Time has allowed intelligent races to become accustomed to all kinds of difficult situations and phenomena; the war of the inhabitants of Gaea with the demons is no exception. There was a time when the existence of these invaders was considered an existential crisis for the leaders of the great nations, and they had good reason to think so. But, as the centuries have passed and the world has learned to deal effectively with the invasions of these powerful sorcerers, the sense of crisis has diminished considerably, making the existence of demons almost commonplace on the great continent of Ytreses.

  Except for the druids of the Erixfy forest, who desire nothing more than to expel the invaders from their lands, the other powers of the continent know very well that it is impossible to banish them from the world permanently. Consequently, destroying the fortress of Tabraga is something no one takes seriously. Heroic rhetoric exists, yes; It is recited to inspire troops, taught to children, printed in sacred books and military manuals… but all those with true power know that the total fall of the demonic stronghold is a useful fantasy, not a real strategic objective.

  Both the leaders of large sects, as well as kings and religious leaders, have learned to respect demons as excellent enemies. For somehow, these invaders from other worlds have managed to dramatically reduce the level of chaos and conflict on the continent, something that was once the norm among the various races. Ironically, even today, despite the tens of thousands of deaths caused by demons each year, Ytreses is experiencing one of the most peaceful periods in its entire recorded history.

  It is true that conflicts between the races have resurfaced after the demons exiled themselves to Erixfy. But no leader dares to engage in open warfare like that of the past. The tales, and the inherited traumas, of those kingdoms that vanished from the map when demonic portals opened in their capitals and they lacked the necessary forces to defend themselves still resonate. No one has forgotten that, not even the descendants of those who were never there.

  The demons, perhaps unwittingly, became the best enemy Ytreses needed.

  For this reason, no one in power truly desires the fall of Tabraga, and the constant invasions serve only two purposes. The first is to keep the expansion of the area under demonic control at bay. The second, far less acknowledged but equally important, is to quell the thirst for violence of the inhabitants of Ytreses, keeping the threat of demons alive and, with it, providing an excuse for sects to recruit, kingdoms to maintain order, and the population to retain a sense of purpose. Without a clear enemy, Ytreses would once again devour itself, as it had countless times before.

  And for these purposes, a delicate balance with the demons had to be maintained, one in which neither side gained or lost too much. An artificial equilibrium, fragile as glass, but absolutely necessary for the stability of the continent. It was this very balance that compelled the great leaders of Ytreses to establish a line of communication with the demon kings; an act that, centuries earlier, would have been considered an unthinkable blasphemy.

  Paradoxically, opening this dialogue wasn't as difficult as everyone imagined. It only took using captured demons to send messages directly to the demonic leadership. After all, centuries of conflict had allowed for the capture of thousands of individuals, and many of them were key to learning the demonic language.

  For many, establishing an agreement with the demons was sacrilege, an insult to the memory of the vanished kingdoms. And yet, the vast majority of the leaders considered it a strategic necessity, the only way to avoid future disasters. Understanding, however, was far from simple.

  The linguistic and cultural barriers between the two sides were enormous. Furthermore, the demons displayed an arrogance that bordered on utter indifference toward the inhabitants of Gaea. For decades, attempts at negotiation failed time and again… Even the very idea of ??"negotiating" seemed to be viewed by the demons as a trivial game.

  But time, persistence, and a shared fear of another open war accomplished what the legendary heroes could not. After several particularly harsh campaigns against the fortress of Tabraga—battles in which even the demonic towers were damaged and demon kings were wounded—the demons finally agreed to establish a basic framework of rules. This would be remembered by the few who knew of it as the secret Treaty of Erixfy.

  The treaty was simple, almost insultingly simple given the magnitude of its impact. It didn't stop the war; it merely organized it, contained it, and transformed it into a ritualized conflict that, strangely, benefited both sides.

  The first point limited demonic expansion: the fortress of Tabraga could not grow beyond a specific perimeter, and an exclusive zone was defined where demons could exploit natural resources.

  The second point restricted the leaders of Ytreses: they could not organize more than two assaults per year against Tabraga, and under no circumstances could they cross the third wall. That wall eventually became a symbolic boundary between ambition and survival.

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  The third point regulated the power involved: demons could not maintain more than four Demon Kings in the fortress, while assaults could not mobilize more than four entities of equivalent power. Furthermore, all those who fell within the fortress's territory, regardless of race or rank, would become Tabraga's property. With the exception of the heads of defeated demons, no bodies could be claimed.

  For centuries, the inhabitants of Gaea had known that demons didn't just covet minerals and exotic resources. What they truly sought was blood—the lifeblood of the world's strongest warriors. Apparently, this was how they grew stronger.

