The battlefield was pure collapse.
Knull was losing.
The clash had gone from symphonic chaos to one-sided slaughter. The Infernal Crown no longer laughed. He no longer taunted. His grin had faded—not out of boredom, but focus. Precision. Purpose.
He was a storm that stopped playing with its prey.
Knull swung his living blade again—it howled, a final cry of rebellion—but the demon batted it aside with a downward arc of one hammer. Another slammed into Knull's ribs. A third cracked against his spine. The fourth crushed his knee.
The god dropped.
Black ichor oozed freely from his mouth. Wings shattered. Tendrils curled inwards, convulsing.
Then—fingers wrapped around his throat.
The Infernal Crown lifted Knull effortlessly, his six vertical eyes burning not with rage now, but dead calm.
No smile. No malice. Just absolute, clinical dominance.
His face—twisted and double-featured—was suddenly terrifyingly neutral. Lips thin. Eyes half-lidded with contempt. Jaw tight.
He whispered:
"Did I ever tell you the definition of insanity?"
Knull tried to speak—but the grip tightened.
Crunch.
The world shook. Knull's body imploded, unraveling into black mist and fragments of his weapon.
Gone.
Silence followed. A silence that screamed.
---
The Infernal Crown turned. His wings retracted. Blood still dripped from his four hammers as he approached Kaleus, who still clutched his bleeding chest, struggling to stay conscious.
"My job is done here," the demon said flatly, "and your sacrifice shall be taken."
Before Kaleus could reply—his left arm burst into flames. His eye followed, seared away by infernal magic. He gasped but did not scream.
The Infernal Crown finally cracked a grin again. "I had fun," he said. "Hope for more."
And with that—he vanished.
Kaleus remained still, panting, one hand over the void of his missing eye. Blood trailed down his chin.
"Crazy-ass demon," he muttered with a weak smirk. "Glad it's over."
But it wasn't.
The earth trembled. The sky above the shattered domain began to ripple.
The Domain was collapsing.
Kaleus's body screamed in protest, but he pushed what remained of his power into his legs and leapt. Air screamed past him as he soared upward, into the quaking sky.
Far in the distance, he spotted a limp body—Vorun.
Kaleus gritted his teeth and surged forward, catching Vorun by the arm just as chunks of reality began to fall upward into the void.
He held him close.
And then—the sky exploded.
Brilliant orange and white light blasted through the heavens. Chunks of domain-stone and etheric fragments flew outward as shockwaves pulsed down from the heavens. It wasn't just an explosion—it was reality being undone.
Then—
Stillness.
The night sky returned.
Stars glowed like silver dust. The moon hung heavy and full. A cool breeze swept through the quiet ruins.
And down below—
A child pointed.
"Mommy, look up! Fireworks!"
People gathered near the ruined estate.
Civilians. Soldiers. All staring up in awe.
And from that broken sky—Kaleus descended.
Tattered cloak whipping behind him, left arm gone, left eye darkened. He cradled Vorun like he weighed nothing.
He landed near the shattered estate, laying Vorun gently on the earth.
With one shaking hand, he pulled out a communicator.
"Draven... It's over."
---
Elsewhere, within Draven's personal pocket dimension—a space of soft starlight, warmth, and suspended serenity—he stood among his siblings, tension thick in the air. Maids, butlers, even the family pets waited in still silence. Vorun's wife clutched her shawl tightly, trembling.
Then the device in Draven's hand lit up. The message came through.
Draven closed his eyes. Nodded.
"Understood," he said quietly.
He looked to everyone.
"It's safe now. Father beat it."
Relief surged through the group like a breath held too long. Vorun's wife staggered, knees buckling—Draven caught her gently before she collapsed.
"It's alright," he said. "It's over."
He stood, raising his hand.
"Maids, butlers—you're heading to Estate Alpha."
The air shimmered. They vanished.
Draven turned to his siblings and Vorun's wife.
"Now we go."
He opened a gate. They stepped through.
---
They arrived.
And the joy died in their throats.
Kaleus stood barely upright, leaning against a shattered pillar. His left arm was gone, his left eye a black hollow.
Draven's expression shifted to rage in an instant.
"You didn't... You didn't summon him, did you?!"
Kaleus raised a brow and shooed him off with his good hand like a child waving away a gnat.
"Shoo, shoo. I'm alive, aren't I?"
