Earths sovereign is a DEMON

One Hour Ago – The Train Crash
The deep hum of the hover engines faltered, a jarring shudder rippling through the train as it lost power. In an instant, the world tilted. The train lurched violently, gravity twisting unnaturally as it crashed from its hoverline. Panels ripped apart, sparks erupted, and the once smooth hum turned into an ear splitting roar of destruction.
Passengers screamed. The impact came hard, the hover train crumpling as it slammed into the earth, skidding through rock and soil like a thrown blade. Fire and smoke billowed, swallowing the wreckage as it came to a grinding, catastrophic halt.
Beneath twisted metal and fractured panels, Markus lay still—motionless amidst the devastation.
Then, his chest rose sharply, pulling in a ragged, gasping breath.
His eyes snapped open, disoriented and blurry, the acrid smell of smoke searing his lungs. His pulse pounded in his ears, a frantic drum beat that matched the panic building in his chest. Pain flooded his senses—sharp, hot, and unforgiving—but he didn't care.
Mom. Koari. Ichigo.
Their faces burned into his mind, the fear of losing them eclipsing everything else. Not his friends. Not his best friend Kai. No one else mattered right now. Only them.
"Move..." The word escaped his lips in a strained whisper as he tried to shift his body. A jagged piece of the train pressed against his side, pinning him beneath its weight. His arms shook, his muscles refusing to cooperate.
"Move..." Markus muttered again, his voice cracking with desperation. He dug his palms into the ground, ignoring the searing pain in his bruised shoulders.
I can't stop. I won't stop.
"MOVE!" he shouted, anger erupting from somewhere deep inside him. His body screamed in protest, ribs aching with every breath, but he didn't care. Gritting his teeth, Markus shoved against the twisted wreckage, his veins burning as he pushed harder.
It didn't budge.
"Move, damn it!" His voice grew raw, almost feral, as he yelled at himself. His arms trembled, his hands slick with blood and sweat, but his mind was singular. They need me.
"MOVE!!!"
Summoning every last ounce of strength, Markus roared as he shoved upward, his vision blurring from the strain. The wreckage groaned, shifting inch by inch until, finally, it gave way. The metal screeched as it slid off him, crashing to the side with a deafening thud.
He gasped, free at last, collapsing onto his hands and knees. Smoke curled through the air, and flames flickered in the distance. He forced himself to stand, his legs unsteady, his body battered—but his determination unbroken.
I'm the only one left...
As Markus took his first step forward, the ground beneath him trembled. The faint hum of something mechanical cut through the crackle of fire and falling debris. His senses sharpened, and he turned his head just in time to see a towering figure emerge from the smoke.
A robot.
Its cold, metallic frame stood three meters tall, its angular design reflecting the fiery glow of the wreckage. Its crimson eyes locked onto Markus, scanning him like prey. With a hiss, it raised a blade-like appendage that glinted in the dim light.
"What... the hell?" Markus whispered, his heart pounding.
The robot lunged.
Adrenaline took over, sharpening his reflexes. Markus dove to the side just as the blade slammed into the ground, cleaving through a shattered train panel. Sparks and debris erupted, the mechanical screech of the robot ringing through the smoke-filled air.
Markus rolled to his feet, panting, his muscles protesting every movement. His eyes darted to the ground. Among the wreckage, a broken shard of metal caught his attention—jagged and heavy enough to serve as a makeshift weapon.
He snatched it up, gripping the shard tightly. The robot turned toward him, its red eyes glowing with unrelenting menace. It stepped forward, swinging its blade horizontally with terrifying speed.
Markus ducked, the strike slicing through the air just above his head. Without hesitation, he darted closer, the weight of the shard steady in his hands.
I trained for this. All that time... all those hours.
The robot slashed downward, and Markus narrowly dodged again, the blade carving deep into the ground. Seizing the opening, Markus twisted and swung upward, driving the broken shard into the robot's side. Sparks erupted on impact, but the machine barely staggered.
Its response was immediate. The robot's knee shot forward, slamming into Markus's chest and launching him backward. He crashed onto the debris-covered ground, gasping as pain exploded through his ribs.
"Damn it..." Markus coughed, his body protesting as he scrambled to his feet.
The robot loomed over him now, its blade raised high for a finishing blow. Markus's mind raced. Move.... I must, Survive.
