The Monarch of Iron Body was consumed by rage, green flames roared upward as he launched himself forward towards Arthur, his massive form tearing through the ground with explosive force.
Arthur met him head on and the collision was instant.
A shockwave detonated outward as fist met spear, the impact splitting the battlefield open in a jagged line that tore through both armies. High orcs and shadow demons alike were thrown from their feet.
The Monarch pushed forward with a roar, his strength monstrous, relentless, each swing of his arm was enough force to shatter mountains. His fists came down again and again, hammering toward Arthur with overwhelming pressure.
Arthur moved through it, his body blurred, slipping between strikes almost effortlessly. The spear in his hand became an extension of his will, deflecting and redirecting, cutting angles so tight they barely seemed possible, sparks and violet lightning tearing through the air with every attack.
The Monarch snarled, increasing his speed, his power surging higher as frustration took over.
"Stand still!"
Arthur's response was another devistating attack. The spear drove into the Monarch's side, punching clean through the armor with a violent crack. The force behind it twisted his massive body, sending him skidding across the battlefield, tearing a trench through his own army before he caught himself.
He looked down.
The wound was already closing, but his eyes had changed.
Arthur was already in front of him again, a kick slammed into his jaw, snapping his head to the side with a shockwave that rippled through the air. Before his body could recover, Arthur's spear followed, striking again, three times, each hit breaking more of the Monarch's armor with every impact.
He roared, swinging wildly, forcing Arthur back for a second. His body surged with power, armor thickening, green flames burning hotter, his form growing denser, stronger.
"I am the Monarch of Iron Body!" he bellowed, voice shaking the battlefield. "My defense is absolute!"
Arthur tilted his head slightly then vanished.
The Monarch's eyes widened, but it was too late.
Arthur reappeared behind him, spear already moving.
The strike was clean, a single, perfect arc.
Then the Monarch's arm slid free from his body.
Severed cleanly, it spun through the air, massive and armored, green flames flickering as they began to fade.
The Monarch staggered, a sound tearing from his throat, as he clutched at the empty space where his arm had been.
Arthur didn't even look at him, he grabbed the torn limb and threw it to the air.
His gaze followed the limb as it rose higher,
A shadow passed overhead, Kamish and his jaws opened, and snapped shut around the severed arm.
A crunch echoed across the battlefield.
Completely devoured.
Kamish simply continued his path through the sky burning the enemy armies, as if consuming a Monarch's limb was no more significant than swallowing prey.
The Monarch of Iron Body screamed as he felt rage, pain and humiliation at once. It all collapsed into one unrestrained roar as his remaining arm surged with power, his body forcing itself to regenerate, armor reforming, flames exploding outward in violent waves.
"YOU!"
Arthur was already on the move, he stepped into the rage, closing the distance again, his spear cracking against the Monarch's defenses with overwhelming force. The strike shattered more of the armor, breaking it down piece by piece, reducing what had once been an impenetrable defense into splintering fragments.
The Monarch fought back, desperately now, his attacks were heavier, but slower, each swing fueled by fury. He slammed his fist into the ground, sending pillars of stone erupting upward, trying to crush Arthur beneath them.
Arthur cut through them, literally, his spear carved a path forward, slicing through stone, flame, and flesh alike as he drove straight back into close range. A knee drove into the Monarch's midsection, folding his massive body slightly, and then the spear struck again.
And again.
And again.
Each hit landed with precision, targeting the same weakened points, tearing away layer after layer until the Monarch's armor regeneration couldn't keep up, cracks spread then it shattered.
Chunks of it fell away, crashing to the ground. The Monarch staggered back, his breathing ragged now, his body exposed in places it had never been before.
"This… this isn't how it was supposed to be…"
Arthur advanced relentlessly, and the Monarch of iron body swung again, slower this time
Arthur caught it, his free hand closed around the Monarch's wrist, stopping the blow completely. The ground beneath them cracked under the force, but Arthur didn't move an inch.
The Monarch's eyes widened.
Arthur's grip tightened then twisted.
The sound of breaking echoed as the Monarch was forced down to one knee, his strength failing him under the sheer, overwhelming pressure.
Arthur leaned slightly forward, his voice quiet despite the chaos around them.
"You were never the threat."
