The arena had turned into a cratered wasteland. The divine gold of Velzarian's aura still pulsed across the fractured battlefield, but it was beginning to waver. The king's breathing had become heavier, his movements just a little slower. And across from him—Dark remained untouched.
Dark: You're not weak. Far from it.
He stepped forward through the dust, each footstep shattering more of the already ruined floor beneath.
Dark: But you're not me.
Velzarian's spear, chipped and scorched with cracks of black, dissolved into glowing fragments at his side. He extended his hand again, summoning a massive golden blade shaped like a royal sigil. It vibrated with destructive energy, singing hymns of divine law.
Velzarian: I am the balance between order and chaos. The sovereign of unity. I—
Dark: You're dragging out a monologue to hide the fear behind your eyes.
That stopped the king.
Dark tilted his head slightly, his voice quiet but heavy.
Dark: I can feel it. The hesitations in your breath. The twitch in your sword hand. The crack in your resolve.
Velzarian's jaw clenched.
Dark: You've never fought someone who makes you question why you even rule.
Velzarian's blade rose as his golden aura burned like wildfire.
Velzarian: Then allow me to silence that doubt.
He blitzed forward, faster than he'd ever moved, golden symbols orbiting around him like stars in a dying solar system. With each step, he collapsed the laws of gravity, sound, even time itself—bending them to his sovereign will.
Dark watched.
Waited.
Then—
He moved.
Not through the air, not across the floor.
He moved through existence itself.
One moment, Velzarian was inches away.
The next—
Dark was behind him.
A thin line appeared across Velzarian's back as his robe tore from the force. He coughed, stumbling forward, confused, disoriented.
Dark: You're slower now.
Velzarian whirled around, rage igniting his body like a sun ready to go nova. His blade struck down, golden light screaming as it tore through reality.
Dark caught it.
With one hand.
And crushed it.
Shards of golden divine metal exploded outward, dissipating into smoke. Velzarian staggered back, breathing harder, his pupils narrowing.
Dark didn't say anything. He simply raised his hand again, and the shadows beneath his feet surged like a tidal wave.
Velzarian raised a hand to defend—
But the shadows didn't strike.
They wrapped around him.
Restrained him.
They didn't just bind his body—they pressed against his will. Against his authority. Against his title.
Velzarian: What is this—?!
Dark: Pressure.
The weight of everything Velzarian never understood crashed onto his soul. Every scream from a citizen forced to kneel. Every weakling crushed under divine law. Every ounce of suffering caused by kings who sat too long on thrones forged in arrogance.
Dark: This is the weight I carry every day. The voices I remember. The world I watch.
Velzarian dropped to one knee.
His hands trembled.
Dark stepped forward, his expression unchanged.
Dark: You're not weak, Velzarian. You're just... misaligned.
Velzarian tried to rise, pushing against the shadowy pressure, sweat beading down his temples.
Dark: You think status brings order. That power justifies command. But order without choice is tyranny.
He stopped in front of the kneeling king, crimson eyes glowing faintly.
Dark: I've fought stronger beings than you. Igor. Malik. Raz. Caelum. They didn't kneel because they lost—they kneeled because they understood. They saw something more.
Velzarian: ...You speak as if you're their savior.
Dark: No.
He looked down at him coldly.
Dark: I'm their Emperor.
Velzarian's breath caught in his throat.
Dark: Igor was first. A warrior who gave everything for his pride. I shattered that pride—but gave him purpose.
He raised a hand, and a ghostly echo of Igor's silhouette flickered in the shadows behind him, before fading.
Dark: Then Malik and Raz. Emperors who reigned in Hell. Ancient, old as time. Beings that erased verses like scribbles on a wall.
More shadows rose—Malik's towering presence, Raz's burning gaze—only to vanish again.
Dark: And Caelum. The firestorm incarnate. My rival, once. Now?
He gestured behind him again, and Clum's new form, reborn in black-and-blue flame, crackled into view.
Dark: All of them? They made a choice. After I defeated them—after I earned their respect—I gave them the chance to walk beside me.
Velzarian stared, sweat mixing with blood at his brow.
Dark: They accepted. And with it, they retained their soul, their will, their strength—enhanced. I don't force loyalty.
His voice darkened.
Dark: But if you resist... if you try to run, to bite the hand that offered mercy...
He raised his hand slightly, and the shadows flared violently.
Dark: Then I take everything.
No soul.
No voice.
No self.
Only shadow.
Velzarian's shoulders trembled beneath the weight of the threat—not because he was afraid of death.