As the blade descended, Markus roared, throwing his hands up. With every ounce of strength he had, he caught the blade in his palms. The impact rattled through his bones, his muscles screaming in agony as he held it back.
"Not yet," Markus growled through gritted teeth.
Slowly, deliberately, he rose to one knee, his grip on the robot's weapon unyielding. His eyes burned with resolve. With a final shout, Markus wrenched the blade sideways, snapping it clean in half. The robot staggered, thrown off balance.
This is it.
Markus hurled the broken piece of the blade like a spear, striking the machine's arm and sending sparks flying. Before the robot could recover, he charged. With a powerful leap, Markus closed the distance, his fist connecting with devastating force against its chest.
The sound of metal crumpling filled the air as the robot collapsed, splitting in two under the sheer impact of the blow. Its lifeless remains hit the ground with a deafening thud, smoke curling from the fractured joints.
Markus stood over the wreckage, his chest heaving as sweat and blood streaked his face. He wiped his brow, his hands trembling slightly from the exertion.
"I told you..." he muttered, his voice hoarse but defiant. "I'm not dying here."
The distant sounds of explosions echoed through the ruined city, reminding him of his mission. Markus tightened his grip on the broken sword, his only weapon.
Mom. Koari. Ichigo.
He turned toward the city outskirts, where the warship loomed ominously in the sky. With ragged breaths, he forced his battered body to move.
They need me.
Without another word, Markus began to run, his determination carrying him through the smoke and fire.
As Markus ran through the ruined city, the smoke-choked streets twisted into a nightmarish scene. Flames licked the air, casting eerie shadows on crumbling buildings. Robots loomed like dark sentinels, their metallic frames glinting in the flickering light.
He skidded to a stop when his path was blocked. In front of him, four machines stood tall, their red eyes glowing menacingly. Behind them lay the mangled remains of a family—the blood staining the broken pavement a cruel reminder of the devastation.
Markus froze for a heartbeat, his chest tightening as his gaze locked onto the lifeless bodies. A mother. A father. Two children. His stomach turned violently, the image searing into his mind like a brand. That could be Mom... Koari... Ichigo...
Rage bubbled up inside him, raw and unrelenting. He clenched his broken sword, his knuckles white with tension.
"Out of my way!" he roared, his voice reverberating off the ruins.
The robots let out a mechanical screech, recognizing him as a threat. Two charged forward blades extended, while the other two held back, magic blasts gathering in their palms to provide support. Markus didn't hesitate. He sprinted forward, his sword held with expert precision.
The first robot swung its blade down, aiming to cleave him in half. Markus twisted to the side, narrowly avoiding the strike, the wind from its blade brushing his face. He parried the second robot's slash, sparks exploding as metal clashed against metal.
This training finally paid off.
His movements were fluid and controlled, his reactions sharp. The robots pressed their advantage, attacking relentlessly, but Markus was relentless too. He dodged with practiced precision, weaving between their strikes with the skill of someone who had spent a lifetime mastering the blade.
The thought hit him with surprising clarity as he moved, his body flowing instinctively. He remembered the grueling hours spent on the training grounds, the countless bruises, the sweat-soaked clothes. Years ago, they had called him the greatest young swordsman in Japan. A title that once felt like a burden, an impossible standard, now carried him forward like a force of nature.All that training... the sweat, the blood... it wasn't for nothing.
One robot aimed a blast at his back, but Markus dropped to a knee just in time, the energy blast searing past him and striking a nearby wall. He didn't flinch. Instead, he shoved back against the robot in front of him, using his broken sword to hold its blade at bay.
The second robot seized the opportunity, lunging with its sword, aiming to impale him. Markus's eyes sharpened. In a split second, he twisted his body, releasing the first robot's blade just enough to let the attack land—not on him, but on its ally.
The robot froze, its blade driven deep into its comrade's chest. Sparks erupted as its systems sputtered and died. Markus didn't waste the opportunity. "This is my chance!"
With a fierce battle cry, he spun on his heel and brought his sword down in a clean, powerful arc. The blade, broken as it was, still found its mark. The robot's head was severed cleanly from its shoulders, its glowing red eyes fading to black as its body collapsed in a heap of scrap.
Markus didn't stop moving. The remaining robots fired their blasts, but he dashed to the side, using the wreckage around him as cover. His body ached, his breath came ragged, but he pushed through the pain. He was too close now—too close to finding his family.
I won't let them end up like that.
