Caelum roared, his flames erupting into a maelstrom of devastation, the sheer heat warping the very air itself. Ice surged alongside the fire, an impossible contradiction that froze and burned reality in the same breath.
Dark stood in the center of the destruction—unmoving, untouched.
Caelum: YOU'RE NOT STRONGER THAN ME!
Dark: You sure?
Caelum lunged, his entire body blazing with his ultimate power. His fist, engulfed in flames hotter than the core of a collapsing star, shot toward Dark's chest like an execution.
Dark didn't move.
Didn't blink.
Didn't even acknowledge the attack.
And then—
He caught it.
A single hand, wrapped in shadows darker than the abyss itself, stopped Caelum's full-powered strike like it was nothing.
The shockwave from the impact shattered the entire arena. The ground beneath them splintered apart, stone and marble disintegrating into dust.
But Dark didn't budge an inch.
Caelum's eyes widened—panic flashed across his face for the first time.
Dark: That all?
Caelum gritted his teeth, twisting his body, launching an earth-splitting roundhouse kick—only for Dark to catch his leg mid-motion and slam him straight into the ground.
The impact was catastrophic. The sheer force sent cracks racing across the battlefield, the ground caving in under the pressure.
Dark didn't let go.
With an almost casual indifference, he lifted Caelum up again—only to slam him down even harder.
Then again.
And again.
Each time, the impact ripped through the arena like an earthquake, the very sky trembling under the force.
Caelum was helpless.
Dark tossed him aside like he was nothing, sending him skidding across the ruined battlefield, his once-unstoppable power now barely holding together.
Caelum coughed, spitting blood onto the broken stone. His body ached, his vision blurred—but worse than that, he understood.
He had lost.
Completely.
Dark walked toward him, shadows coiling around his frame, his crimson eyes burning with finality.
Dark: Still think I'm not stronger than you?
Caelum didn't answer immediately. He just sat there, staring at the ground.
For the first time in his existence, he had nothing to say.
No defiance.
No excuses.
No anger.
Only acceptance.
Slowly, he raised his head, locking eyes with the man who had just utterly broken him.
Caelum: Tch... You really are something else.
Dark stopped a few feet away, waiting.
Caelum exhaled sharply, then lowered his head slightly—
Not as a desperate plea.
Not out of humiliation.
But in acknowledgment.
Caelum: You win.
Dark remained silent.
Caelum: I fought to conquer... to prove my strength. But you? You fight for something bigger.
He looked up again, his usual arrogance replaced with something else—
Something genuine.
Caelum: If this is how it is... then fine. I'll follow you.
Dark raised an eyebrow.
Dark: Just like that?
Caelum laughed bitterly, wiping the blood from his lips.
Caelum: What else is there? I lost. But more than that... I see it now.
He clenched his fists, not in anger, but in realization.
Caelum: You're not just another ruler. You're something beyond that. A future Emperor.
His eyes hardened with conviction.
Caelum: And if that's the case... then I'll be beside you when it happens. Ready for your command.
Dark studied him for a moment before nodding.
Dark: Good.
The shadows surged around them, swallowing the battlefield. Dark's eyes glowed.
Dark: Now become one of my shadows, Caelum. From now on your name shall be Clum.
Caelum was his.
Clum: Yes my Emperor, my name is now Clum, whatever suits you.
The moment Caelum—no, Clum—spoke those words, the shadows surged violently, spiraling around him in a vortex of raw power. The arena itself trembled as Dark's influence took root, binding Clum to his will.
A deep, guttural sound rumbled through the air—a silent command only Clum could hear.
His body tensed as the shadows crawled over him, sinking into his very core, rewriting his existence. His flames—once untamed and destructive—dimmed, shifting into something even more refined, more controlled.
Clum shuddered, gripping his chest as the process completed. His body pulsed with newfound strength, a power that no longer belonged solely to him—but to something far greater.
Dark watched, arms crossed, his crimson gaze unwavering.
Dark: Feels different, doesn't it?
Clum inhaled deeply, flexing his fingers as his flames flickered—no longer wild, but now intertwined with shadow itself. His blue fire had turned a deeper shade, laced with streaks of abyssal black. His ice, once pure white, now carried a dark tint, colder than the void itself.
Clum: It's... more.
He clenched his fist, and the air cracked around him. He could feel it—Dark's presence laced into his very being. This was no simple subjugation. It was evolution.
Clum: I see now...
Dark's expression remained unreadable.
Dark: What do you see?
Clum smirked, but this time, it wasn't his usual cocky grin. There was something different—a newfound understanding.
Clum: You don't just take.
He looked down at his own hands, flames dancing along his fingertips.
Clum: You elevate.
Dark said nothing. He didn't need to.