But because, for the first time, he saw what death truly meant in front of Dark.
Erasure.
Silence.
Nothing.
Dark stepped back and let the pressure ease.
Dark: So I offer you this, Velzarian. Not because I need another blade—but because I see something in you worth keeping.
He gestured to the ruined throne at the top of the stadium.
Dark: Walk away from that. Kneel now. And become something far more than a king of one nation.
Velzarian didn't answer immediately. He looked down at his shaking hands. At the fragments of his broken divine weapons. At the blood dripping from his wounds.
Then he looked up.
Velzarian: ...You would spare me?
Dark: No. I would elevate you.
Velzarian's eyes narrowed. His mind warred with the pride that defined him, the centuries of being revered, feared, obeyed.
But that pride had shattered the moment his blade was caught by one hand.
He rose slowly.
Velzarian: If I kneel... I lose my crown.
Dark: No. You replace it.
A long silence followed.
Then—
Velzarian exhaled sharply and dropped to one knee.
Not in weakness.
But in acceptance.
Velzarian: Then from this day forward... I stand under your banner.
Dark didn't smile.
He didn't gloat.
He simply nodded.
Dark: Good.
The shadows surged, circling Velzarian—but not to consume. They embraced him, embedding themselves into his aura like veins of ink into golden marble.
His divine power warped—not lost, but reforged. Regal gold blended with pitch black. His presence no longer divine in solitude, but harmonized with something greater.
Dark extended his hand.
Dark: Rise.
Velzarian stood, his form slightly altered—his robes darker, his aura colder, refined. His crown no longer gleamed as before—it flickered with a shadowy hue.
Velzarian: I am yours to command...my Emperor.
Dark glanced over his shoulder, the faintest hint of irritation flashing in his expression.
Dark: Velzarian's too long.
He turned fully now, shadows still swirling faintly around his feet.
Dark: From now on... you're Vel.
Vel raised an eyebrow, as if he hadn't heard correctly. He looked down for a moment, absorbing the weight of everything that just happened—his defeat, his submission, and now, this strange rebranding.
Vel: Vel?
Dark: Short. Clean. Don't question it.
Vel gave a small exhale through his nose. Not quite a sigh, not quite a laugh. He gave a nod.
Vel: Vel it is.
Dark: Good.
With no further words, Dark raised his hand.
Dark: Return.
Vel's body broke apart into streams of shadow and gold, his form dissolving into the swirling mass of the Summoning Veil. He was no longer a king of his own domain. He was now part of something far bigger. Dark's shadow—the seat of his empire—had grown once again.
Silence fell over the ruined battlefield. For the first time in hours, there was no heat, no pressure, no godly power clashing through the sky.
Dark stood alone at the center of it all.
Then, slowly, he glanced up toward the crowd—what was left of them. Nobles, warriors, commoners, and assassins alike stared down at him in disbelief. Many had fled during the battle, unable to withstand the sheer pressure of the fight. But those who remained... would never forget what they witnessed.
Dark turned away.
He began walking.
Each step was silent, yet heavier than the one before. The shadows around him had calmed now. His coat flowed gently behind him, and his hands slipped back into his pockets.
One by one... the world was bending to his will.
Igor was first.
Then the two Emperors—Malik and Raz.
After them, Caelum, reborn as Clum.
And now... Velzarian. Once the self-proclaimed God King of this land.
Now known as Vel—loyal to him.
Dark stood at the edge of the arena, eyes tracing the fractured skyline. The last wisps of smoke curled lazily into the air, fading into the golden-pink horizon as if the world itself was trying to pretend the battle had never happened. But the ground still bore the weight of it—cracked, scorched, trembling beneath memories that refused to die.
The wind carried silence.
And within him, they listened.
Igor. Malik. Raz. Clum. Vel.
Not speaking. Not interrupting. Just present.
Dark's voice broke the stillness.
Dark: So... this is what it means to be feared.
He looked down at his hand—steady, unshaken, shadow still wrapped loosely around his fingers like an extension of his breath.
Dark: (quietly) I'm not even sure who I am anymore.
His tone wasn't defeated. Just... tired. Reflective.
Dark: I've lost people. I've lost parts of myself. Parts that maybe needed to go... and parts I wish I still had.
The shadows around his feet stirred slightly, responding like a silent heartbeat.
Dark: I thought if I became someone different—if I left that broken version of me behind—I could fix something. Maybe I did. Maybe I didn't.
He sighed, the kind of sigh that carried months of unspoken weight.
Dark: I miss them. Leona. Gilmuar. Tier. Cron. Even Lara...
His words lingered, carried by the wind across the desolate field.
Dark: It's been too long. I don't even know if they'd recognize me now.
A pause.
Dark: I don't know if I would.
Then he looked up. His eyes sharpened.
Something shifted.
From the shoreline far ahead, past the stone steps and broken outer gates of the arena, a figure stumbled forward—barely more than a silhouette crawling through the dirt. His body was wrecked, armor scorched, blood staining every inch of cloth. One arm dangled uselessly at his side, and every breath he took was a struggle against death.
Dark turned, eyes narrowing as the man finally collapsed to one knee just before him, coughing violently. His voice cracked, soaked in blood.
The man collapsed, a trembling ruin of what once might have been a soldier. His voice clawed from his throat in a raspy growl, ragged and desperate, each syllable soaked in agony and iron.
Soldier: Y-You... please... you have to help...!
Blood pooled beneath his knees as he tried to stand again, bones cracking under the weight of determination and fractured armor. He coughed—hard—spitting crimson against the ash-stained stones.
Soldier: Th-There's a village... my home... not far from here... It's being torn apart. A monster... something not of this world. It came from the sea—ripped through our walls like they were paper...
He gasped, breath catching mid-sentence, before his voice returned with trembling force.
Soldier: We fought... gods, we tried... but nothing worked. It just... kept going. Please. You—whoever you are, whatever you are—if there's even a chance, you have to stop it...
Dark didn't move at first.
His eyes—crimson and cold, weary and sharp—studied the man kneeling before him. A stranger. A dying stranger. One whose blood had no connection to him, whose people had never spoken his name, who stumbled onto this ruined place by pure chance.
And yet...
The shadows around Dark stirred slightly—not as weapons, but as observers. Silent, watchful. Within him, Igor stood like a sentinel, Malik and Raz towered behind, Clum remained a flicker of flame and purpose, and Vel—the newest, still adjusting—listened, perhaps unsure what to feel.
Dark tilted his head slightly.
Dark: You don't even know who I am.
Soldier: I... I don't care!
The man's voice cracked louder than expected, his face contorted not with fear, but something deeper—pleading, raw, human.
Soldier: I don't care if you're a god or a demon. I saw what you did. I saw the sky crack. I saw the gold vanish and the shadows stand. If you can do that... you can save them.
The words cut deeper than the soldier knew.
Dark looked down again at his hand—the same hand that had once held his friends back from walking into death... the same hand that had burned cities... and saved them. The same hand that now held the power of five monsters who once ruled corners of existence, now bound to his cause.
He sighed, but this time it wasn't the same as before. There was a fire behind it now.
A new one.
Dark: You came here looking for hope. Not a king. Not a god. Just someone who could stand in front of the thing you couldn't.
He knelt slightly, just enough to meet the soldier's battered, bloodshot eyes.
Dark: I've watched kingdoms fall. I've watched gods lie. And I've seen the ones who fought for the weak get erased while monsters wore crowns.
He extended a hand.
Dark: But if you're willing... I don't just want to help your village. I want you to stand beside me.
The soldier blinked, dazed, unsure if he'd heard correctly.
Dark: I'm building something. Not an empire. Something beyond that. A shadow that protects instead of consumes. If you've got the strength to crawl all this way just to beg for your people... then I want that strength walking with me.
There was silence.
Then, slowly, trembling fingers reached up—bloodied, broken, shaking—and took Dark's hand.
Dark rose, lifting the soldier with him, supporting him not just with shadow, but with something far rarer: intention.
Dark: What's your name?
Soldier: ...D-Dain.
Dark: Dain. Noted.
The shadows flicked once at Dark's side, opening slightly—just enough for Dain to feel the warmth of power surround him, easing his pain, binding the bones, slowing the bleeding. Not healing. Not fully. But enough. Enough to keep him alive.
Dark stepped forward, eyes scanning the distant shoreline as the wind carried the scent of salt and smoke. The horizon shimmered with a pale, eerie light far beyond the hills.
And then he spoke—not to Dain. Not to the crowd. Not even to the sky.
To himself.
To the ones inside him.
Dark: Looks like it's time to visit another island.
He exhaled, shadow curling at his feet like a coiled beast preparing to move.
Dark: Let's see what the world's still hiding.
He didn't wait for applause. Didn't expect praise. He simply walked, his coat dragging ash in his wake, the sun dipping low behind him.
The future wasn't waiting.
He was coming for it.
With one more by his side.
To Be Continued.
End Of Arc 5 Chapter 14.