The throne room was quiet.
Not empty.
Quiet in the way a place becomes when it does not need to prove itself.
Dark sat on the throne with his posture loose, unforced. One arm rested along the carved obsidian armrest, fingers relaxed. The other hand supported his chin casually, elbow propped, as if he were watching the world rather than ruling it.
One leg was crossed over the other.
His cloak draped naturally around him, black fabric layered with subtle movement like it breathed when he did. The hood cast his upper face into shadow, hiding his eyes completely. No aura leaked from him. No pressure pressed outward.
It was all contained.
The massive doors at the far end of the hall opened.
Footsteps echoed.
Dantero walked in like the place belonged to him.
Hands in his pockets.
Shoulders relaxed.
A grin already halfway formed.
Dantero: Yo, big guy. I got an idea.
Dark did not move.
Dark: Hmm. What is it.
Dantero stopped a few steps short of the throne, rocking slightly on his heels.
Dantero: Let's throw a party.
Silence.
Dark's head tilted a fraction.
Dark: ...What.
Dantero: Yeah man. A real one. Invite a bunch of verses. A few nearby worlds. Let people come through, eat, drink, see the place.
Dark's fingers tapped once against the armrest.
Dark: Why.
Dantero spread his arms.
Dantero: Buddy. You just came back from training with Kaelith. The Kaelith. The woman who treats World-scale environments like punching bags.
Dark exhaled quietly.
Dantero: Let people see what you built. Not the scary Emperor version. The actual place. The empire.
Dark leaned back slightly.
Dark: Mm.
Dantero leaned forward.
Dantero: Come on, man. No politics. No speeches. Just... a night.
Dark was silent for a long moment.
Then—
Dark: Alright. Fine. Send the message.
Dantero froze.
Then his fist shot upward.
Dantero: YES.
He spun on his heel already walking away.
Dantero: I'll make it legendary.
Dark raised a hand and facepalmed slowly.
Dark: ...I regret this already.
Dantero laughed as the doors shut behind him.
Twenty minutes later.
The outer gates of the Dark Empire stood closed, towering structures of black stone and reinforced sigils layered by Tier's systems. Hundreds of invisible safeguards folded space inward, filtering entry down to the smallest fluctuation.
Beyond the gates, the arrivals waited.
Guests.
A guard's voice rang out across the battlements.
Guard: OPEN UP. THE GUESTS HAVE ARRIVED.
The gates began to part.
Stone slid against stone.
Light spilled inward.
The first to step through was a king.
He walked calmly, hands behind his back, posture straight but relaxed. His presence was unmistakable, not because it crushed the air, but because it settled it.
He wore a thin metallic headband across his brow, etched with symbols that pulsed faintly as he moved. His chest and abdomen were wrapped in layered armor and reinforced bands, leaving his arms free. The armor was old. Not damaged. Earned.
His eyes were sharp.
Measured.
Behind him came his entourage.
Demons with horns shaped like blades and spirals, their skin marked with glowing sigils that shifted with emotion.
Humans wearing cloaks woven from star-thread, eyes glowing faintly with internal systems unknown to this world.
Vampires draped in dark reds and silvers, moving without sound, smiles restrained.
Elves tall and pale, carrying staffs grown rather than forged, their magic breathing quietly around them.
And something else.
Tall figures with glass-like skin fractured by glowing veins of color. Their faces smooth, mouths rarely moving. A species that did not blink.
The king stopped just inside the gate.
He looked around slowly.
Then smiled.
King: Hmph. So this is the Dark Empire.
His voice was calm.
Confident.
Not mocking.
King: I expected silence. Not warmth.
A demon behind him chuckled.
Demon: Careful. Warmth can burn. Khekhe.
The king raised a hand slightly.
King: Only if you rush.
He stepped forward again.
Inside the throne room, Dark watched from above.
He did not rise.
He did not announce himself.
He simply observed.
The king's gaze lifted.
Their eyes met.
Or rather, the king looked into shadow.
The king stopped.
Then bowed.
Not deeply.
Not submissively.
Respectfully. Honoring Dark.
King: Emperor Dark.
Dark spoke without shifting.
Dark: Welcome.
The king straightened.