The meaning was clear.
Igor was the first. The first to bow without hesitation.
Malik and Raz followed soon after, understanding what it meant to stand beside Dark.
And now Clum. A conqueror, once proud and untamed, now reforged with purpose.
Not one of them had been forced.
Not one of them had broken under power.
They had accepted.
Pure, undeniable loyalty.
Clum exhaled sharply, rolling his shoulders, adjusting to his transformed power. Then, without hesitation—he dropped to one knee, head bowed.
Clum: From this moment on, I am yours.
Dark observed him, his gaze sharp and unreadable.
Dark: Then stand.
Clum obeyed, rising to his feet, his posture now different—not as a conqueror, but as a warrior ready to serve.
Dark turned away, shadows already coiling around him, ready to depart.
Dark: Come. We have work to do.
Clum nodded once, stepping forward without hesitation, his old self now gone.
The Conqueror of Worlds had become apart of Dark's shadows.
Dark: Return.
A low hum resonated through the arena as Clum's form distorted, his body dissolving into a cascade of swirling shadows. The dark mass coiled and spiraled toward Dark's outstretched hand, sucked into the abyss within his palm—the Summoning Veil.
This was no ordinary summoning magic. The Summoning Veil was an abyss of absolute command, an extension of Dark's will where those who swore loyalty to him resided—not as mere subordinates, but as bound forces of his ever-growing dominion. Clum's essence melded seamlessly into the void, his presence now eternally tethered to Dark's call.
With a subtle flick of his wrist, Dark tucked his hands into his pockets, his gaze shifting toward the crowd. His eyes gleamed with an eerie glow, cutting through the dim atmosphere like twin embers. Murmurs and hushed whispers rippled through the audience, the weight of what they had just witnessed settling heavily upon them.
Then, Dark's gaze lifted.
High above, seated on an opulent throne carved into the very architecture of the coliseum, was King Velzarian.
The King's View
From his elevated position, Velzarian overlooked the entire arena like a god surveying his dominion. The grandstands stretched endlessly beneath him, filled with nobles, warriors, and spectators—yet their presence was insignificant compared to the weight of his own.
His throne, embedded within the uppermost balcony of the colossal structure, was forged from obsidian and adorned with intricate gold carvings that radiated an aura of regality. Twin banners of deep crimson hung on either side, each embroidered with the sigil of his lineage—a roaring dragon entwined with a spear of silver flame.
Velzarian himself was an imposing figure. Draped in dark imperial robes lined with fur from a beast long extinct, his form exuded both nobility and unspoken menace. A silver crown rested atop his sleek, raven-black hair, framing a face that bore the hardened expression of a ruler who had seen centuries of war and conquest.
Yet, it was his eyes that spoke the loudest.
A deep, calculating gaze—cold as the tundras of the north, yet burning with the weight of command. His presence alone was suffocating, the very air bending to the sheer magnitude of his aura.
That aura did more than exude dominance.
It was an invisible fortress—a barrier of absolute authority. A force that separated the weak from the strong, ensuring no one from within could escape and no one from the outside could interfere. It was a protection and a warning, a silent declaration of control over this battlefield.
And then—Dark was there.
In the blink of an eye, he appeared atop the viewing balcony's edge, balanced effortlessly on the thin stone railing that separated Velzarian's throne from the abyss below. The crowd gasped, their eyes struggling to keep up with his movement.
Dark tilted his head slightly, a small, knowing smirk playing at his lips.
Dark: I would like to thank you for giving me an opportunity to show off my powers to you.
His voice was smooth, yet laced with something deeper—something that made even a king hesitate.
Velzarian remained still, his gaze unwavering, unreadable. Yet the sheer pressure of his aura bore down, covering the entire arena like an unyielding storm.
This was a man who had ruled unchallenged. A king who did not bow.
And now, he was looking directly at Dark.
Velzarian remained still, his expression unreadable, yet the sheer weight of his presence spoke volumes. The very air around him seemed heavier, as if the world itself acknowledged his authority.
A moment of silence stretched between them. Then, his deep, measured voice cut through the charged atmosphere.
Velzarian: ...You speak boldly for one who stands before a king.
Dark's smirk remained, undeterred by the sheer gravity of Velzarian's aura pressing against him like an unspoken challenge. He met the monarch's piercing gaze without falter, the flickering embers in his eyes betraying nothing but calm amusement.
Dark: A king? I see a man on a throne. Titles don't impress me. Strength does.
The crowd murmured, stunned at the blatant disregard for status. Some gasped, others whispered among themselves, trying to make sense of the audacity they had just witnessed.
Velzarian's fingers drummed lightly against the armrest of his throne, the only indication that Dark's words had reached him. Yet, his expression did not waver, his gaze sharper than steel.
