The stars whispered of doom.
Across the void, the Writ of Unmaking tore through dimensions — a glistening spear of absolute judgment, forged by beings who had watched empires crumble like dust.
It did not fly.
It rewrote the air before it, erasing all distance between itself and its prey.
Its sole purpose: the annihilation of Kael.
At the Black Spire
Kael sat upon the Obsidian Throne, his expression carved from stone, sensing the disturbance long before it breached his realm.
His generals, ministers, and court sorcerers bustled below him, drunk on the recent victory over the First Manifestation, unaware of the death-stroke screaming toward them from beyond creation itself.
Only a few sensed it:
Selene, whose crimson eye flickered with tension.
Elyndra, whose prayers stumbled on her lips.
Seraphina, whose instincts as a ruler screamed danger.
Kael opened his eyes slowly.
"All of you," he spoke, voice calm but absolute.
"Kneel."
Confused, the court obeyed.
Kael stood.
Above the Black Spire, the sky cracked open — a thin wound in the fabric of reality itself.
From that fissure descended the Writ.
A spear of burning glyphs, each letter a curse strong enough to shatter continents.
The sun itself dimmed in its presence.
Selene drew her blade in instinct.
Elyndra summoned shields of golden light.
Seraphina raised her hand, calling upon the Imperial Wards.
All of it was useless.
The Writ ignored them — it sought only Kael.
Kael stepped forward, down the obsidian steps, each footfall a boom of iron against iron.
He raised no weapon.
He called no spell.
Instead, he reached out his hand — a silent gesture of defiance.
The Writ responded.
It howled, a psychic scream that shattered the minds of weaker sorcerers and nobles nearby.
It grew larger, faster, a comet of divine hate hurtling toward Kael's heart.
Selene screamed.
Elyndra cried out.
Seraphina shouted his name.
But Kael remained immovable.
As the Writ collided with him — the world ended.
A Moment Outside of Time
Kael stood in the void.
The Writ, hovering before him, pulsed with malevolence.
And then — it spoke.
In a thousand voices layered atop one another, a choir of beings who had long since abandoned mercy.
"You are an anomaly. A mistake. An abomination.
You defy the ordained flow. You infect the future.
We, the Arbiters, decree your erasure.
Submit. Die. Fade."
Kael looked at the Writ, unblinking.
Then he laughed.
Not a mad laugh.
Not a desperate one.
A cold, measured, triumphant laugh.
"You send words," Kael said, voice slicing the void.
"Words are the weapons of the weak."
He clenched his hand into a fist.
The void trembled.
"You forgot one thing," he whispered.
"I am no longer bound by your reality."
And with a surge of will so pure, so overwhelming, Kael seized the Writ.
The spear screamed, struggling, releasing waves of annihilation — but Kael's fingers closed around its shaft.
Glyphs burned into his flesh.
Realities collapsed and reformed.
A hundred Kaels died in parallel universes.
But the true Kael remained.
Slowly, methodically, Kael began to unmake the Writ itself.
He read its glyphs — absorbing the divine laws embedded in its core.
He rewrote each one — replacing decrees of death with edicts of his own making.
Where it screamed "ERASE," he inscribed "DOMINATE."
Where it demanded "SUBMIT," he carved "ASCEND."
Where it decreed "END," he thundered "RULE."
The Writ convulsed, cracks spidering along its luminous surface.
The Arbiters Beyond, watching from their sanctums, gasped in horror.
"This cannot be," one murmured.
"He is... rewriting the Writ itself?" another stammered.
"But that's impossible!"
And yet — it was happening.
Because Kael was no longer merely mortal.
He was becoming something new.
With a final roar of defiance, Kael wrenched the Writ apart.
The explosion of divine energy vaporized clouds a thousand leagues wide.
Mountains crumbled.
Oceans roared.
But within that destruction, Kael forged a new weapon.
From the ashes of the Writ, he shaped the Scepter of Dominion — a black-and-gold staff crowned with burning runes, each rune a command over existence itself.
He held it aloft.
Reality shuddered — not in resistance, but in recognition.
The Higher Laws bent toward him, cautious, curious.
Kael lowered the Scepter and turned back toward his Black Spire, his silhouette framed by the dying echoes of the battle.
Return to the Black Spire
The court was in chaos.
Many had fled.
Some lay unconscious, minds shattered by the Writ's proximity.
Only a core remained — Selene, Elyndra, Seraphina, and a handful of the strongest.
Kael strode into the hall, his presence heavier, denser.
Selene fell to one knee, bowing her head.
Elyndra wept openly, clutching the hem of his robe.
Seraphina knelt with a grace reserved for queens offering their very souls.
Kael raised the Scepter high.
"Witness."
His voice rang across the throne hall.
"I have faced the judgment of the Higher Realms," he declared, "and I have broken it."
"You serve not a king. Not an emperor.
You serve the Will that defines existence."
The survivors bowed deeper, chests pressing against the cold marble floor.
"Prepare the Ascension Rites," Kael ordered.
"We march not against nations.
We march against fate itself."
The Black Spire thundered with the cheers of the faithful.
Meanwhile — The Arbiters Beyond
Panic spread among the High Arbiters like wildfire.
In their crystalline sanctums, they convened.
A council of beings who had long forgotten fear.
And yet, fear now clutched them.
"He destroyed the Writ," one whispered.
"He rewrote the Decrees."
"Such a thing has never been done..."
One, cloaked in the skins of dead gods, spoke with trembling lips.
"If we allow him to grow further, even the Realms Above will fall."
An elder Arbiter, blind and crowned with shattered halos, gave a single, solemn command:
"Summon the Hierarchs.
Declare the Highest Accord.
Prepare for Total Annihilation."
At the Edge of the Mortal World
Kael stood atop the balcony of the Black Spire, staring into the roiling heavens.
Selene approached, hesitating only slightly before speaking.
"My lord," she said quietly, "the Higher Realms will not sit idle."
"I know," Kael replied, his eyes like twin burning voids.
"They will send more. Stronger. Desperate."
He smiled, a predator's smile.
"Let them."
Selene bowed low, heart pounding with a terrible, exhilarating anticipation.
"What are your orders?" she asked.
Kael turned, the Scepter of Dominion crackling in his hand.
"Summon the Ninefold Hosts," he said. "Recall every general, every sorcerer, every blade sworn to my banner."
"We ride for the Realms Beyond."
To be continued…