King: I am Kharos, sovereign of the surrounding Verses east of this World's boundary.
He gestured behind him.
Kharos: These are my people. We received your invitation and chose to attend personally.
Dark: You chose quickly.
Kharos smiled.
Kharos: Empires that invite instead of conquer are rare. We wished to see if the rumor was true.
Dantero leaned against a pillar, sipping something.
Dantero: Oh it's true. We're very friendly. Mostly.
Kharos glanced at him.
Kharos: I like him already.
Dark remained still.
Dark: You are all welcome here. For tonight, this is neutral ground.
A ripple of approval passed through the visitors.
A vampire inclined his head.
Vampire: How refreshing.
An elf murmured softly.
Elf: A ruler who does not posture.
Kharos clasped his hands behind his back again.
Kharos: Then we will enjoy your hospitality, Emperor.
He turned to his group.
Kharos: Be respectful. Observe. Learn.
The crowd began to disperse into the empire proper.
Music rose.
Voices followed.
Dark watched it unfold.
Dantero glanced up at him.
Dantero: See. Not so bad.
Dark exhaled slowly.
Dark: This better not become a habit.
Dantero grinned.
Dantero: No promises.
And above them all, the Dark Empire lived.
Not as a weapon.
Not as a threat.
But as a place people chose to walk into.
But then.
The air changed. The warmth that filled the empire only seconds ago faded, replaced by something older. It was not violent or heavy, but precise, like the world itself had chosen to correct its posture. Every torch burned lower. Every sound softened until even the hum of magic was gone.
The gates opened again. No one dared to breathe too loudly.
From the light outside walked Enra. He wore a simple dark coat, the sleeves rolled loosely to his elbows, his expression unreadable but calm. Each step he took sounded distant, like his feet were touching more than one surface at a time. The torches leaned toward him. The marble beneath his boots looked polished by his presence alone.
Every being in the room dropped to one knee. Demons, elves, humans, and vampires all bowed without command. No aura forced them to. Their bodies simply obeyed.
Leona's eyes widened as she felt the weight of him. Her hands trembled slightly even though she tried to stay still.
Leona: What is that feeling...
Cron exhaled, the sound barely audible.
Cron: That is not a feeling. That is a reminder.
Tier adjusted his glasses slowly, eyes scanning readings that no system could record.
Tier: The pressure is rewriting the air itself.
Dantero's grin faltered for the first time since the gathering began.
Dantero: I don't like this.
The air bent again. Behind Enra, light twisted and folded into itself until three more figures emerged.
The first was Larthax, Emperor of Continuum. He appeared like an echo of himself, his image flickering slightly out of sync before aligning perfectly. His form shimmered as though time itself hesitated to let go of him. Each breath he took seemed to rewind the world around him by fractions of a second.
Cron muttered under his breath, unable to look away.
Cron: That one... he exists in more than one timeline at once.
Larthax passed through the archway, and the temperature shifted, not colder, not hotter, but perfectly balanced. Even time held still for him.
Next came Lybel, Emperor of Ruin. His cloak dragged across the floor like liquid smoke, leaking faint black ash that vanished before it touched the ground. Every blink he took carried the quiet hum of finality. The stone under his boots cracked, healed, and cracked again, like the world could not decide if it wanted to survive his presence.
Leona whispered softly.
Leona: That one feels... wrong.
Cron: That is not wrong. That is decay. He is what happens when creation takes a breath.
Then the last appeared.
Luther, Emperor of Silence.
His arrival did not make sound. It unmade it. The moment he appeared, everything stopped. The torches froze in mid flicker. The hum of energy vanished. Even thoughts became slow. The entire hall became deaf in reverence.
Dantero's eyes darted around. His voice came out barely above a whisper.
Dantero: Can anyone still hear me?
Tier: No one hears you. He does not allow it.
Luther walked forward calmly, hands clasped behind his back, eyes half closed. The moment he stopped beside the others, sound returned in a slow exhale, like the world sighing in relief.
The four stood together without speaking, their presence rewriting the atmosphere of the empire. The floor, the air, and even the colors of the room seemed sharper, more defined.
All bowed.
Except one.
Dark remained seated on the throne, still, silent, one hand resting against his chin. His hood covered his eyes, but the air around him was steady, balanced, untouched by their gravity.
