As Atem's deck surged across the battlefield, the three otherworlders—Shogo, Kyoya, and Kiara—realized their miscalculation far too late. The suppression pillars were gone, the soldiers in disarray, and above it all, Atem hovered, a godlike presence commanding his monstrous legion.
Shogo's eyes narrowed, muscles tensing like coiled steel. He roared, charging at Atem, swinging with devastating brute strength meant to crush anything in his path. But from the sky, three Blue-Eyes White Dragons descended, each scale glinting like frozen lightning. They collided with Shogo mid-charge, their roars blending with his own in a thunderous clash. Tendrils of shadow and radiant beams erupted from Atem's form, wrapping around Shogo's fists and armor. Every strike Shogo landed was countered with precision, bone-crushing force meeting impossible speed. He struggled to break free, but the dragons' power, fused with Atem's will, was absolute.
Kyoya moved next, a whirlwind of precision and agility. He darted among the chaos, sword flashing in calculated arcs. Atem's shadow tendrils lashed out instantly, colliding with Kyoya's strikes, slicing through steel like paper. Clones of Dark Magician erupted around him, firing simultaneous volleys of destruction—flames, magical missiles, and shadow beams—forcing Kyoya to retreat again and again. Each swing of his blade was shredded midair, sparks scattering into the night. Kyoya's eyes burned with desperation; even his fastest attacks could not touch Atem's omnipresent field. Kiara, ever cruel and cunning, raised her hands, summoning fire serpents and twisted magical constructs. "You will burn under my power!" she hissed. But Atem's Red-Eyes Black Dragons appeared from the shadows, crashing into her spells mid-formation. Her magic, which could have leveled entire battalions, was devoured as if it had never existed. Atem's clones and summoned monsters encircled her, their attacks relentless. Every attempt to cast another spell met instant annihilation: fire consumed by shadow, ice shattered by radiant energy. Kiara's laughter faltered, turning to a whisper of fear. The battlefield became a whirlwind of monsters and magic. Atem's deck—specters from his past life, spirits of the Veldora cave, and countless clones of Dark Magician—swarmed the otherworlders with surgical precision. Shadow tendrils twisted around Shogo, light beams seared Kyoya's path, and spectral dragons devoured Kiara's magic before it could even form. Above the battlefield, Atem's eyes glimmered with divine judgment. "No mercy," he whispered. "They dared to threaten Eterna. Let them be the first of many sacrifices."
By the time the Falmuth soldiers realized the pillars were gone, and the otherworlders neutralized, panic had already spread like wildfire. Screams filled the air, banners collapsed, and Atem's monsters swept across the battlefield like a tide of divine retribution.
From above, Atem hovered calmly, eyes glowing like molten gold. His presence alone twisted the air, warping reality around him. He surveyed the battlefield, noting the last pockets of resistance.
"Enough," Atem said, his voice cutting through the screams like a blade. "It is time."
He raised his hands to the sky, and from the void between shadow and light, a sphere of black-and-gold divine energy materialized above the battlefield. It pulsed with a terrifying rhythm, as if breathing in the fear and despair of every soldier below.
"Eclipse of the Forsaken!" Atem roared.
The sphere expanded with a blinding surge of energy. Souls were ripped from the bodies of soldiers instantly, their screams twisting into the dark-gold light, feeding Atem's aura. The air thickened with power, each pulse bending the battlefield around it. Horses, knights, archers, priests—nothing could resist the pull. Their fear, their despair, their very lives were transformed into fuel for Atem's ascension.
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The sphere's radius widened. Entire units vanished, leaving behind only the echoes of terror. Atem's monsters—already wreaking havoc—continued their assault, preventing any survivors from fleeing. Blue-Eyes and Red-Eyes Dragons shredded any soldier who tried to run, Dark Magicians cut through formations with unerring precision, and spectral copies of other fallen monsters surged forward in perfect coordination.
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Atem's eyes narrowed. The sphere pulsed faster, drawing more energy with each passing second. Soldiers clawed at their own chests in panic, priests tried desperately to invoke holy magic, but the pull of Eclipse of the Forsaken was absolute. Nothing could resist.
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The final cries erupted as the last pockets of the Falmuth army were torn apart. The sphere shimmered, consuming the last resistances, until all twenty thousand soldiers lay lifeless, their souls trapped within the black-and-gold vortex. Atem's aura blazed like a living sun of judgment, shadows and golden light entwined in perfect balance.
<
The battlefield was eerily silent. Tens of thousands of Falmuth soldiers, along with the otherworlders Shogo, Kyoya, and Kiara, had been utterly annihilated. Smoke spiraled from broken tents and shattered siege engines, and the ground was littered with bodies. Even the suppression pillars that had drained Eterna's monsters were now nothing more than rubble.
Atem stood at the center, his cloak billowing in the wind, his golden eyes scanning the devastation. The overwhelming flood of souls pressed against him like molten chains, each one a pulse of energy feeding the raw power building inside him. His body trembled slightly—not from fatigue, but from the sheer force of the magic flowing through him—yet his mind remained sharp, controlled, and unyielding.
Then, the Oracle's voice echoed softly inside his mind.
<
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Atem's eyes swept the battlefield one last time. The destruction was total; the enemies had been annihilated, the otherworlders defeated. Yet, he could not allow even the faintest risk to jeopardize the Ascension.
Atem's eyes opened, sharp and commanding, though heavy with the pull of drowsiness. "I will proceed with the demon summoning," he said, his voice cutting through the hum of residual magic, resolute and unyielding despite the fatigue pressing against him.
He lifted a hand, the air itself trembling under the weight of his presence. "Come forth, demons. Heed my call, and take all of these bodies as an offering," he declared, his voice like steel, resonating across the battlefield.
For a moment, nothing happened. Then, the very ground seemed to shiver. A wave of oppressive, divine energy rolled outward from Atem, and the remnants of the Falmuth army—soldiers, archers, even their fallen commanders—began to vanish. Flesh, armor, and weapons disintegrated into faint streams of golden and black light, drawn inexorably toward Atem's pedestal. The souls screamed, but their cries were absorbed, twisted into raw energy, fueling the Demon Lord's ascension.
Souei, watching from afar, felt the chill of terror crawling up his spine. Even he, accustomed to observing Atem's power, could not fully comprehend the scale of what was happening.
Then, from the swirling energy around the pedestal, three figures slowly materialized. They were dressed in crisp, black-and-white butler uniforms, standing perfectly straight as though nothing in the world could perturb their composure. Their eyes glowed faintly, not with humanity, but with the same energy that had been drawn from the battlefield.
Each demon radiated a presence both servile and terrifying. Despite their refined appearance, the aura they exuded was undeniably lethal—crafted for obedience, yet capable of annihilation. They bowed slightly to Atem.
"You three, there are still some who have fled. Capture them alive and hand them over to my servant, Ranga," Atem's command rang out, his voice sharp and absolute, carrying the weight of authority that brooked no argument.
Even as the words left his lips, he felt his form waver. The immense flow of energy, the strain of controlling countless souls, and the lingering exhaustion from battle made it increasingly difficult to maintain his presence in the field. He knew he needed to retreat to a safe location.
"It is an honor to receive our first task," one of the newly summoned butler demons said, bowing with impeccable precision. "It has been some time since we have received such a magnificent offering. We cannot help but be eager to serve."
"What you ask is but a trifle, O new Demon Lord," another said, their tone respectful yet tinged with a dark amusement. "May we continue to serve you after this?"
Atem's piercing gaze swept over them. He remained calm, but every word carried the weight of command. "Prove your usefulness first. There will be time to speak later. Now, go," he said.