The Monarch tried to pull free but failed.
Arthur released him, only to drive his spear forward in the same moment.
It pierced straight through his chest.
The impact froze everything.
For a moment, the battlefield and time itself seemed to pause around them.
The Monarch's body trembled, his remaining strength flickering as the green flames around him began to die.
"…No…"
Arthur stepped closer, pushing the spear deeper.
The Monarch's voice broke,
"…I… am… a Monarch…"
Arthur's eyes burned violet through his shadow helmet.
"Not anymore."
He ripped the spear free.
The Monarch's body staggered,
Then Arthur attacked again a final strike, clean and decisive.
The spear carved through what remained of him, splitting his form apart as the last of his of him shattered into nothing. The green flames extinguished completely, his massive body collapsing as the power that once defined him faded.
And just like that, it was over.
Arthur stood at the center of the battlefield, his spear crackling faintly with violet lightning.
Around him, the war had already ended.
Because the moment their Monarch fell,
There was nothing left to fight for. What remained of the Monarch of Iron Body's army had shattered completely. The disciplined ranks from earlier were gone, replaced by scattered groups of fleeing warriors, their confidence broken along with the death of their leader. Some ran without direction, others tried to regroup, shouting commands that dissolved into panic before they could take shape.
Arthur's shadow legion gave them no time to recover.
Igris cut through fleeing captains, his blade flashing once before bodies dropped behind him. Beru tore through clusters of orcs, his laughter sharp and unhinged as he carved a path through their retreat. In the distance, Doom's impact alone crushing entire groups beneath him as if they were nothing more than insects.
Above it all, Kamish circled slowly, his flames blocking the escape of the fleeing army,
Arthur simply observed now. The Monarch of Iron Body's presence erased so completely that it was as if he had never existed at all. There was no triumph in Arthur's expression, no visible satisfaction.
Then his gaze lifted, past the smoke and past the sky of the chaos world.
Arthur's eyes narrowed slightly as he thought of the Dimensional Crack, he didn't need proof, he knew they were there. Watching all of this.
His grip on the spear tightened, and without hesitation, he spoke, his voice carrying across the battlefield.
"I know you're watching."
"In that crack you're hiding in… watching from a distance while your bait fight your battles. If you've seen enough, then come down here and face me.."
The shadows around him extended.
"Let's end this properly."
He didn't break eye contact with the sky, his voice lowering just enough.
"The successor of Tarnak is dead."
"And the rest of you won't last much longer once I come knocking."
There was no response, but Arthur didn't need it.
He had already said what needed to be said.
After a moment, the tension eased from his stance, because he had confirmed something important.
They were still preparing and if they were left alone, they would use that time to grow stronger, to gather more forces.
Arthur exhaled quietly, he couldn't allow that.
Behind him, the battlefield continued to collapse into its final stage. The last of the Iron Body's forces were being hunted down, their retreat turning into a desperate scramble for survival.
Arthur lowered his gaze and began to walk, shadows weaving through the battlefield without ever crossing his path. Orcs ran past him, chased down by his soldiers, cut down before they could get far.
One of them stumbled directly into his path.
A high orc, larger than the rest, his armor cracked, he looked up, and froze the moment he saw Arthur.
His breathing became shallow, uneven. His grip on his blade loosened until it slipped from his hand entirely, hitting the ground.
Arthur didn't even slow down, he kept walking. The orc's body trembled violently as whatever remained of his resolve collapsed under Arthur's presence. There was no fight left in him, no instinct to attack or defend, only absolute suffocating fear.
And in a sudden, desperate move, he picked up his blade and drove it into his own chest.
He dropped instantly.
Arthur passed him without a glance.
A moment later, a figure descended beside him.
Ultra landed smoothly, matching Arthur's pace as if he had always been there, his glowing eyes briefly scanning the battlefield.
"My king," he said, his voice composed. "What are your orders?"
Arthur didn't look at him. His gaze remained fixed ahead,
"Wipe out what's left, they'll be added to our numbers." he said calmly.
There was no need for elaboration.
Ultra inclined his head slightly.
"And after that?"
Arthur's answer came just as simply.
"Set up camp, there is still work to do here."
Ultra gave a small nod, already turning to carry out the command.
/-\
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