He tightened his grip on the blade and turned to face the remaining machines, his determination burning hotter than the fires raging around him
Markus's breath came fast and shallow as he locked eyes with the final two robots. Their weapons charged, glowing violently as they prepared to fire. Move! He launched himself forward, the first plasma blast searing the air behind him.

 Markus ducked low, rolling under the second shot before springing back to his feet in a dead sprint.

The first robot recalibrated, its head swiveling to track him, but Markus was already too close. With a sharp exhale, he leaped, gripping his broken sword like a dagger. In one decisive strike, he slammed it into the robot's head, the jagged edge cleaving through metal with a shower of sparks.

 The machine collapsed instantly, its systems dying as Markus tore the blade free. The final robot fired another blast, narrowly missing him as he sprinted sideways.

Without breaking stride, Markus hurled his broken sword straight at it. The blade spun through the air, piercing the machine's chest with a crackling impact. Before it could recover, Markus closed the gap. He grabbed a nearby metal pipe and drove it into the robot's core with brutal speed. The machine let out a fractured screech before collapsing to the ground, its glowing eyes flickering dark.

 Markus stood amidst the wreckage, his chest heaving as the silence rushed in. He didn't linger. I don't have time for this. Wiping sweat from his brow, he turned and broke into a sprint, Sector 4 still burning in his mind. His body ached, but his pace only quickened. I'm coming. Hold on. Markus yanked his broken sword from the robot's chest, the metal screeching as he pulled it free, before sprinting toward Sector 4 without looking back.

The city around him seemed to collapse under the weight of an invisible war; buildings crumbled, some dissolving under blasts of arcane energy while others buckled beneath the crushing force of plummeting pods.
Markus turned his gaze skyward, the warship looming like a dark sentinel over the city. Its shadow stretched endlessly, a grim reminder of the terror now unleashed.
I need to get home..
His neighborhood. His family.
With swift determination, Markus set off through the ruined streets, his damaged sword gripped tightly in his hands. The acrid smoke burned his lungs as he pushed forward, his body battered and aching. His thoughts raced. Mom, Koari, Ichigo... Please be safe.
The streets were desolate, twisted remnants of what they once were. Fires raged, and broken glass crunched beneath his boots. The faint cries of survivors echoed somewhere in the distance, but Markus ignored everything else. His focus was singular.
Sector 4... I have to make it.
When he finally turned onto the street leading toward his neighborhood, he froze. A massive shadow crashed down from above.
The force struck directly where his house stood. The world seemed to slow as the explosion erupted, flames and dark smoke swallowing everything in an instant. The impact sent shockwaves through the ground, hurling Markus backward. He crashed into the pavement, rolling to a painful stop amidst debris and ash.
Coughing violently, Markus scrambled to his feet, his heart hammering in his chest. His voice cracked as he screamed, "Mom! Koari! Ichigo!"
The house—their home—was gone.
Out of the smoke, a figure appeared.
He moved with an eerie grace, his silhouette sharp against the glowing embers. A half-mask covered his face, a cruel smile carved into its design. His dark coat swirled in the turbulent air, and in his hand, a blade pulsed with shadowy energy. Clutched tightly in his other hand were three figures—Markus's mother, Koari, and Ichigo—all limp with fear.
"Let them go!" Markus's voice broke as he staggered forward, desperation and terror overtaking him. "Please, let them go!"
His mother's voice trembled as she cried out, "Please... let Koari go. She's only a child!"
"Markus!" Ichigo's voice was defiant, though tears streaked his face. "Don't worry, I'll get us out of this!"
The masked man tilted his head, his voice deep and mocking. "You love your family, do you?"
Tears streamed down Markus's face as he nodded frantically. "Yes, I love them! I love them so much!"
"Is that so?" the man mused. Then, with an almost casual motion, he released Koari.
"Run to your brother."
Koari stumbled forward, tears streaming down her face as she cried, "Big bro!"
Markus reached out, his arms shaking. "I'm here! Koari, hurry!"
The moment lasted a heartbeat.
A shadowy slash swept through the air.
Koari stopped mid-step. Her head tumbled forward, rolling across the broken ground until it came to a sickening stop at Markus's feet. Blood pooled around her small form, crimson against the scorched earth.
"No..." The word barely escaped Markus's lips before his mother's wail cut through the air.
"You monster!" Ichigo screamed, rage contorting his face.