No one dared speak, but every being in the room could feel it.
He did not kneel.
He never had.
Dantero glanced up from where he knelt, his voice low.
Dantero: That's my Emperor.
Cron looked over briefly.
Cron: He really does not bend, even now.
Leona whispered quietly, almost afraid.
Leona: Then what are they?
Cron: The True Emperors.
Tier: Every one of them could erase this world by breathing differently.
Leona: And yet they're here.
Cron: To see him.
The four stood before Dark in perfect stillness.
Their presence did not push outward. It sank inward. The kind of weight that did not crush bones immediately, but convinced them they should break. The guests nearest the throne struggled just to keep their heads lifted. Some failed. Knees struck marble. Blood dripped from noses and ears as bodies instinctively surrendered.
Dark did not move.
He simply watched.
Enra spoke.
Enra: Seventh.
The word crossed the hall like a verdict.
The torches dimmed. Not flickered. Dimmed. Flames shrank and leaned inward, as if bowing. The air grew dense enough to taste. Several guests gagged and vomited blood onto the floor as their lungs forgot how to expand under the pressure.
Dark felt it reach him a breath later.
Not force.
Recognition.
His memory dragged him back to their first meeting. That same voice. Calm. Certain. Heavy enough to remind him how small everything else was.
Dark inhaled once.
Dark: Hey, Enra.
A demon collapsed instantly. Its legs snapped backward under its own weight, bones punching through skin as it slammed face first into the marble. An elf screamed as blood burst from their eyes, unable to withstand the shift. A vampire cracked the floor beneath their knees, teeth grinding as they bowed too hard, too fast.
Lybel turned his head.
Slowly.
His eyes settled on Dark.
Pale. Sharp. Empty of warmth.
There was no curiosity in them. No anger. Just the look of someone staring at something that should not exist in front of him.
Dark met his gaze.
Neither blinked.
Lybel stepped forward.
The floor did not crack.
It compressed.
Stone folded downward like soft clay under impossible weight. A deep vibration rolled through the empire. Guests cried out as ribs creaked and organs shifted violently inside their bodies. Blood splashed across the marble in thick arcs as pressure crushed the air from lungs.
Before Lybel could take another step, Enra moved.
He raised his hand and placed it flat against Lybel's chest.
The motion was effortless.
The result was catastrophic.
A circular depression formed beneath them as the ground was forced downward into unseen depths. Bodies near the impact were slammed flat. Bones shattered. Blood sprayed outward in wet bursts as spines bent the wrong way.
Lybel stopped.
His jaw tightened.
Lybel: This one irritates me.
His voice was quiet.
Disgusted.
Lybel: Let me bury him here.
Enra did not look at him.
Enra: No.
The word settled into the hall.
Not as an order.
As reality.
For a fraction of a second, Lybel's presence flared.
The sky above the empire darkened unnaturally. Guests screamed as blood poured freely from their mouths, organs failing under the sudden compression. A human noble burst apart at the chest, ribs tearing outward as his heart simply stopped functioning.
Then Lybel exhaled.
The pressure receded.
Lybel: My apologies.
He stepped back.
Silence returned in gasps and choking sobs.
Dark remained seated on the throne.
Unmoved.
Dark: You always greet people like this.
Lybel's eyes shifted back to him.
Lybel: You speak too freely.
Dark: You look bored.
Something flickered.
Not anger.
Interest.
Lybel: Interesting.
The warmth vanished.
Not replaced by cold.
Replaced by absence.
Color drained from the world.
Sound died.
Dark felt his chest tighten as if space itself had been hollowed out. His breath echoed endlessly, thin and distant.
Lybel was standing beside him.
No motion.
No warning.
Dark turned his head slowly.
Dark: Huh.
His voice rang through nothing.
Dark: Where are we.
Lybel looked ahead, posture relaxed, hands loose.
Lybel: Somewhere you should already be able to endure.
Color returned violently.
The sky split open above them, clouds tearing apart like wounded flesh. They stood suspended far above the Dark Empire. Winds screamed past with enough force to flay skin. Below, the empire looked small. Fragile. Breakable.
