When a Filipino got Isekai'd with a twist!
Volume 2 " only I can summon those!"
Chapter 23 — "the Ashes of the world! The war begins!"
The sky over the capital turned an eerie shade of gray, the sun choked by dark clouds that weren't there moments ago. Below, fire and screams painted the plaza.
And above, on the broken balcony of the Imperial Palace, two figures stood still—until one of them moved.
Frank Abigneil.
His lips curled in a sly grin, eyes glinting with a cruel kind of joy.
"Let's see if the old hound still has his teeth."
He dashed forward—not with noise, but with silence so sharp it felt like a blade. Yingston barely brought his sword up in time to parry. The impact sent a tremor up his arm, bones groaning against the pressure.
Fast. Too fast. Stronger than anyone I've fought in decades.
Yingston skidded back, boots carving lines into the cracked marble. But he didn't fall.
"You're not the first monster I've fought," he said coldly.
Frank tilted his head, amused. "But I might be the last."
They clashed again.
Frank fought like chaos incarnate. His blade wasn't bound by form—it danced with cruel creativity, unpredictable, slipping past parries and turning counters into traps. Every move was designed to kill not just the body, but the will.
Yingston's breathing grew heavier. His coat was tattered, blood soaked into his sleeve. But his eyes were focused. Calm.
He blocked a blow meant for his heart, then twisted, letting Frank's momentum carry him. His elbow slammed into Frank's ribs. The younger man staggered—but only for a second.
"You're clever," Frank hissed, wiping blood from his lip. "Too clever to be this slow."
"I'm not here to impress you," Yingston muttered, shifting into a stance older than the kingdom itself.
And for a few shining moments, he held his ground. Years of battle experience let him read the smallest gestures, the tiniest tells. He anticipated Frank's moves, not because he was faster, but because he'd seen them a hundred times before.
Then—Frank smiled wider. His body pulsed with dark energy.
"Oh," he said, voice giddy, "let's make this more fun, shall we?"
He raised his hand.
The air rippled—and the sky split open.
Dark portals burst above the capital, and out of them poured nightmares.
A swarm of chimera—twisted, grotesque beasts, some with the wings of birds, others with scales, horns, or too many eyes—descended on the city like a plague.
And then came the real monsters.
A man in a long coat, knives glinting at his side, eyes wild with hunger.
A hulking brute dragging a cleaver the size of a door, his face covered in stitched flesh.
And a third, wearing a blood-stained lab coat, his grin wide with surgical curiosity.
Jack the Ripper. Ted the Butcher. Josef Mengele.
Yingston froze as the city below erupted in fresh screams.
"What did you do?!" he roared, his eyes filled with fury and disbelief.
Frank stepped back, arms open like a showman basking in applause.
"Me? Oh, nothing much..." he said lightly. "Just made things more... interesting."
POV Shift – The Demon Army's March Begins
In the depths of the Abyssal Realm, where flame met void and screams were prayers, the Demon Lord sat unmoving. His face was unseen—his form barely more than a silhouette of smoke and fire—but his presence weighed like gravity on the world.
He raised his hand.
And spoke a single word.
"Begin."
Reality cracked.
Across the continents, massive black rifts tore open the sky and the land. Red lightning danced through the wounds in the world. Trillions of demon beasts, aberrations, and cursed monstrosities poured through—each step a drumbeat of the apocalypse.
But no orders came from the kings or queens of the allied nations.
Because they were all trapped.
Still inside the capital of the Human Empire—caught in the Chameleon's perfect snare.
They had gathered for the execution of a hero.
And now, they were powerless to stop what came next.
---
Meanwhile – At the Borderlands of the Dragon Kingdom
Wings of flame and shadow emerged from the rift, followed by the twisted forms of infernal dragons. They shrieked as they spiraled downward, melting mountaintops with each breath.
At the head of the invasion walked Azazel, Demon King of Cruelty, dragging a cleaver-shaped blade behind him, its edge still dripping from a previous massacre.