The man's blade moved again. Two flashes of dark energy. Silence followed.
Markus's mother and brother crumpled to the ground, their bodies broken and lifeless.
For a moment, everything seemed unreal. Markus dropped to his knees, trembling as he clutched Koari's severed head to his chest. His sobs echoed through the devastation, mingling with the crackle of the flames.
The masked man laughed—a low, horrific sound that sent shivers down Markus's spine. "I let her go, didn't I? Right to hell." He tilted his head mockingly. "It's been far too long since I've enjoyed something like this."
Markus looked up, his face streaked with blood and tears. His eyes burned with something darker—something primal. "I'll kill you," he whispered, his voice barely audible. Then, louder, like a chant: "I'll kill you. I'll kill you!"
"Come on, then," the man taunted, spreading his arms wide. "Avenge them, little boy."
With a scream of anguish, Markus lunged, his broken sword raised high. He swung wildly, his strikes fueled by desperation and rage, but the man parried with ease. A mocking smirk tugged at his lips as he knocked Markus back with a single, brutal strike.
"Pathetic," he sneered.
Markus staggered, barely keeping his footing. Come on, you trained for this. You trained to protect them. Don't stop now.
With everything he had left, Markus attacked again. For a fleeting moment, his blade connected, cracking the man's mask in half.
The mask fell away, revealing the face beneath—Satsujin.
Lionel's aide.
"You," Markus whispered, stunned.
Satsujin laughed cruelly. "Disappointed?" Before Markus could react, Satsujin's blade ignited with dark energy, launching a blast that sent Markus flying into the remains of a nearby building.
Markus hit the ground hard, rubble collapsing around him. His body refused to move, but his mind screamed. Move, damn it. MOVE!
Satsujin advanced, his blade raised for the final blow. "Goodbye, little failure."
The blade fell—but stopped midair.
In an instant, Markus was gone. Satsujin's expression twisted in surprise as he turned to find another figure standing there, holding Markus over his shoulder.
Andrew Handerfall.
Satsujin's sinister smile returned. "How interesting..."
Andrew's gaze lingered on the devastation, his expression dark and unreadable. With Markus secured, he whispered, "You'll pay for this."
Without warning, chains erupted from his outstretched hand—massive, glowing with energy. They snaked through the air, crashing into Satsujin and dragging him backward. Andrew summoned more chains, locking Satsujin in place long enough to sprint away, Markus in tow.
"Hold on, kid," Andrew said softly, his voice steady despite the chaos.
Markus's consciousness began to fade, his final thoughts drenched in despair. Mom... Koari... Ichigo... I'm sorry.
"I'm so sorry," Andrew murmured, his voice filled with guilt. "I could only save you."
Markus's vision darkened, his grip on reality slipping as Andrew carried him toward safety.
The hum of the evac ship's engines reverberated through the air, growing louder as Andrew approached with Markus slumped against his shoulder. The metallic exterior glinted under the fiery glow of the burning city, a stark contrast to the destruction that surrounded them.
Two armored figures stood by the ramp, their faces obscured by sleek helmets. Their hands crackled with power, one wreathed in flames and the other shimmering with raw energy. They snapped to attention as Andrew approached.
"Make sure no one brings this ship down," Andrew ordered, his voice sharp and unwavering.
"Yes, sir!" one of them replied, the flames along his forearm roaring to life. "We'll hold them off."
Without slowing his stride, Andrew climbed the ramp and carried Markus inside. The ship's doors sealed behind them with a pneumatic hiss, and the interior lights flickered to life, casting an artificial glow over the battered cabin. Andrew gently laid Markus onto a medical stretcher, his movements precise yet careful. Blood stained Markus's clothes, his face streaked with dirt and tears, but his chest rose and fell—he was alive.
"I'm so sorry," Andrew murmured again, as if the words could somehow undo what had been done.
The ship lurched as it lifted off the ground, breaking free from the devastation below. Through a viewing port, Andrew cast one last glance at Sector 4. Fires raged across the skyline, massive plumes of smoke reaching for the heavens. Entire neighborhoods had been reduced to ash, and in the distance, dark warships loomed over the city like reapers.
This isn't over, Andrew thought grimly. Not by a long shot.
From outside, the sounds of battle echoed, distant but growing closer. Satsujin's speed tore through the streets like a storm, his pursuit relentless. The two armored mutants stationed outside engaged him with fury, their combined powers creating explosions of fire and light against the darkened sky.