Dark's grip tightened as Kyuketsu formed in his hand, metal screaming softly as it manifested.
Lybel finally looked down at him.
Lybel: I have something for you.
Dark swallowed.
Dark: What.
Lybel glanced toward the world below, then back to Dark.
Lybel: A test.
Lybel: Let us duel.
Dark's eyes widened despite himself.
Dark: Right now.
Lybel nodded once.
Dark looked down.
At Leona.
At the others still kneeling.
At blood soaked marble.
Dark: Can I refuse.
Lybel's presence condensed.
Not exploding.
Compressing.
The air thickened violently. Dark felt his organs strain as pressure crushed inward. Blood spilled from his mouth as his tongue tore against his teeth. His knees trembled for the first time.
Lybel: Do not tempt me.
Dark exhaled slowly.
He stood.
Hands shaking.
Not from fear.
From understanding.
Dark: Yeah.
The word left his mouth heavier than it should have.
Not loud.
Not defiant.
It was acceptance.
The space around Dark reacted late, like it needed a second to understand what he had just agreed to. The wind screamed louder. The clouds above twisted violently, folding into each other in thick, bleeding spirals. Lightning crawled through the sky without sound, veins of pale white tearing across endless dark.
Lybel smiled.
Not wide.
Not cruel.
A small, disappointed curve of the mouth.
Lybel: Good.
Lybel lifted one finger.
Just one.
The pressure dropped.
Not downward.
Everywhere.
Dark felt it hit his body like an ocean collapsing inward. His ribs creaked. His spine screamed. Blood forced its way out of his nose and mouth as his organs shifted under impossible weight. The air was no longer air. It was something dense, suffocating, crushing thought itself.
Below them, the Dark Empire groaned.
Towers bent.
Not snapped.
Bent.
Stone warped like it had been heated past melting, folding inward on itself in slow, horrifying motion. Entire districts caved downwards as the ground compressed, layers of earth collapsing into deeper layers that should not have existed. People screamed. Most were cut off instantly as their bodies failed to withstand the pressure.
Leona cried out.
Leona: Dark!
Her voice did not reach him.
It died halfway up.
Dark tightened his grip on Kyuketsu.
His hands shook violently now.
Blood dripped from his chin, splashing against the blade in thick drops.
Dark: So this is how you fight.
Lybel tilted his head slightly.
Lybel: This is how I stand.
Dark pushed forward.
The motion alone tore muscle. His leg snapped backward at the knee before regenerating mid-step, bone grinding back into place with a sickening crack. He ignored it. Forced his body to obey.
Kyuketsu screamed.
The blade tore through the air, dragging a wound behind it. Space split open, a deep black gash stretching outward as Dark poured everything into the swing. The strike did not cut air. It cut existence.
Lybel raised two fingers.
The blade stopped.
Not blocked.
Stopped.
Kyuketsu vibrated violently, metal screaming in agony as stress fractures raced across its surface. Dark's arms jolted as the impact reverberated back through his body. Blood exploded from his shoulders as ligaments tore loose.
Dark's eyes widened.
Dark: What.
Lybel looked down at the blade.
Unimpressed.
Lybel: Still too dramatic.
Lybel flicked his wrist.
Dark vanished.
He reappeared meters away, then kilometers away, then somewhere that did not have distance at all. His body tore apart and reassembled over and over as space folded violently around him. Blood trailed behind each displacement like paint dragged across nothing.
Dark slammed into the ground hard.
Hard enough to crater it.
The impact sent a shockwave through the world below, splitting continents, tearing oceans apart, boiling seas into steam. Mountains collapsed inward, crushed into dust under the echo of that single landing.
Dark coughed violently.
Chunks of blood and tissue spilled from his mouth.
He pushed himself up.
His arms trembled.
For the first time in a long time, Dark felt it.
Small.
Lybel hovered above him, hands clasped behind his back.
Lybel: You see it now.
Lybel: The difference between effort and existence.
Dark forced himself to stand.
His legs buckled immediately.
He caught himself with Kyuketsu, the blade digging into the ground, sparks screaming as it resisted collapse. Blood poured freely from his body, soaking the stone beneath him.
Dark: You are human too.
Lybel's eyes darkened.
Not with anger.
With disgust.
