The void beyond the heavens stirred.
A bridge of gold stretched through endless dark, connecting seven thrones forged from different truths of reality. Each throne pulsed once, slow and heavy, as if remembering what it was meant to hold.
Raiku stood in the center.
Hands behind his back. Eyes closed.
Light bent toward him, not in worship but in correction.
Then the thrones awakened.
A shimmer of distorted time appeared first.
Larthax, Emperor of Continuum.
He stepped through the fold. His body flickered in hundreds of layers, every version of himself watching the others exist at once.
Larthax: The threads are steady again, Soul Emperor.
Silence followed, absolute and deep.
Luther, Emperor of Silence, materialized next. His form was half-shadow, half-vacuum. Sound died wherever he stood.
Luther: The worlds hold their breath.
Then came light.
Gold fire bloomed across the bridge.
Enra, Emperor of Pride, appeared, tall, broad, shoulders draped in radiant cloth that shimmered like noon sunlight. His hair glowed faintly, every strand burning gold. The air itself bowed when he breathed.
He smiled, calm and unbothered.
Enra: Hmph. I felt the call from leagues away. Imagine that — the heavens needing my presence again.
Iybel, Emperor of Ruin, rose next. His robes were torn, leaking black dust that re-formed with every step. His voice was rough, carved from stone.
Iybel: Even the proud come when Raiku calls.
Enra turned, golden eyes narrow but amused.
Enra: "Proud?" No. Pride does not come when summoned. Pride allows others to be in its presence.
Larthax sighed quietly.
Larthax: And so it begins again.
Enra smirked at him.
Enra: You bend time because you fear the present, Continuum. You should thank me for giving this meeting light.
Luther's voice cut through the tension, barely audible but sharp.
Luther: Light blinds as easily as it guides.
Enra: Then keep your eyes closed, Silence.
Iybel leaned forward slightly.
Iybel: Arrogance that bright burns out first.
Enra looked at him without flinching.
Enra: Arrogance is calling it arrogance when it's simply truth. The sun doesn't boast for shining.
He raised one hand. A flare burst from his palm, gold radiance flooding across the bridge. The heat alone cracked pieces of Luther's throne before it repaired itself instantly.
Larthax waved his hand once. Time froze for a heartbeat.
Larthax: Enough. You'll scorch the council again.
Enra chuckled under his breath, lowering his arm.
Enra: My flames purify. If your thrones can't endure sunlight, perhaps they shouldn't exist.
Raiku opened his eyes.
Every ripple vanished.
His voice came, even and calm.
Raiku: The Seventh has awakened. His Empire bleeds.
The light around him pulsed in harmony.
Raiku: The Devourer returns. Balance shifts.
Larthax: The mortal Emperor?
Luther: The shadowed one.
Iybel: If he fails, worlds crumble again.
Enra crossed his arms, that calm half-smile never leaving.
Enra: If he cannot protect his realm, he is unworthy of the title Emperor. Strength defines rule, not pity.
Larthax: Not all strength burns.
Enra: All strength must burn. Otherwise it's just waiting to fade.
Raiku turned toward him.
Raiku: Do you believe your flame eternal?
Enra: Until something greater chooses to prove me wrong.
The silence stretched.
Raiku's gaze softened, just slightly.
Raiku: Then let that belief keep the heavens lit.
Iybel: What is your order, Soul Emperor?
Raiku: Watch. Learn. Intervene only if the balance fractures beyond repair.
Raiku looked to Enra last.
Raiku: And you.
Enra: Hm?
Raiku: Do not let your pride blind you when the dark rises again.
Enra smiled, faint and composed.
Enra: The dark doesn't rise. It flees the sun.
Raiku said nothing.
The thrones began to dim.
Larthax bowed, fading into fractured time.
Luther dissolved into silence.
Iybel melted into shadow.
Enra lingered, standing in the warm gold that still lingered from his own light.
He looked up toward where Raiku had stood.
Enra: You speak of balance... but without pride, who reminds the world what light is?
His aura flared once more, brilliant, absolute, alive.
Then he was gone.
The bridge returned to darkness.
Only the echo of sunlight remained.
The void stirred.
Then, light came. Not warmth — judgment.
A golden blaze tore across the heavens, splitting through the silence like a blade made of arrogance itself. From it descended a figure clothed in living sunlight, shoulders broad, eyes bright, expression calm yet absolute.
Every inch of his being screamed certainty.
He walked through the sky. Each step shaped the air beneath him into molten gold.
When his feet touched the ruined stone of the Dark Empire, the ground hummed like it remembered what divinity felt like.
He looked around — shattered towers, smoke curling through the air, soldiers kneeling, the scent of war still heavy.
Enra: Hm. So this is the Empire of the Seventh.
He smiled faintly.
Enra: I expected something greater.
Dark stepped from the shadows of the broken hall, cloak torn and body still marked from the battle with Sukojo. His eyes were steady, cold, evaluating the radiant stranger.
Dark: Who are you supposed to be?
Enra's gaze drifted lazily toward him, as if the question was beneath notice.
Enra: The one whose presence demands no introduction.
Dark frowned.
Dark: You're awfully full of yourself for someone I've never heard of.
Enra: That's because the sun doesn't need to announce itself, Emperor. It simply rises.
Dark: Then maybe you should set.
Enra chuckled softly, his voice smooth, almost elegant.
Enra: Set? No. I allow the world its night out of mercy.
He turned slightly, hands behind his back, looking toward the horizon where the sky still bled red from ruin.
Enra: Tell me, do you call this victory?
Dark: I call it survival.