Velzarian: (low, deliberate) And do you believe you possess the strength to speak to me in such a way?
Dark exhaled slowly, eyes half-lidded with something between amusement and indifference. He lifted a single hand and curled his fingers slightly, the very shadows beneath him writhing in response.
Dark: (calmly) I don't believe. I know.
At that moment, a shift rippled through the arena. The Summoning Veil pulsed once, unseen yet felt, a whispering tremor at the edges of reality itself.
A presence. No—a legion of presences.
Though they were not visible, the mere sensation of Dark's shadows stirring sent a deep chill through the spines of those watching. Malik, Raz, Igor, and now Clum—they were watching. And not just them. There were more. Much more.
Dark was not alone.
Velzarian's cold gaze flickered, just for a fraction of a second. A subtle recognition of something... different. Something beyond expectation.
The corner of Dark's lips curled ever so slightly.
Dark: Tell me, Velzarian. (leans forward slightly) Do you still see a man beneath you? Or do you see the future Emperor of the Multiverse standing at your gates?
The silence was deafening. The weight of his words crashed over the arena like an unrelenting wave, suffocating, absolute.
Velzarian stared at Dark for a long moment.
Then—he stood.
The throne behind him seemed to creak from the sheer force of his movement. The air trembled, his aura swelling as if responding to his unspoken will.
The barrier protecting the arena pulsed, tightening, reinforcing itself further as Velzarian descended the steps from his throne, each stride measured, controlled. His imperial robes billowed behind him, and his very presence shifted.
For the first time, he acknowledged Dark not as a mere warrior, not as an arrogant challenger—but as something more.
Stopping just a few feet away from Dark, Velzarian let the silence stretch once more before he finally spoke.
Velzarian: You... intrigue me.
Dark tilted his head, waiting.
Velzarian: I have ruled over this land for centuries. I have seen men and monsters alike, kings and conquerors, gods and devils—each believing themselves above the natural order. Yet none have stood before me and declared themselves the future Emperor of the Multiverse with such certainty.
He paused, studying Dark's expression, as if searching for hesitation. He found none.
Velzarian: (quietly) I wonder... will you prove yourself different?
Dark's eyes gleamed.
Dark: There's only one way to find out, isn't there?
The tension sharpened, the space between them feeling like it could collapse at any moment.
Velzarian's lips pressed into a thin line. Then, without warning—he smirked.
A dangerous, knowing smirk.
Velzarian: Very well, Future Emperor. Let us see if you can withstand the weight of a true king.
The arena roared to life once more, the energy surging, the spectators barely able to contain themselves. Something had shifted. This was no longer just a meeting.
Velzarian's smirk lingered, but Dark's expression remained unreadable—sharp, unwavering, exuding an unshakable presence that silenced even the murmurs of the crowd.
Dark: A king? (chuckles) You're still clinging to that, huh?
Velzarian's gaze darkened slightly, but he remained silent, observing.
Dark: You rule over people, weigh them by their status, bloodlines, the power they were born with. That's the difference between you and me. I don't care about kings, titles, or thrones. I don't acknowledge rulers who sit above others just because the world says they should.
The air tensed. The weight of Dark's words wasn't just defiant—it was absolute.
Dark: Power doesn't mean control. Power doesn't mean domination. And power sure as hell doesn't mean deciding who's 'worthy' to exist at the top.
Velzarian's aura pulsed, golden sigils spreading from his feet, weaving into the very foundation of the arena. The sky itself trembled, as if the weight of his existence bent the world to his will.
Velzarian: (low) And what do you believe it means?
Dark's eyes gleamed, his shadows swirling with an eerie, commanding stillness.
Dark: Change.
A single word, yet it cut through everything.
Dark: Power is a tool. A means to shape the world, not rule over it. I will create a place where status, origin, race—none of it matters. No weak to be preyed upon. No strong who think their existence alone makes them untouchable.
His voice was steady, resolute, filled with the sheer certainty of someone who had seen too much, endured too much, to accept anything less.
Dark: The world needs to be rebuilt. And if that means tearing down the very foundation of what people like you stand on? (tilts head slightly) So be it.
The crowd's reaction was stifled by the sheer weight of the moment. Even those who had never once questioned the king's rule felt something stir—a realization, a discomfort they never expected to feel.
Velzarian studied Dark in silence. Then, slowly, a chuckle rumbled from him—not mocking, but intrigued.
Velzarian: (quietly) You speak like a man carrying the weight of the entire world on his shoulders.
Dark's smirk was faint, but his gaze was unwavering.
Dark: I am.
Velzarian's fingers twitched, his golden aura flaring, the sheer force of his will pressing down on everything beneath him.
Velzarian: Then prove it.