---
Beastmen Territories – Southern Wilds
Jaws snapped. Trees fell. The Demon King of Carnage, Astaroth, led the charge. His muscular frame pulsed with chaotic energy. Gigantic beasts followed behind, all fused and deformed by blood magic.
There were no orders to resist.
The kingdoms had been silenced.
---
Elven Lands – Verdant Forests
Chains slithered across the forest floor like vipers, binding ancient trees in their grip. Mephistopheles, Demon King of Incarceration, stepped into the sunlight, eyes void of emotion, voice barely a whisper.
"There is no freedom. Only obedience."
His army walked in step, faceless and bound by spell-forged shackles.
---
Oseidon's Deep Trench
Dark waters boiled as Aamon, Demon King of Fury, rose from the abyss, trident raised. He screamed, and whirlpools tore the sea asunder, dragging coral cities into watery graves.
No orders. No defense. Only the first wave of destruction.
---
But the Goddess Had Prepared
High above, in her astral sanctuary, Goddess Lycana, Patron of Moon and Fate, watched it all. Her silver eyes shimmered.
"I saw this coming," she whispered. "And I made sure they wouldn't be alone."
Below her hand, a great map of the world shimmered with hundreds of glowing stars—each one a soul she had summoned. Warriors long forgotten. Heroes discarded by history. Soldiers once left behind.
The Forgotten Champions.
Among them, a bandit reborn.
---
Eastern Wastes – Kalilsto's Charge
On a rising cliff, a rugged man in mismatched armor raised his blade.
"Men! Mercs! Brothers!" he roared, his voice like thunder. "We fight not for gold! Not for glory!"
He pointed ahead where a black sea of demons crawled over the land like ants.
"We fight… for Sir Kieth!"
Behind him thundered The Rock—a mountain-sized, boulder-skinned beast with glowing emerald eyes. The same monster Kieth once tamed. Now armored in runed plates, it carried siege towers on its back.
Kalilsto grinned wide.
"FOR SIR KIETH! CHARGE!"
He plunged his sword forward.
The Rock let out a deep, earth-shaking bellow and stomped into the front lines, crushing dozens of demons with every step.
Around Kalilsto, hundreds of mercenaries, retired knights, and old mages followed—those who once gave up on the world… now giving it one last chance.
---
As demons flooded the kingdoms, they met resistance they hadn't expected.
From ghosts of the past.
From warriors the world forgot.
And in the burning capital, as Yingston's battle with Frank raged on, none of them knew yet—
That the true war had only just begun.
The wind howled across the broken rooftop as Yingston knelt, battered and bloodied, struggling to rise. Frank Abigneil stood before him, unscathed, an amused smirk carved across his face. The orb in his left hand pulsed with malevolent light—Norcten's core, the key to his control over the allied kings and queens.
"You lasted longer than I expected," Frank mused, his voice dripping with mockery. "But this is where your little resistance ends."
He raised his blade.
Yingston spat blood and narrowed his eyes. "Do it, then. Let's see if you're man enough—"
A flash of silver interrupted his sentence.
A blur dashed across the battlefield, kicking up dust and shattered stone. Elara, Chief Knight of the Elven Vanguard, stormed in with her greatsword drawn, expression steeled with unwavering focus.
"RAAAAH!"
She swung straight for Frank's neck with everything she had.
Frank's eyes widened only slightly, and with ease, he leaned back, letting the blade pass inches from his throat. "Hehehe... Sorry—who're you attacking there?"
But Elara only smiled.
"I wasn't aiming at you."
Frank's smile faltered. In that instant, he looked down—
—and saw the orb in his hand split in two.
"No—!"
A pulse of wild energy surged out from the shattered core, cracking the sky for a heartbeat. The oppressive aura that had controlled the rulers across the plaza began to fray and flicker.
---
Elsewhere — Inside the Capital Plaza
Josh, Serena, and Lyra's Side
The plaza was a warzone.
