The White King sat upon his throne.
He could feel it—his power thinning, flaking away like ash carried by a slow wind. Every breath came heavier than the last. Every moment stretched longer, duller, as if time itself were losing interest in him.
All of it… still not enough.
"Haven't I done something right…?" he murmured.
He looked down at his hands.
They were pale. Weathered. Old. Power that once bent reality now trembled in his palms, unstable, unraveling. The corruption of the void gnawed at his body from within, invisible yet merciless, breaking him piece by piece.
Why is there no result?
He had done everything right. Every sacrifice. Every impossible choice. And yet—
Nothing.
It wasn't enough.
Now… he didn't know what to do anymore.
The colossal windows lining the palace reflected a broken sky. From here, he could see the city—his city—stretching endlessly beneath him. He wondered about the well-being of his citizens. Even in suffering, his pain was that of someone who still held power.
And those without power…
Those who lived their entire lives drowning in suffering—
He could only grieve with those who still had something left to lose.
I am hollow, he thought.
I am dying.
My fate is fading.
Yet—
My will does not falter.
Days passed.
Reports flooded in—screaming crowds, riots, desperation. Martial law was declared, sealing citizens within the palace and inner districts. Outside, Yuruki worked in silence, constructing machines upon machines, secretly carving a vast bunker beneath the kingdom—assembling more automatons, more weapons, more processors scavenged from whatever remained.
The kingdom was sealed completely.
Soldiers died in waves, thrown into the corruption to slow it—most never returned. Only a handful of light soldiers remained, those capable of casting magic from afar, barely holding the line.
And spreading across the world was something far worse.
A flesh-formed monstrosity, ever-growing, ever-consuming.
It called itself The Renewal.
At the same time, another presence rose—
A man in a black suit, seizing cities and kingdoms alike, crowning himself Emperor wherever he walked.
Kaloterm Kingdom was locked down entirely. Nothing in. Nothing out.
For the safety of its people.
Some would call it cruelty.
The White King understood the truth.
He could not save everyone.
His duty was to his citizens—not the rest of the world.
His power was not enough to choose both.
Emotionless eyes gazed forward as he stepped onto the platform. No anger. No regret.
Only resolve.
This was happening.
And he would act.
Then—
A sound tore through the heavens.
Bombs capable of shattering mountains struck the barrier, blooming into towering mushroom clouds of light and fire. The King's eyes widened as soldiers unleashed beams of magic and laser fire—only for it all to be stopped cold by advancing automatons and colossal behemoths.
He spread his wings.
White wings—each as wide as a house—unfurled from his back, cracked and splintered, barely holding together. He launched himself forward as the barrier—an artifact said to be unbreakable—fractured.
Impossible.
From the smoke stepped a figure cloaked in a hood.
An axe at one side.
A sword at the other.
The King's breath caught.
This can't be happening.
Then—
A ridiculous sight.
A literal animal costume head—
A bunny.
"HELLO! I AM PIERCEBOX!"
The voice boomed through amplified magic and speakers, overflowing with bravado.
"THE GREATEST, STRONGEST, AND COOLEST PERSON OF ALL!"
The King could only stare.
Livid.
"PREPARE TO BE CAPTURED!"
Button-shaped bombs rained onto the ground as fleets of battleships filled the sky. Infrastructure unfolded mid-air. Towers moved. Engines screamed.
A yellow-haired boy stood among it all, calmly commanding hundreds of automatons the size of towers. Behemoths surged forward, seizing soldiers and light casters alike.
Then—
Teleportation.
White swords erupted at the King's side, pure magic given form.
Piercebox smiled.
"You must be the king, right?"
He blocked one blade.
The King kicked him.
Bone shattered. Roads collapsed as Piercebox was launched through buildings.
He drank a potion.
Stood back up.
Fine.
Why… the King wondered.
How can a human do this?
Someone so powerless—
Breaking into the palace.
Kidnapping citizens.
The King fired beams of light, slicing through ships—
Piercebox only smirked.
He pulled something from a dreamcatcher.
A wish.
Black chains slammed the King into the ground, binding him.
"WHAT IS THIS?!" the King roared, struggling—his thoughts with his people.
"A wish artifact," Piercebox replied casually. "Grants the user's desire."
The King cut.
Not steel—concept.
Unbreakability itself shattered as he tore free, flying through Piercebox.
Nuclear warheads launched.
Entire layers of the city were erased.
The King compressed fire and smoke with telekinesis, coughing as the void cracked his body further. A sword the size of mountains tore through the sky toward Piercebox.
"BRING IT ON!" Piercebox shouted.
"I'LL SAVE EVERYONE! EVEN YOU!"
Hundreds of scrolls activated at once—magic overlapping, stacking, spiraling out of control.
"I WILL NOT," the White King roared, wings tearing apart, "LET ANYONE THREATEN MY PEOPLE—UNTIL THIS WORLD DIES!"
And so—
The battle began.
A normal human.
An ascended king.
Two wills colliding.
Two perspectives.
But this time... The story wasn't from this two.