The Empire of Solmar was his.
The throne—carved from obsidian and veined with threads of aetherium—sat beneath him, cold and commanding. A relic of dynasties long gone, now re-forged in Kael's image. He leaned back into its embrace, not for comfort, but to remind himself of what had been conquered. Power was never meant to soothe. It was meant to remind.
And tonight, the reminders were everywhere.
The banners of rebellion had long been turned to ash. The Emperor lay forgotten, a shade of history, and nobles who once scoffed at Kael's name now bent the knee so swiftly their joints ached. But power… real power… was never about thrones or titles.
It was about who still dared to whisper in the dark.
And tonight, the shadows whispered of war.
Far beyond the imperial skyline, at the highest peak of Mount Cal'dros, the sacred temple of Valdris stood like a blade piercing the heavens. Its architecture was untainted by time—formed from divine crystal and celestial stone, lit by fires that had never dimmed since the first day of creation.
Within the inner sanctum, the Archons gathered.
Their forms shimmered with divine energy—shapes both human and unfathomable. Wings of pure light, halos of burning stardust, eyes that saw across realms.
And yet, silence reigned.
It was a silence borne not from peace—but from doubt.
"The time has come," intoned the First Archon. His voice echoed like thunder confined within glass—beautiful, terrible, final.
"The Dark One spreads his influence unchecked. The balance we were sworn to maintain—fractures."
Another Archon, draped in silver flame, nodded gravely. "If we do not act, this world falls. The heavens will cede it to corruption."
But not all were united.
Eryndor, the Shadow Serpent, leaned against a pillar of celestial marble, arms crossed. His long, dark robes rippled like liquid ink, in defiance of the light. His golden eyes observed the others—not with reverence, but with weariness.
"You speak of corruption," he said at last, voice smooth and sharp. "But what is it you fear? Darkness… or power you cannot leash?"
The chamber trembled with unspoken tension.
The First Archon turned. "You question the divine?"
"I question you." Eryndor's voice did not rise, but it struck like a blade of thought. "I question your fear."
A murmur rippled among the divine host.
But no further words were spoken.
The decision had been made. The Archons would strike.
And so, the heavens prepared for war.
In Solmar, the night was unusually still.
Lanterns glowed softly along the palace walls. Musicians played in distant courtyards where noble laughter echoed through silk-lined chambers. The city pulsed with the arrogance of a people who believed their ruler—Kael—had brought them peace.
But Kael… knew better.
He stood in the highest tower, gazing into the stars. Beside him, Selene adjusted the straps of her armor, gaze tense.
"Something's wrong," she murmured. Her voice held none of its usual steel—only the sense that some instinct deep within her soul had been triggered.
Kael remained silent.
He had felt it too.
A ripple in the world's fabric.
And then, the sky began to bleed.
At first, they seemed like comets—trails of light streaking across the heavens.
But comets did not scream.
The people looked up in awe… until awe turned to terror.
Flaming symbols etched into the sky, ancient sigils of judgment and purity, as golden streaks thundered downward. Dozens. Hundreds. Descending like divine blades from on high.
A sudden pulse of light exploded above the temple district—and the world caught fire.
A pillar of golden flame tore through marble and steel, reducing everything beneath it to ash. People didn't have time to scream. Their shadows burned into walls. Streets buckled. Noble homes, temples, and towers collapsed like sandcastles under the boot of gods.
Selene's breath caught. "They're here."
Kael did not blink. His mind had already calculated every pathway, every possible countermeasure, and already discarded the ones that would lead to loss.
He turned, cape billowing behind him.
"Summon the Black Talons. Activate the Abyssal Spires. And ready the Heart of Midnight."
Selene moved without hesitation.
Moments later, the gates of the Imperial Palace exploded inward.
And the Archons descended.
They came like avatars of wrath.
Wielding weapons of divine origin—blades that sang hymns, hammers that struck like comets, shields that deflected magic as if it were mist. Their eyes glowed with purpose. Their presence alone caused Kael's elite guards to falter, to kneel, to weep.
A dozen soldiers charged.
And were reduced to nothing.
Blades of radiance cleaved through enchanted armor as though it were parchment. Divine fire scorched skin, bone, and soul. Even the Black Talons—the finest of Kael's warriors—fell like mortals before titans.
This was no war.
It was an extermination.
One Archon hovered above the chaos, arms raised in benediction. "Let this be the cleansing of your sins. Submit to judgment."
Then the flames surged again.
And amidst the inferno, Kael walked forward.
He emerged from the palace, each step deliberate, aura coiling around him like a living shadow.
The battlefield froze.
Even the divine hesitated.
One Archon scoffed. "So this is the Emperor of Shadow. The corrupted usurper."
Kael's gaze fixed on him—calm, unreadable.
He stretched his hand, and the world seemed to still.
"You should have stayed in your heavens."
In a blink, Kael moved.
One instant, he stood still. The next, his hand gripped the Archon's throat midair.
The divine being's wings faltered. He gasped—not for air, but for power. Because he could feel it: his essence being devoured.
"You thought this would be an easy war?" Kael whispered.
Then his hand ignited with abyssal energy.
"I devour gods."
With a sharp crack, the Archon's body shattered into divine shards—like glass caught in a void.
A silence deeper than death followed.
Then the storm broke.
What followed was no longer battle—it was legend.
Archons charged from the heavens, blades screaming. Kael met them with magic that bent reality—void spears, shadow rifts, tendrils of anti-light that crushed divine shields.
Every clash of sword and spell tore through the city, shattering towers, splitting streets, igniting the skies.
Kael danced through them, laughing like a devil king amidst angels, hurling their broken forms back toward the heavens.
But even gods learn.
And then Eryndor stepped forward.
Unlike the others, he did not descend with fury. He walked, calmly, through the flames and ruin, his spear gleaming with strange darklight. His aura was not holy—but balanced. Shadow and starlight twined together like serpents around his form.
He halted a few paces from Kael.
"You are not like the others," he said.
Kael's eyes gleamed. "And yet you still stand in my way."
"I do not fear you," Eryndor replied, his voice carrying an ancient weight. "I fear what follows you. The chaos your rise invites. The unraveling of all things."
Kael smiled. "You fear the truth. That your gods are not saviors… only rulers terrified of being dethroned."
No words followed.
Their battle began.
It was a duel unlike any Solmar had witnessed.
Eryndor's spear struck with a dancer's grace and a serpent's venom—every movement refined by centuries of war. Kael's magic tore the earth asunder, shadow wings unfurling behind him as he moved with impossible speed.
They clashed atop rooftops, in midair, through collapsing towers.
Eryndor's strikes pushed Kael back.
Kael's counters forced Eryndor into defense.
Magic and divinity collided, each blow bending the world. Reality shimmered. Time hiccuped. And through it all, Kael laughed—not in mockery, but in joy.
"Finally," he breathed, parrying a blinding strike. "A fight worth my time."
As dawn neared, both warriors stood bloodied—not in body, but in spirit.
Kael's robes were torn, shadows flickering erratically. Eryndor's armor cracked, his breath labored.
The remaining Archons formed a perimeter, rallying behind their champion.
But Kael… was still smiling.
"Let them come," he whispered, eyes aglow with that dark, unrelenting fire. "I'll send them back to their stars. Piece by piece."
Above, the heavens stirred.
The war had only begun.
And Kael would show them what hell truly looked like.
To be continued…