Dark exhaled, shadows whispering at his feet.
Dark: Thought you'd never ask.
The sky split. The ground shattered.
And in an instant—they clashed.
Velzarian moved first.
His presence alone bent reality, golden arcs of light spiraling from his fingertips, expanding into massive constructs of raw power. The very fabric of the sky shimmered, his influence manifesting in celestial glyphs that hummed with divine authority.
Dark didn't move—yet.
The arena trembled beneath Velzarian's sheer might. The king's palm opened, summoning an intricate golden spear, its tip crackling with overwhelming energy. His stance was effortless, yet his very presence dictated absolute rule over the battlefield.
Velzarian: If you wish to change the world...
He vanished.
The next instant, he was above Dark, spear plunging downward like a divine judgment meant to erase all in its path.
Velzarian: Then you must withstand the will of those who already control it!
The air split apart from the force.
But Dark—Dark simply raised a hand.
A single shadowed finger met the spear's tip.
A heartbeat passed.
Then—detonation.
The ground beneath Dark's feet imploded, massive shockwaves rippling outward as raw force screamed through the battlefield. The audience saw nothing but a burst of golden devastation engulfing the entire platform.
And yet—Dark stood, unmoved.
His feet had not shifted.
His eyes gleamed with something far beyond mere confidence.
Dark: Is that it?
Velzarian's spear trembled against the lone fingertip stopping its descent.
Velzarian's gaze narrowed slightly, but there was no frustration—only deepening interest.
Velzarian: You resist divine force with mere shadows?
Dark's smirk was razor-sharp.
Dark: Shadows? (low chuckle) You think that's all I am?
His finger pushed forward—just slightly.
Velzarian's entire body lurched backward, the force from Dark's minimal movement cracking the air itself. The king twisted, flipping midair as he landed atop one of his golden constructs, eyes flashing.
Velzarian: Hmph... Not bad.
Dark flexed his hand, his shadows twisting, changing—becoming something far more dangerous than just darkness. The very space around him warped, his presence distorting the laws of nature itself.
Dark: I told you.
His voice was calm, but his aura spoke volumes—the battlefield no longer belonged to Velzarian.
Dark: This isn't about ruling. This isn't about kings or gods.
He raised his gaze, his smirk turning slightly sharper.
Dark: This is about who's willing to break the world first to rebuild it the right way.
Velzarian let out a slow breath, his own power rising in response.
Velzarian: Then let's see whose conviction stands at the end of this.
Their auras collided, splitting the heavens—a war between an unshaken king and the one who refused to kneel.
Velzarian's eyes sharpened as Dark's presence warped the battlefield itself. The very concept of reality trembled beneath the weight of his will—not shadows, not darkness, but something far beyond comprehension.
The king tightened his grip on his spear, golden radiance surging once more.
Velzarian: Break the world, you say? And what? Rebuild it in your own image?
Dark's smirk barely twitched, his hands still tucked lazily in his pockets.
Dark: Not my image. The right one.
Velzarian narrowed his gaze, but Dark didn't give him the chance to respond.
A pulse—no, a distortion.
The world folded around Dark's presence, space bending and twisting as a sheer wave of unseen force crushed downward like an invisible tidal wave. The ground beneath them screamed as cracks veined outward, spiraling across the battlefield like ruptured glass.
Velzarian reacted instantly, raising a single hand. A golden barrier surged to life—intricate, absolute, divine.
Yet in the next instant, it shattered.
Not broken. Erased.
Velzarian's eyes widened just slightly, a flicker of something rare flashing in his gaze.
Dark: Your authority means nothing to me.
Velzarian barely had time to blink before Dark vanished—no movement, no signal, just absence.
Then—
A shadow loomed behind him.
Dark: If you want to test my conviction, then hold your ground, "King."
A fist descended.
Impact.
The sky rippled violently, golden light and abyssal force colliding in a devastating explosion that sent the entire battlefield into chaos. The air itself bent, time lagging behind the sheer force of the blow.
Velzarian blocked, but the moment their power clashed, his body was flung backward, tearing through the air as if gravity itself had betrayed him.
For the first time in a millennium, he had been forced back.
Velzarian's boots dug into the ground, divine flames igniting beneath him as he finally came to a halt, a deep trench carved behind him from sheer force alone.
He lifted his head slowly, his expression unreadable.
Velzarian: (Low, thoughtful) Interesting...
Dark stood where he had first attacked, still calm. Still untouched.
Dark: I'd hope so. I'm not even trying yet.
Velzarian exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders.
Velzarian: Then let's change that.
Golden energy erupted around him, the weight of a thousand worlds pouring into his very being.
But Dark... Dark simply smiled.
To Be Continued....
End Of Arc 5 Chapter 13.