Draven fumed. "That's not the point, Dad! You're supposed to stay alive in one piece! You're like... like the irresponsible teenager now!"
The other siblings chuckled at the scene.
Kaleus just gave a smug, crooked grin. "Didn't think the old man still had it, huh?"
But the laughter stopped.
A sob broke through the night.
Vorun's wife had collapsed beside her husband. Her hands stroked his face, his hair. Tears flowed freely.
"Wake up... please... gods, Vorun, please..."
Everyone froze.
Kaleus's smile vanished. He turned toward them.
"He's in a coma."
Shock.
The word echoed through their minds like a death sentence.
A Monarch—a being of incomprehensible power, an empire's pillar—reduced to silence.
Draven clenched his jaw. "If word gets out... if anyone learns a Monarch is in a coma..."
"Invasions could happen overnight," Kaleus finished. "I know."
He looked at Vorun, then toward the horizon.
"By the time he wakes up... I'll be back."
He narrowed his gaze.
"As the former Monarch."
Inwardly, he giggled like a child caught stealing cake. Oh, I want to see Malrik's face.
Draven folded his arms, eyes narrowing.
"Is that really a good idea, father? In the state you're in?"
Kaleus looked down at the deep gashes bandaged across his ribs, the slight tremble in his fingers, and the faint outline of soot still clinging to his jawline.
He gave a mock shrug, grinning like a man too tired to care.
"Please. I've been worse. Remember that time I got impaled by a mountain? This is basically a spa day."
Draven didn't smile.
He stepped forward, glancing once at Vorun's unconscious body resting beneath a shifting barrier of arcane threads. The Monarch looked peaceful now—almost... human.
"What was possessing him?"
Kaleus went quiet. So quiet the night air felt heavier.
He stared into the darkness where the stars refused to shine. For a moment, his usual sarcasm vanished.
Finally, he spoke.
"Some god," he muttered. "Or something that wants to be one. It wasn't from here. And it sure as hell didn't belong here."
Draven drew in a sharp breath. A droplet of sweat rolled down his temple.
He tried to steady his voice. "Is it dead?"
Kaleus didn't answer immediately.
He looked at his hand, flexing his fingers like he still felt something crawling beneath the skin.
His voice was softer now. Strained.
"I don't know."
Everyone froze.
He continued, "I didn't fight it to the end. It left... or got ripped out. But one thing's for sure."
Kaleus looked directly at Draven, eyes like molten coals under dying embers.
"I didn't hear it scream. I didn't hear it speak. Not a sound. Not after the Infernal Crown pulled it out."
That silence lingered too long.
Then Kaleus turned, his expression sharp once more.
"Stay vigilant. All of you. That wasn't the last we've seen of it."
The wind picked up slightly, brushing through the tall blackgrass that circled the crater like cautious witnesses.
Draven exhaled slowly, watching his father's eyes still linger on the horizon, storm-touched and unblinking.
"…You're really stepping out of retirement?" he asked, his voice low but tinged with disbelief.
Kaleus didn't even pause.
"Absolutely," he said, as if the thought had been carved into him long ago.
He winced slightly, placing a hand on his ribs as he straightened up. "Tomorrow is the Ascendant Rising Tournament, is it not?"
Draven gave a reluctant nod. "Yeah. It is."
Kaleus grinned—wide, weathered, unbothered by the pain rippling beneath his skin.
"Then it's my absolute duty," he said, puffing his chest with all the pride of a man half his age. "Wouldn't be right for a legend to stay asleep while the world forgets how loud thunder can be."
Draven stared at him, unimpressed.
In his head, he groaned.
"Why does it feel like he just wants to show his rival he's back...?"
He scratched his head, a sigh leaving his lips like smoke.
"Fine. Let's leave this place. We've stayed too long anyway."
He raised his hand, and a soft pulse of azure light circled his fingers. A portal tore open like silk unraveling in reverse—its center revealing the shimmering silhouette of the capital.
Draven stepped forward and offered his father a shoulder.
Kaleus, despite his bravado, leaned into it with a tired grunt.
All vanished into the light, the portal closing behind them like the final blink of a watchful eye.
Above them, the night sky shimmered with stars—untouched by the fire, gods, or wrath that had unfolded below. Quiet. Enduring.
And as the last breeze whispered through the grass…
The long, haunted night… ended.