Ptui!
A glob of thick, crimson phlegm hit the dirt.
"Fuck off, you bastards."
Theron glared, his eyes burning with defiance despite the blood coating his teeth. His voice was a ruined rasp, yet it carried not a shred of surrender.
The two figures in white robes didn't flinch. They didn't even look angry. Instead, they looked at Theron, the man the world called the King of Darkness, with a gaze full of sickening pity.
To them, he was merely a brute who couldn't comprehend the majesty of their truth.
The White Robe on the right shook his head, a sigh escaping his lips.
"Quite unfortunate, King of Darkness. I truly harbored hope that you would see the error of your ways."
The cultist raised a hand. The gesture was casual, yet the air suddenly grew heavy, smelling of ozone and sulfur.
"O Gracious Void Lord... You who reign over the deepest layer of the Abyss..."
The chant began as a whisper but echoed like thunder.
"Shine your chaotic light upon this withered world! Your humble followers enact your will! In the name of the Void, I sentence these heretics to extinction!"
BOOM!
The atmosphere didn't just tremble; it shattered.
The sky tore open, bleeding a sick, violent red. Arcs of black lightning danced across the ground, vaporizing rocks and trees instantly.
Around the White Robes, weaker cultists and members of the Voss family didn't even have time to scream.
They collapsed, foam frothing at their mouths, their eyes rolling back as their souls were crushed under the sheer spiritual weight.
Theron, who had been channeling his mana to recover, fell to one knee. He vomited a mouthful of fresh blood.
It felt as though an invisible mountain had been dropped on his shoulders. His organs groaned under the strain.
He forced his head up, his pupils constricting to pinpricks.
"I-Impossible... Are you insane?!" Theron roared against the wind.
"Summoning a Demon God in the material plane? Do you want to kill us all?!"
Then, he saw It.
Through the tear in the red sky, a pair of eyes floated in the infinite darkness.
They were ancient. Indifferent.
They contained all the malice of the cosmos, yet when they looked at Theron, there was no hatred. There was only the playful curiosity of a child about to crush an ant.
'I'm going to die.'
The thought wasn't a guess; it was a certainty. Cold sweat drenched Theron's back. His bones creaked audibly.
His consciousness began to fray at the edges. No mortal mind could withstand the direct gaze of a Void Demon God.
Just as his vision began to fade into black, a thunderous roar shattered the oppressive silence.
"DEMON GOD OF THE VOID! YOU DARE INVADE THIS REALM?!"
The voice came from everywhere and nowhere.
"DO YOU TAKE THE GODS OF ELIAS FOR A JOKE?!"
Golden light erupted in the distance, clashing against the red sky. The pressure on Theron vanished instantly as the Demon God's gaze shifted toward the new threat.
Theron gasped, greedy for air—
Schlick.
His eyes widened. A cold, sharp pain bloomed in his abdomen.
"Ack!"
He coughed, blood spraying his boots. Looking down, he saw the tip of a dagger protruding from his stomach, glistening with his own gore.
Behind him, the White Robe twisted the blade viciously.
"You should have paid more attention to us, not the sky," the cultist whispered into Theron's ear. His voice was calm, mocking.
"The affairs of Gods are not for mortals like us."
Theron's knees gave out. He collapsed, his vision blurring.
"With the Gods distracted by my Lord, your death will go unnoticed. A quiet end for a loud King."
The White Robe pulled the dagger out, wiping it on his sleeve. He turned to leave, satisfied. The strongest obstacle in the Kingdom was dead. Their plan was perfect.
But before a smile could fully form on his face, the air shifted.
A heartbeat. Loud. Rhythmic. Thump-thump.
The White Robe froze.
On the ground, the gaping wound in Theron's stomach began to hiss.
Steam rose from his flesh as muscle fibers wove themselves back together at a visible speed.
The gash on his head sealed. His pale, deathly skin flushed with a vibrant, unnatural rosiness.
Theron blinked.
A moment ago, he was a candle in the wind, flickering out. He had been ready to burn his very soul for one last strike.
But now?
A foreign energy surged through his meridians. It wasn't just healing him; it was evolving him. He didn't just feel okay. He felt infinite.
Theron slowly rose to his feet. The shadow beneath him began to boil.
"Hahaha..." A low chuckle escaped his throat, quickly turning into a manic roar.
"HAHAHA! Amazing! It seems Fate hasn't abandoned me yet!"
The White Robes stepped back, horror dawning on their faces. "What... what are you?"
"House Voss Secret Art..." Theron whispered, his eyes glowing with purple mana.
"...Midnight Domain."
Vwoom.
Sound died. Light died.
Instantly, a ten-kilometer radius was plunged into absolute, suffocating darkness. No sun. No moon. No heat. No cold.
Only Theron.
The energy inside him was wild, untamed, and overwhelming. He realized he had been fighting with shackles on his whole life. Now, the shackles were broken.
He looked at the trembling cultists, their white robes glowing faintly in the abyss he had created.
Theron tilted his head, a savage grin tearing across his face.
"You made a mistake," he said softly, his voice echoing from every direction at once.
"You should have gone for the head."
BOOM!
A colossal hand made of pure, condensed shadow erupted from the ground. It slammed into the knife-wielding cultist with the force of a freight train.
A move so fast, no one could react.
The man didn't even have time to scream. He simply exploded into a mist of blood and regret.
Theron cracked his neck, the sound echoing like a gunshot in the silence.
"Now," he murmured, stepping forward. "Let me show you why they call me the King."