The sky bled light.Not sunlight, not fire — but the radiance of gods colliding, tearing the firmament apart. The divine realm, Elyndor, once the throne of eternity, was now a battlefield painted with stars shattered into dust.
And at the heart of it stood one figure, unmoving amidst the storm — Arthur Virelith, the Shadow Sovereign.
His armor gleamed like obsidian kissed by moonlight, each movement whispering of something older than creation itself. Shadows coiled at his feet as if the void itself bowed to him. In one hand, he held his blade — Umbra's Edge, a weapon forged from the absence of light, humming with quiet menace.
Around him, twelve thrones encircled the battlefield — the seats of the High Pantheon. One by one, their occupants descended, their halos dimmed not by exhaustion but by fear.
"Arthur Virelith," spoke the God of Storms, his voice rolling like thunder. "You have trespassed the divine order. Your power has become an affront to the heavens themselves."
Arthur's gaze lifted to meet them, his silver eyes gleaming faintly beneath the shadows. "Order?" His tone was calm — dangerously so. "You call it order when twelve cower before one?"
The Goddess of Light, radiant and trembling, raised her staff. "You sought dominion over all domains. Shadows creeping into light, blades that cut through creation — your ambition would end us all."
Arthur's lips curved slightly, not in humor, but in contempt. "And yet," he said, "you all wield the power I granted you. Do not speak of balance while you feast upon what you stole."
The wind stilled. The gods looked at one another — some ashamed, others defiant. Behind their grandeur lay a truth no one dared voice:Arthur's strength had long surpassed theirs. Once, they had revered him. Then they feared him. Now, they sought to erase him.
"Enough!" bellowed the God of Flame, his aura scorching the sky. "You were never one of us. You were born from shadow, not from light. Your very existence is corruption!"
Arthur stepped forward. The ground beneath him fractured, darkness spreading like veins through marble. "Then perhaps," he murmured, "corruption is what the divine needs."
With that, the storm broke.
A thousand divine spears of light rained from above. Arthur raised Umbra's Edge, his movement fluid, serene — and the world itself seemed to hold its breath. Each spear that met his blade dissolved into black mist. Each god that approached found their radiance swallowed whole.
The battle became a symphony — light clashing with shadow, thunder against silence, flame against the void.
And yet, for every divine power unleashed, Arthur met it not with rage but with precision. His every motion carried purpose, not desperation. Even as gods fell and rose again, his gaze remained steady — cold and regal.
"You cannot win," the God of Storms gasped, staggering as half his essence turned to smoke.
Arthur tilted his head. "Winning was never the goal."
A tremor ran through the heavens as he raised his sword skyward. From the blade's edge, shadows erupted — vast tendrils blotting out light, devouring the stars. The divine hall dimmed until all that remained was the faint glow of Arthur's silver eyes.
"Umbra Dominion," he whispered.
The phrase echoed like the toll of a thousand bells. The shadows surged, consuming light and sound, erasing divinity itself. Gods screamed as their halos cracked under the weight of the darkness.
And for a fleeting moment, Elyndor was silent.
Then came the radiance.
From the heart of the Pantheon, twelve divine seals ignited — ancient symbols of unity. The gods, desperate and trembling, bound their power as one.The Seal of Eternity, a forbidden art, was cast — a prison forged from the collective betrayal of the gods.
Arthur watched as the sigils formed around him, weaving chains of light that even he could not dispel. He did not fight back — not immediately. He only whispered, more to himself than to them:
"So it comes to this."
The light tightened, sinking into his flesh, his power bleeding into the earth. Cracks ran through his armor, through his blade, through the very space around him.
And still, he stood tall.
Even as the world turned white with divine fury, his voice carried through the storm — low, calm, eternal.
"You fear the dark because it reminds you of what you've buried.""But remember this — no light shines forever."
The seals detonated.
Light consumed shadow, heaven consumed god, and the divine realm split apart.