Mind-controlled kings and queens stood like titans, their auras blazing. Behind them, a storm of chimera beasts poured from summoning circles. Claws, horns, wings—monsters stitched together from hundreds of creatures, snarling as they tore through walls and soldiers alike.
But the real horror?
The reinforcements that had arrived.
Jack the Ripper danced between bodies, his curved blades singing through the air, each movement a grisly ballet.
Ted the Butcher swung a meat cleaver longer than a grown man, laughing hysterically as he cleaved through defensive formations like paper.
And behind them, Josef Mengele, the mad scientist reborn, stood on a balcony, adjusting his bloody gloves with calm detachment.
"Release Subject Delta," he whispered to a nervous cultist beside him.
A monstrous hybrid twice the size of an ogre—half-spider, half-dragon, with screaming human faces embedded in its scales—charged into the field, crushing soldiers underfoot.
Josh stood beside Lyra and Serena, both bloodied but still upright.
"We're not gonna survive this if we hold back," Serena muttered, loading another arrow.
Lyra's hands trembled, her eyes flicking between the kings under mind control and the incoming wave of death.
Josh clenched his fists, flames flickering at his knuckles. "Then we don't hold back. We hold the line."
They braced as the monstrous army surged.
But none of them realized yet—
That somewhere above them, the Chameleon was watching.
And even with the orb shattered, his game was far from over.
Meanwhile Serena's pov
Serena's bowstring quivered.
"It's good that I bring my bow!"
A deep breath. Pull. Release.
The arrow zipped through the smoke, piercing the throat of a charging chimera—a grotesque lion-bird hybrid with scorpion legs. It crumpled mid-leap, but two more took its place.
"Keep the formation tight!" she shouted, her voice sharp, commanding.
Her squad—what was left of the Royal Sentinels—rallied behind her. Shields up. Spears braced. Mages barely standing, sweat dripping from their brows as they conjured barriers against the swarm.
Across the plaza, everything was chaos. Explosions bloomed in all directions, fire and lightning tearing through the streets, but the monsters just kept coming.
Behind them, the mind-controlled rulers still stood motionless—but now they twitched, some of them swaying, confused. Whatever Elara did, it was working.
But not fast enough.
"Serena! Left flank!" someone yelled.
She turned just in time to see a group of winged chimeras dive-bombing from above. She rolled aside, nocking three arrows at once—thwip-thwip-thwip!—each one enchanted with fire.
They burst into flame in midair, their wings shredding, bodies crashing into the ground.
She was breathing hard now. Her fingers were raw, one eye swelling shut from a earlier blow. Still, she kept firing.
Then she saw Josef Mengele in the distance. Standing calmly like a conductor, directing the monsters with hand gestures, as if enjoying a private concert.
Her blood ran cold.
"He's controlling their behavior… Like pieces on a chessboard."
She tried to aim—but the moment she raised her bow, her danger sense screamed.
A shadow lunged out of the ground—Jack the Ripper.
"Serena, MOVE!" someone screamed.
She barely spun aside as Jack's curved blade slashed past her shoulder, cutting clean through her quiver strap. Arrows spilled across the ground.
Jack licked his lips, tilting his head. "You smell delightful."
Serena kicked backward, creating distance, and reached for her dagger. Her heart pounded—not just from fear, but from fury.
She'd trained her whole life to protect this kingdom.
She wasn't going to die to some serial killer's fantasy.
"Come on then," she said coldly. "Let's see if your blades are faster than mine."
Jack grinned—and vanished in a blink.
She blocked the first strike by pure instinct. Sparks flew.
But this wasn't a duel.
This was survival.
Thunder cracked above the blood-soaked plaza.
The battle had reached a fever pitch—Jack the Ripper slashing through waves of warriors, Ted the Butcher laughing as he sent bodies flying, and Josef Mengele's chimeras crawling over buildings, devouring anything in sight. Even with the six rulers freed from mind control, the trio of anti-heroes was holding their own—no, more than that. They were dominating.
Until—
"AAAAARGHHH!!"
