The Sacred Kings of the Vorometallicae Race were beings whose very existence inspired dread across galaxies. Entire civilizations had fallen in terror at the mere mention of their names. Stars had collapsed beneath their claws, and worlds had burned in their shadows. Yet now, within the heart of their own home plane, it was they who felt horror blooming in their ancient hearts. The emotion was unfamiliar, almost foreign, yet unmistakably real.
Apophis continued to scream—raw, unrestrained agony—as his internal organs, essence, and soul were devoured by the Nightmare Universe writhing within his chest cavity. His regeneration failed to activate, his power refused to obey.
For the first time since their creation, the Sacred Kings felt the crushing weight of helplessness. Their own lives no longer seemed to belong to them. The battlefield itself trembled at the sight, as the universe made clear that not even apex predators remained invincible forever.
