Out there, in the real universes, strength didn't get you respect. It got you permission to exist. Power dictated your survival, your name, your future, your fucking right to breathe.
The real worlds—the endless planes of predators and gods and monsters that didn't blink before they devoured—that was where power mattered. Where even thoughts could kill. And Parker? He was heading there soon. So before these kids got dragged into the deep end, they'd better learn how to swim.
With blood in the water.
Parker had already tasted that truth. No, in some worlds, he had forged that truth.
Now it was their turn.
He stood slowly, eyes burning like stars trapped behind glass, and his voice, smooth and unhurried, slid across the throne hall like a blade dipped in velvet.
"Everyone take a seat."
The command wasn't loud.
It didn't need to be.
And as the pressure shifted, as his throne pulsed once with quiet finality, he added:
