I didn't wait.
The moment Garg returned and confirmed the Overlord's interest, I opened a portal myself.
Not a violent tear.Not an announcement.
A deliberate doorway—stable, precise, and unmistakably intentional.
Darkness folded inward, forming a circular gate of black-red energy edged with molten sigils. On the other side waited corrupted land and a presence that pressed against reality like gravity made sentient.
I stepped through alone.
The portal sealed behind me.
The Overlord was already there.
He stood at the heart of his domain, vast and partially unbound, darkness flowing off him in slow, predatory currents. His attention locked onto me immediately—not surprised, not threatened.
Curious.
"So," he said, his voice layered with echoes of conquest and ruin. "You come yourself."
"I don't send expendable envoys for matters that decide worlds," I replied calmly, planting my staff into the ground.
For a moment, we simply existed in the same space.
Then—
The probing began.
Not words.
Power.
The Overlord let a fraction of his presence expand, pressure rolling outward like an invisible tide meant to crush will and expose weakness. I answered in kind—my aura unfolding, spellwork stabilizing reality around me as forbidden magic, ancient necromancy, and Monstrox's perfected control aligned behind my eyes.
The ground trembled.
Darkness met darkness.
No explosions. No wasted force.
Just measurement.
He pushed.
I endured.
I pushed back.
He noticed.
Time stretched. Minutes passed. Then more. It felt like hours—not because we spoke, but because we tested. Subtle reality distortions. Conceptual pressure. Attempts to dominate space, to overwrite authority, to see who would blink first.
Neither of us did.
I understood the truth before he said it—and I knew he had reached the same conclusion.
I was slightly weaker than him.
But not enough.
If he tried to destroy me, he would win—but he would emerge crippled, drained, fractured.
And the First Spinjitzu Master would finish him.
He knew it.
I knew it.
And that knowledge changed everything.
At last, the pressure eased.
The Overlord straightened, darkness settling back into its controlled configuration.
"You are not a servant," he said. "And you are not prey."
"Nor am I a rival foolish enough to force a premature war," I replied.
Silence.
Then he laughed—quietly, thoughtfully.
"We are at an impasse," he said.
"No," I corrected. "We are at an opportunity."
That was when we finally spoke.
Not boasting.Not threats.
Strategy.
We discussed timing. The First Spinjitzu Master's decline. How much interference would alter fate too soon. How much restraint was required to let history weaken our common enemy without denying us victory.
We spoke of armies.
Mine—modular, expendable, loyal to power rather than ideology.His—limited for now, but destined to grow.
We spoke of betrayal openly.
Neither of us pretended it wouldn't happen.
Only when.
And what it would cost.
In the end, the agreement was simple.
Temporary cooperation.Shared objective.No attempts at domination—yet.
The Overlord extended a hand of living darkness.
I placed my staff against the ground and met his gaze.
"Until the First Spinjitzu Master falls," I said.
"Until then," the Overlord agreed.
The pact sealed itself—not with magic, but with mutual self-preservation.
I turned, reopening my portal.
As I stepped through, I felt his gaze on my back—not hostile.
Assessing.
I returned to my domain knowing one thing with absolute certainty:
The war for Ninjago had just gained a third pillar.
And when it finally collapsed—
Only one of us would still be standing.