Andrew watched briefly through the monitors as one of the mutants hurled a massive column of fire at Satsujin, engulfing him in a blazing inferno. For a moment, the battlefield was silent—but then Satsujin burst through the flames, his speed splitting the ground beneath him. He cut one of the mutants down with a single slash, the man's armor crumbling as his body fell lifeless to the ground.
The other mutant charged, energy crackling from his hands, screaming, "For the Admiral!" He unleashed a torrent of lightning, blindingly bright and deafening as it surged toward Satsujin.
Andrew clenched his fists, his jaw tightening. You're buying us time... and I won't waste it.
The evac ship shot into the sky, engines roaring as it ascended through the smoke-filled atmosphere. Below, a massive explosion erupted, shaking the ground and consuming everything in its radius. Andrew's gaze darkened as he turned from the monitor, knowing that both of his men had fallen.
Inside the cockpit, the pilot's voice crackled over the comm. "We're clear of the city, sir. Preparing to break atmosphere."
"Good," Andrew replied, his voice firm. "Make for the Defender. They'll be waiting."
The ship climbed higher, breaking through the upper atmosphere. The chaotic flames of Earth fell away, replaced by the dark expanse of space. It was quiet now, the silence almost suffocating as the horrors of the past hour settled into Andrew's chest.
The warship Defender loomed ahead, a massive silhouette against the endless void. Its sleek titanium hull gleamed faintly under the light of distant stars, the emblem of the Mercy and Mars Coalition displayed proudly along its surface. Flanking the Defender were its sister ships—the Zeus, weathered and battle-hardened, and the Voyager 66, pristine and cutting-edge.
The evac ship glided into the docking bay with a low hum, its landing gear clamping onto the deck with a metallic thud. The airlock sealed shut behind it, the dull hum of pressurization filling the cabin.
As the doors hissed open, medics rushed in, their movements swift and purposeful. Andrew stepped back as Markus was carefully lifted onto a stretcher, his unconscious form pale and still. The medics checked his vitals, speaking in clipped, urgent tones as they wheeled him toward the medbay.
"Make sure he stabilizes," Andrew ordered, his voice a low growl. "No matter what it takes."
"Yes, Admiral," one of the medics replied, disappearing down the corridor with Markus.
Andrew stood motionless for a moment, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. The weight of what had transpired threatened to drag him under, but he shoved it down. There wasn't time to grieve. Not yet.
He turned on his heel and strode toward the bridge, his footsteps echoing down the corridor. The ship's crew snapped to attention as he passed, their eyes reflecting a mix of respect and worry. They knew something had changed—something monumental.
When Andrew stepped onto the bridge, the atmosphere was thick with tension. Officers moved quickly between stations, monitors glowing with data from Earth. The sight of Lionel's warships rising from the planet filled the main display, their engines glowing with malevolent light.
"Report," Andrew barked, his voice cutting through the silence.
"We have three confirmed Lionel-class warships ascending, sir," the navigation officer replied. "They'll be in range within minutes."
Andrew's gaze hardened. "Prepare for a space jump. Take us to the closest Mars Mobile outpost."
"Yes, sir."
The engines hummed, a deep, resonant sound that reverberated through the Defender. The crew moved with urgency, preparing the ship for the jump. Outside the viewing port, the void of space began to ripple and distort as the ship's jump engines engaged.
"Are they following our space current?" Andrew asked, his voice calm but edged with steel.
The navigation officer's hands danced across the controls before answering, "Negative, sir. We're in the clear."
Andrew allowed himself a brief exhale. "Good."
The vibrations in the ship intensified as the Defender pushed through space, the stars outside blurring into streaks of light. The hum of the engines grew louder before, finally, the ship leapt into the safety of hyperspace.
A moment of silence fell across the bridge, the tension lifting slightly. Andrew stepped forward, his gaze fixed on the main display as the map of their journey unfolded.
"Estimated time of arrival?" he asked.
"Three days, sir," the officer replied.
Andrew nodded, his voice quiet but resolute. "We're at war," he said, the weight of the declaration settling over the crew like a shadow.
The officers exchanged glances but nodded in unison, their expressions set with grim determination.
"We are at war," Andrew repeated, his tone filled with resolve.
As the Defender soared through the vast reaches of space, Earth's fires faded behind the...