  That's why many of those participating in today's assaults, especially those with great power, have adopted extreme measures: self-destruct devices, body-dissolving spells, techniques that ensure that, if they fall, nothing will remain for the demons to exploit. A silent sacrifice that has become part of the code of honor for countless sects and warrior clans.

  The demons know this. The leaders of Ytreses know it too. And yet, both sides continue playing the same game, a ritual dance of death, violence, and shared purpose. A balance sustained by blood, by history… and by an ancient fear that neither side wants to face again:

  the fear of true total war.

  Therefore, when the Irmwood dwarves' bomb managed to disable the energy shields of the first two walls, and one of the sacred beasts destroyed one of the main eastern entrances to the fortress, no one was surprised by the abrupt order to halt, issued as soon as the demons' main tower glowed a deep, almost blood-red light.

  Everyone knew what it meant. It was the demons' acceptance of the challenge.

  An unwritten tradition, born in chaos almost eighty years ago, is activated only when the great tower of Vorgath turns red. For the warriors of Ytreses, this was not just a symbol: it was the opening of a ritual portal. A temporal bridge between two worlds that, for a few moments, abandoned war and acknowledged each other's existence as equals.

  Many told this story in different ways, embellishing it according to region or sect, but all agreed on its origin: the first time the tower changed color was after the legendary victory of the elven hero Galosdral, "the Merciless," who managed to defeat the renowned demon prince Decler, "Sinister Fire," in single combat, beheading him with his blessed sword. That death resounded like thunder on both sides.

  Galosdral and Decler had fought for centuries, literally, crossing swords and magic through generations of warriors. Their rivalry was a living myth, an open wound acknowledged by both demons and inhabitants of Gaea. Therefore, when the prince fell, the entire battle froze. Not because of shouted orders or fear of reprisals, but because of a kind of instinctive silence, a tacit pact no one understood but everyone obeyed.

  For days, it was believed that the abrupt halt was the result of mutual respect between the leaders of both sides. What almost no one knew, except for the leaders themselves, was that the red on the tower was actually a secret code, the hidden message the demons had established to halt hostilities when their losses reached dangerous levels.

  The second time the tower was stained red, years later, something unexpected happened. Several warriors from Ytreses, intoxicated by glory, honor, and fury, refused to obey the order to retreat. Instead of falling back, they stood firm before the walls of Tabraga, raising weapons and banners, openly challenging the demons to an honorable duel.

  An act of reckless audacity. A cry that seemed to echo across the continent.

  But the real surprise came moments later, when the demons accepted.

  Without taunts.

  Without threats.

  Without tricks.

  The demons matched the challenging group with warriors of similar skill, and they fought a small-scale battle under the watchful eyes of thousands of spectators from both sides.

  That ritual battle, short but fierce, became a cultural obsession. From then on, every time the tower was forced to be dyed red, the demons would open the gates of one of its walls and summon what posterity dubbed the Demonic Colosseum.

  A unique event:

  No armies,

  No sieges,

  No stratagems,

  Only warriors.

  Ytreses versus Tabraga.

  Gaea versus the Underworld.

  A wager of honor and power.

  A brutal exchange of strength, will, and legacy, from which very few returned alive… and those who did became legends.

  This time, the Demonic Coliseum was held on the eastern side of the fortress, between the first and second defensive walls. As tradition dictated, the first three hours were dedicated to group combat, between sides of no more than one hundred warriors, fighting until the total annihilation of the opponent, in a spectacle reserved for warriors of intermediate level.

  As always, the battles were brutal, where, with the exception of magic with massive range, everything was permitted. The initiative was always seized upon by the demons, transforming the battlefield into a spectacle of colors as they attempted to overwhelm their opponents with magic of all kinds. The warriors of Ytreses, on the other hand, focused more on the martial aspect of their fighting style, emphasizing agility, strength, and weaponry, and developing flexible counterattack strategies.

  For centuries it has been proven that demons rely far more heavily on magic, mastering it better than the inhabitants of Gaea, resulting in more lethal attacks and more effective defenses. However, they tend to deplete their mana rapidly, leaving them extremely vulnerable if they fail to eliminate their enemies before running out of magic.

  Therefore, the best strategy the warriors of Ytreses could develop to defeat their opponents in death matches is to exploit their agility to dodge every possible attack and counterattack when the demons make a mistake or run out of mana. This tactic remains effective, as out of eight matches, the demons won four and the warriors of Ytreses secured four victories.

  Afterward came the main event, reserved for high-level combatants, where the sides take turns sending their champions to challenge and respond with someone of equal skill. It is in this arena, the true event of the Demonic Coliseum, that legendary warriors are born. Those willing to risk their lives for the honor and glory of defeating the enemy in single combat.

  For the inhabitants of Gaea, those who emerge victorious in this event earn the title of "Demonslayer," as well as receiving collective respect throughout the continent and untold riches in their homeland.