A deafening war cry split the sky.
From the southern gate, the earth trembled. Trees snapped. Dust spiraled. Then emerged a wave of riders—mercenaries, warriors in mismatched armor, howling and chanting. And at the front, riding a towering stone-covered beast, stood Kalilsto, the former bandit leader turned battle-hardened war chief.
"For Sir Kieth! Charge!!" he roared, sword raised high.
His mount—The Rock, the giant stone monster tamed by Kieth—let out a deep rumble and slammed its fists into the ground. Shockwaves rippled, sending dozens of chimeras flying.
Kalilsto's army crashed into the battlefield like a tidal wave. Spears impaled monsters. Fireballs and arrows lit the sky. They had come armed with conviction and vengeance—forgotten champions, old veterans, and retired generals who'd once fought for their nations, now returning for one final war.
Josh and Chris watched in awe as Kalilsto's forces cut through the chaos like a divine answer to their prayers.
Vismond laughed, for the first time in hours. "Reinforcements! Finally, damn it!"
Jack the Ripper's grin faded slightly as he realized they were surrounded. Josef narrowed his eyes, glancing at Ted. Even their cold confidence began to crack.
"Tch. Annoying," Ted grunted, tightening his grip on the cleaver.
"Let's pull back," Josef said quickly. "We've done enough."
The three anti-heroes turned to escape.
But Jack paused. He glanced over his shoulder one last time. His eyes gleamed with something darker than madness—certainty.
"Oh, don't cheer too early," he said in a soft, almost casual tone.
The battlefield fell quiet, if only for a moment.
"...You think this was everything?" he asked, tilting his head.
Kalilsto frowned from atop The Rock. "What the hell is he talking about?"
Jack's grin returned. Wide. Terrifying.
"This? This wasn't the war."
"This was the distraction."
Everyone froze.
"The real war has already started," Jack said. "While you were busy saving your precious kings and queens… your kingdoms were burning."
A cold wind passed.
"What do you mean?" Queen Jessabel demanded, stepping forward.
Jack just chuckled.
"There's no home to go back to."
He opened his arms wide, laughing as he faded into shadow with Ted and Josef.
"All of your kingdoms… are gone."
Silence. Then—
"No… no way," Vismond whispered, eyes wide.
"Liar!" Cane shouted, voice cracking. "You're bluffing!"
But then the sky above them darkened, and distant roars echoed from the horizon. The clouds shifted like writhing beasts.
From all directions—North, South, East, and West—smoke rose.
Fires.
Explosions.
Lightning and magic storms beyond the capital.
Elara knelt beside Yingston, who was badly wounded but alive. She whispered, "It's true… isn't it?"
He nodded grimly. "It was a trap. The kings and queens were bait. They gathered everyone here… and left the rest of the world defenseless."
Suddenly, magical screens flickered above the plaza—emergency relays from far-off places. Each one showed a different scene.
—The Beast Kingdom, overrun with black-scaled beasts.
—The Dragon Kingdom, cities reduced to burning ruins.
—The Elven forests, corrupted with demonic fog.
—The Dwarven tunnels, collapsing under siege.
—The Ocean Kingdom, its waves boiling as sea chimeras rose from the depths.
Every screen shared one common image:
A colossal, marching horde. Trillions of beasts. Demons of all shapes and forms.
And leading them… each one led by one of the Four Demon Kings:
—Azazel, the Demon King of Cruelty, laughing atop a tower of corpses.
—Aamon, the Demon King of Fury, charging through cities on a flaming steed.
—Mephistopheles, the Demon King of Incarceration, dragging souls in chains.
—Astaroth, the Demon King of Carnage, wading through blood and screaming for more.
Only one kingdom remained standing.
The Human Empire.
And even it was crumbling.
Josh clenched his fists. "We're the last wall."
King Eldrin raised his sword. "Then we make our stand here."
Kalilsto bared his teeth. "For Kieth… and for what's left."
The war for the world had truly begun.
To be continued...