Lybel: Do not lump me with you.
Lybel descended slowly.
Each step he took folded the world beneath it. Layers of ground compressed into nothing, erased not by destruction but by denial. Dark felt his lungs burn as gravity twisted sideways, pulling him toward Lybel against his will.
Lybel stopped in front of him.
Close enough for Dark to smell iron and ash.
Lybel: Humans cling to struggle like it means something.
Lybel: You scream. You bleed. You make speeches.
Lybel: Then you die.
Lybel grabbed Dark by the front of his cloak.
The fabric did not tear.
Dark did.
His ribs collapsed inward violently, bone punching through flesh as Lybel lifted him effortlessly. Blood sprayed across Lybel's arm and face, warm and thick.
Lybel: Kneel.
Dark laughed.
It came out broken.
Wet.
Dark: No.
Dark slammed his head forward.
The impact shattered sound.
Blood erupted between them as Dark's skull cracked again, fragments spraying outward. His vision went white, then black, then back again as regeneration barely kept up.
Lybel did not move.
He stared at Dark.
Then he returned the favor.
Lybel drove his forehead into Dark's.
The result was catastrophic.
Dark's head exploded.
Bone fragments, brain matter, blood, and tissue burst outward in a violent cloud. His body went limp instantly, twitching once before Lybel released him.
Dark fell.
The ground below split open as he hit, swallowing his body halfway before sealing again.
Silence.
Leona screamed.
Leona: NO.
She collapsed forward, hands clawing at the floor, tears mixing with blood as her body shook uncontrollably. Images flashed through her mind. The academy. His stupid grin. The way he always stood back up.
Gilmuar turned away sharply, vomiting onto the floor.
Cron stood frozen.
Eyes wide.
Silent.
Dantero's fists clenched.
No jokes.
No grin.
Just rage.
Lybel turned away.
Lybel: Sorry, Enra.
Lybel: He is not a True Emperor.
Enra's presence flared.
Not violently.
Authoritatively.
The world steadied.
Enra: He lives.
Leona snapped her head up.
Leona: What.
Enra gestured calmly.
Enra: Look.
Dark's body twitched.
Bone scraped.
Flesh pulled itself together slowly, grotesquely. Blood flowed backward, reentering wounds as shattered fragments dragged themselves into place. His skull rebuilt piece by piece, skin sealing last.
Dark pushed himself upright.
Unsteady.
Halfway.
Then fully.
His eyes found Leona.
Dark raised a trembling hand.
Dark: Domain World.
The world died.
Black swallowed everything.
A perfect sphere formed around Lybel, threads of absolute malevolence stitching themselves into existence from every direction. Each thread screamed as it pierced him. One. Ten. Millions. Trillions. Infinite lines of hatred and end impaled his body from all sides.
Lybel stood still.
Unmoving.
Then clapping echoed.
Slow.
Mocking.
Lybel stood behind Dark.
Whole.
Untouched.
Lybel: Six out of ten.
Lybel: You overcommit.
Dark turned slowly.
Frozen.
Lybel stepped closer.
Lybel: Did you know.
Lybel: That domains can be collapsed.
Lybel: Compressed.
Lybel: Combined.
Lybel smiled faintly.
Lybel: Singular Domains are much quieter.
The black sphere shattered.
Fragments rained down like glass.
Dark's body started fainting slowly, trying to stand.
Lybel lifts a hand slightly, just slightly, barely noticeable.
Blood sprayed outward as his body twisted violently into spiraling cuts, flesh peeling open without separating. He hit the ground hard, consciousness fading instantly.
Leona: Huh?... DARKKKK NOOOOOO!!!!!!!
She cries, shouts loud as tears fall down from her eyes.
Cron's eyes widen. Tier and Gilmuar eyes widen too.
Lybel vanished.
Enra exhaled then looked over at Larthax and gave him a faint nod.
Larthax nodded back.
Larthax inhaled.
Time stitched itself back together.
Enra lifted Dark's unconscious body onto his shoulder.
Enra: He will survive.
Leona stared.
Terrified.
Relieved.
Broken.
Dantero stepped forward, eyes burning.
Dantero: Bring him back.
To Be Continued.
End Of Chapter 6.