Enra: Hm. Such a modest word for someone standing at the edge of godhood.
Dark: You talk like you know what that means.
Enra: I define what it means.
He took a slow step forward. The heat rolled with him. Shadows bent away.
Enra: When I burn, the worlds align. When I sleep, they pray for dawn. And yet—here you are, bleeding, broken, claiming to be hope.
Dark's eyes narrowed.
Dark: You want to test that?
Enra smiled.
Enra: Oh, no, Emperor. The sun does not compete with candles.
The silence cracked. The soldiers watching from afar whispered among themselves, unsure if they were witnessing reverence or disrespect.
Dark's aura darkened, shadows crawling across the stone, swallowing the light near him.
Dark: Keep talking like that, and you'll find out how quickly the dark consumes the sun.
Enra: The dark consumes nothing. It only hides what's too bright to face.
He turned, the gold in his eyes deepening, voice rising slightly — not in anger, but in pure conviction.
Enra: The sun is not challenged. The sun is endured.
Dark said nothing. His fingers twitched, aura humming at the edges.
Enra studied him quietly.
Enra: Hm. That look in your eyes... pride masquerading as humility. You fight for others, yet you crave the recognition of standing alone.
Dark: You read people like you're above them.
Enra: I am.
Dark: You sure talk like a god.
Enra smiled wider.
Enra: No. Gods fade when people stop believing. I burn whether they worship or not.
He took another step closer, light brushing against Dark's face.
Enra: But don't mistake this for contempt. I see something in you — something stubborn enough to challenge the inevitable.
Dark: You came here to judge me?
Enra: I came to see if the stories were true.
He paused, eyes glinting brighter.
Enra: They said the Seventh Emperor fights without fear. But now I see it clearly. You do fear something.
Dark: What's that?
Enra leaned forward, voice low.
Enra: Being forgotten.
Dark didn't answer. The two stood in silence — darkness and sunlight bleeding into each other, neither overpowering the other completely.
Then Enra stepped back.
Enra: You're not ready to stand among us yet. But you will. Whether you rise... or burn.
He turned away, his body glowing brighter until the heat was unbearable.
Dark raised an arm to shield his eyes.
The sunlight flared one last time, swallowing the cracks and ruin, sealing the ground like gold hardening into perfection.
Before vanishing, Enra's voice lingered in the wind.
Enra: Remember this, Emperor. The difference between us is simple — you fight to be strong. I exist as strength itself.
Then the light disappeared.
The sky dimmed.
And Dark stood there, jaw tight, the echo of the sun still burning in the air.
The heat lingered.
Stone cracked under his boots as the light finally faded from the air. The wind moved again, soft and uneven, carrying the faint smell of smoke through the ruins.
Dark: ...Arrogant bastard.
He looked up at the sky where the last fragments of gold still shimmered, faint but defiant. The sunlight refused to die even after its master was gone.
Leona walked up beside him, holding her staff for balance. Her hair clung to her face with ash and sweat.
Leona: Who was that?
Dark: No idea.
Tier limped closer, armor flickering as sparks jumped across the broken plates.
Tier: Whoever he was, he's lucky you didn't fight back.
Dark didn't answer. He was still staring at the faint horizon glow.
Dark: I don't think he needed luck.
Gilmuar cracked his neck, still coughing from the dust.
Gilmuar: You saying that guy was stronger than Sukojo?
Dark: Stronger than everything I've fought so far.
The silence that followed said enough.
Cron stepped from behind the fallen gate, his aura dimmed but steady.
Cron: That wasn't an enemy.
Dark turned slightly.
Cron: His energy... it wasn't hostile. Just proud. Like he didn't see us as worth hating.
Dark: He didn't see me at all.
Cron: Maybe that's worse.
Dark's jaw tightened again. He finally lowered his eyes, staring at his own reflection in the broken metal near his feet.
Dark: He looked at me like I was still learning how to crawl.
Leona: So what if he did? You've beaten gods. You've rebuilt this empire from nothing.
Dark: Then why does it still feel like I'm standing in someone else's shadow?
No one answered. The wind filled the gap.
Above them, the clouds slowly began to reform, blocking the last of the sunlight. The world dimmed again, returning to the familiar gray that belonged to Dark's realm.
But the warmth refused to fade.
Even the shadows carried a faint golden hue, as if the memory of Enra refused to die.
Tier crouched, picking up a piece of scorched stone. The surface shimmered, glowing faintly with embedded light.
Tier: This doesn't make sense. His presence altered reality itself. The structure of energy here—it's rewritten.
Cron: Pride given form.
Gilmuar smirked faintly.
Gilmuar: Pride, huh? He's lucky he didn't stick around. I'd knock that pride out of him real quick.
Leona: You wouldn't have lasted a second.
Gilmuar: And you would?
Leona: No. But I wouldn't have talked big either.
Dark half-smiled for a moment, just barely.
Dark: Enough. We rebuild tomorrow.
He turned away, cloak dragging against the ground.
Cron: What about him?
Dark paused.
Cron pointed toward the horizon where the light had vanished completely.
Cron: That sun bastard. If he comes back.
Dark: He will.
He looked up one last time.
Dark: And when he does, I'll be ready.
He started walking toward the ruined castle.
Behind him, the others watched silently as the last glimmer of light faded from the sky.
High above, unseen beyond the clouds, a golden shape lingered for a moment before turning away — a silhouette wrapped in radiance, smiling faintly to himself.
Enra: (quietly) He's got spirit, a soul, reminds me of my old self.
The sun flared once more in the distance.
To be continued.
End of chapter 11.