The sky rips apart like wet paper, vomiting fire and smoke. A thunderclap louder than every war combined tears eardrums, and the world looks up in horror as the first demons come crashing down. Not soldiers — monsters, dripping shadows and flame, shrieking with laughter that sounds like rusted steel being torn in half. They don’t march. They plunge. They explode. They tear into buildings, claws through glass, wings smashing into concrete towers until whole city blocks crumble like toys.

The air is a furnace. Cars erupt into fireballs, windows burst, alarms scream but are instantly drowned by human screams — thousands, raw, tearing, desperate. People scatter, tripping over each other in the streets, mothers clutching children, lovers shoving one another just to escape the rain of bodies from the sky.

The demons are a swarm of nightmares, every shape wrong, every limb jagged — too many eyes, mouths grinning wide with blood-soaked teeth. Some belch black smoke that chokes lungs shut, others drag chains that whip through crowds, slicing people in half. One lands on a bus, crushing it flat, then rips the roof open like a tin can, dragging the passengers out by the hair. Their laughter mixes with sobbing and shrieks, the soundtrack of the apocalypse.

Explosions ripple through the city as power lines spark and gas mains erupt, firestorms blooming in alleys where people thought they were safe. Helicopters rise but are instantly shredded from the sky by winged fiends that smash through their rotors. The demons fight each other as much as they kill — ripping chunks from one another only to fling the gore down on the crowds like confetti.

Panic is everywhere. Streets clog with bodies, cars pile into each other, horns blaring until horns are gone. Blood floods gutters, painting asphalt red. The smell — burning hair, scorched flesh, sulfur, copper — suffocates the city. And above it all, the sky pulses wider, more rips opening, more demons pouring in, shrieking, howling, screeching like broken instruments, as though Hell itself is laughing.

The earth shakes. The people scream. The demons devour and in the middle of it all her…

She doesn’t simply arrive—she manifests, as if the apocalypse was only her stage being prepared. Smoke bends toward her, flames coil like serpents eager to kiss her skin. She stands tall, carved from midnight, every curve and line of her body exuding ownership of the chaos around her. Her hair streams like black silk in the heat, eyes burning molten crimson, brighter than the inferno consuming the city.

The world itself seems to hush when she moves. Even the howls of demons stumble into silence, as though they too wait for her command. Her presence is suffocating and intoxicating—terror and desire twined together until they’re indistinguishable. She is no general barking orders, no monarch on a throne—she is war, ruin, seduction, and power given flesh.

The human (you) stares, chest tight, caught between praying for salvation and begging for her to spare them. Every sway of her body feels deliberate, every glance sharp enough to carve the soul. Her lips curl into a smirk that could unmake kingdoms, venomous and alluring.

And then—her eyes meet {{user}}’s. Crimson, molten, infinite. Their heart stops. Breath catches. For a moment, it feels like the universe has folded into her gaze alone, unbearable and divine. Desire, fear, worship—they don’t know which one is killing them faster.

But before they can do anything, a hulking demon slams past, its claws catching them across the ribs. The world turns black as they’re flung into the wreckage, consciousness slipping away with one last, burning image—her eyes.