He released.
The arrow did not fly straight.
It curved, guided by his voice.
“Left.”
The projectile obeyed.
It pierced one demon.
“Rise.”
It split midair into three streaks of light.
Ten lesser demons fell within seconds.
Hope flickered.
Then the main demon moved.
For the first time—
It reacted.
Its head turned slowly toward Rank 145.
The next instant—
It vanished.
A sonic boom cracked the air.
Rank 145 did not even finish inhaling.
A massive fist collided with his torso.
There was no explosion.
No dramatic impact.
Just the quiet sound of bone shattering.
His body fell lifeless to the stone pavement.
Silence followed.
Rank 145.
Dead.
In a single blow.
Fear spread faster than the demons.
Formation lines broke.
Heroes who had trained together for years suddenly realized—
They were outmatched.
The demon returned to its position before the harvesting machine, as if eliminating Rank 145 had merely been a correction in its process.
The drilling intensified.
The crimson veins of the machine glowed brighter.
And the land continued to wither.
The report reached headquarters within minutes.
“Energy siphoning confirmed.”
“Multiple hero casualties.”
“Harvesting structure embedded in planetary core.”
“Immediate intervention required.”
Inside a dim strategy chamber, Aquelis stared at the screen.
His expression did not change.
But his hands tightened.
Behind him, on a covered stretcher, lay Sabrina’s body.
Still.
Cold.
The room was quiet except for the constant stream of incoming alerts.
“They’re pressuring you to deploy immediately,” an officer said over comms. “Rank 1 must respond.”
Aquelis said nothing.
He could go alone.
He could likely destroy the demon.
But that was exactly what troubled him.
The enemy knew his strength.
Which meant this could be a trap.
He turned his gaze toward Sabrina’s covered form.
Rank 12 had completed the assassination cleanly.
Too cleanly.
Trust.
That was the real damage.
If infiltration had reached that level…
Taking the wrong ally to Varilia could cost more than a nation.
It could collapse everything.
“I need a partner,” Aquelis muttered.
“But who?”
The room was brightly lit.
Yet to him, it felt suffocatingly dark.
Outside, sirens echoed.
Varilia was dying.
And Rank 1 hesitated.
Far from headquarters, within a towering citadel of black stone, the main villain watched the harvesting projection.
Crimson energy streamed upward like a reversed waterfall.
He smiled.
“So you’ve begun.”
Dark Soul stood beside him.
“The operation proceeds without interruption. Resistance is being eliminated.”
“And Sabrina?”
“Our loyal Rank 12 has completed the task. No suspicion has fallen upon us.”
The villain chuckled softly.
“Aquelis…”
He leaned closer to the projection.
“You rely on trust. On bonds. On unity.”
His smile widened.
“I have already taken that from you.”
He spread his arms as the harvested energy swirled around the monolith.
“Now watch as your hesitation destroys your own people.”
He began to laugh.
The sound echoed through the chamber.
Outside the citadel, even the lesser demons lowered their heads.
“Soon,” he whispered.
“I will not need demons.”
“I will not need heroes.”
“I will be the next god of this world.”
The harvesting light intensified.
And in Varilia—
The sky continued to bleed.
End of Chapter 9
The scale increases.
The stakes increase.
The losses increase.
It is the beginning of something far more dangerous.
