From their place high above the battlefield, the five Empyreans seemed more like forces of nature than people. One pounded the golden dome with pure force, each blow shaking the air. Another commanded the elements, flinging ice, fire, and earth at Arthur's strange shield.
A third Empyrean, hidden in a swirl of leaves and flowers, twisted life itself into a weapon. Thorny vines ripped at the dome, trying to strangle it. Roots wormed under the surface, trying to break it from below.
The fourth Empyrean raged with fury. He summoned monstrous creatures, twisted versions of animals from nightmares, to tear and claw at the golden barrier. Their roars were a terrifying chorus against the rumble of the storm.
The last Empyrean, the weakest, was a magic circle maker. He drew glowing symbols in the air, and these circles opened up rifts in space. Weak, ghostly creatures stumbled out of the rifts, but they were no match for the golden dome. They clawed and bit uselessly before fading away.
But for all their power and anger, the shield held. Arthur's defiance, his strange, impossible existence, stood strong against their combined might. Time seemed to stretch out — minutes or hours, it didn't matter. The battle raged, a clash of wills between the outsiders and this defiant man.
Finally, with angry roars, the assault ended. The golden dome flickered...and was gone, as if it had never existed. In its place, a field of flowers bloomed. The vibrant colors looked so out of place amidst the ruins, a defiant splash of life created from Arthur's golden power.
A single corpse lay in the flowers. Beside it stood Arthur Netherborne. Black lightning crackled around him, the echo of his power, of his unyielding will. He didn't look at the dead Empyrean. His gaze was fixed on the heavens, on the five figures hovering above. Even from this distance, their rage was a dark storm cloud of anger and ancient fury.
Lilo, his return like a clap of thunder echoing Arthur's own defiance, landed beside his master. The dragon glowed with power, his scales bright with leftover golden magic. It was a powerful display, less a challenge and more a statement of absolute loyalty.
The Empyrean of Thiria, his voice booming down from the sky, broke the silence. "Outsider! How dare you kill one of our own? You will pay for this!"
Arthur slowly lifted his gaze to meet the five figures. He didn't look afraid, just coldly dismissive. "Ants don't get explanations," his voice rumbled, loud as the fall of empires, the defiance of gods. "If any of you want to join your fallen ally, come down."
A voice filled with the rustle of leaves and the whispers of the wind hissed from the Empyrean of Janea, the one who wielded the power of nature itself. "Outsider, do you grasp the consequence of your actions?" Her voice wasn't fury, but an icy promise of retribution. "The nations of this world, the powers that maintain balance, now stand united against you. Your defiance of the natural order, your… declarations echoing through the cosmos... you have branded yourself a threat to us all."
Arthur's laughter echoed across the devastated landscape, a harsh, bitter sound laden with contempt. "Cowardice dressed up as righteous indignation," he mocked. "The truth is, you are not guardians of this world, but parasites clinging to it. Rats hiding in the shadows, content with your stolen powers."
The Empyreans seethed. It was the Empyrean of Thiria, the master of beasts, who lunged – not with a declaration of battle, but driven by a primal, all-consuming rage. His form blurred, shifting...and something monstrous took his place. The fusion of man and his summoned beasts, it was a towering abomination of claws, teeth, and raw aggression. It thundered towards Arthur, a promise of bloody, brutal retribution.
But Arthur didn't draw his swords. He didn't unleash his lightning. He simply… grinned. A grin that held not a flicker of fear, but a terrifying, absolute certainty. And then, the world shook.
Arthur's spiritual energy, a force that had pulsed and thrummed, erupted. It wasn't an attack, but a wave that sent the monstrous Empyrean tumbling back, shattering the earth beneath his feet. The other Empyreans were forced back, their vast powers momentarily overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of Arthur's will.
The storm itself seemed to bow to him, the heavens parting as Arthur rose, no longer bound by the rules of the world he found himself in. As he ascended, he gazed down at the Empyreans with a contempt that chilled their ancient hearts far more than any weapon of destruction could.
"I know the game you play," Arthur's voice boomed from the heavens. "The trap awaits in Yalen, the culmination of your fear and pathetic scheming. Very well. Prepare yourselves. Meet me there, and I will give you the battle you so desperately crave…" He paused, his smile a mocking twist. "...but first, a chance. A single, fleeting chance for sanity. Look upon your fallen brother, and understand: I am not like the pathetic fools you've faced before."
Fury boiled inside the Empyreans, held back only by the cold disdain Arthur looked down on them with. The Empyrean of Sourna, master of force, couldn't take it anymore. Energy blasted forth from him, not as a beam, but a crushing wave meant to destroy the outsider.
Arthur laughed. It was a laugh filled with the weight of a thousand battles, not just against petty kings but against the heavens themselves. Black lightning blasted from him, not to fight back, but to easily shatter the Empyrean's attack. He laughed even harder, mocking them.
"You're not my equals," Arthur boomed. "You never were. I don't fight thieves who steal worlds. I fight the gods of Devaheim themselves. I'll break their rule. I'll rally this world, and worlds beyond, and we'll bring back the natural order of life!"
The Empyreans shouted in protest, but the Empyrean of Janea cut them off. Her voice, usually like whispering forests, was sharp with desperation. "Netherborne," she spat, making his ancient family name into a curse, "Ragnar failed. You'll fail too. This war you want will destroy our world! You don't want to save the world, you want to destroy it. You're selfish, and will doom us all!"
Arthur's face hardened. A flicker of regret touched his eyes, then was gone, replaced by a hard resolve. This wasn't a conversation, or a plea. This was a clash of two completely different ideas. Arthur was defiance itself, and the Empyreans, even with all their power, were terrified of the future he was trying to build.
Arthur descended, no longer the distant judge but a man amidst his foes. His voice, though calmer, held no less weight. "The end is coming," he declared, a chilling statement of fact, not prophecy. "Even without my defiance, this world is fated to die a slow death. It's not the grand, glorious war you fear, but a silent, relentless decay."
He turned towards the Empyrean of Janea, the embodiment of life's vibrancy. "Can your forests survive the touch of Nameless?" he questioned, "The chill of Famine, where nothing grows, nothing lives? Can your precious 'balance' withstand the erosion of the Nothing that lurks at the edge of kingdoms?"
A ripple of unease passed through the Empyreans. They were powerful, ancient, but the very concepts Arthur invoked were anathema to their existence.
"This world withers," Arthur continued, his voice laced with growing urgency, "not in a cataclysm, but a gasp. You cling to your petty empires, blind to the rising tide of darkness. The Nameless, the whispers of oblivion... they will consume what is left, while your squabbles rage."
His gaze swept over them, a challenge etched on his weathered features. "I am a threat, yes. But I am also the only hope this world has left. My golden mana, born from realms beyond your comprehension, is anathema to the Nothing. I offer not peace, but survival… if you have the wisdom to see the true threat, instead of clinging to your dying illusions of control."
A dismissive murmur rose from the Empyreans. Survival, the basest instinct, outweighed Arthur's grim pronouncements of encroaching doom. Deals had been struck before. Surely, the powers in Devaheim would see reason when faced with the Nothing.
Arthur's laugh cut through their desperate whispers, an echo of harsh, bitter truths. "Strike a deal?" he spat, the concept so absurd it ignited a flicker of genuine rage in his eyes. "You think those…things residing in Devaheim are driven by reason? By a sense of fairness?"
His voice rose, echoing with the frustration of a man battling not just ignorance, but willful blindness. "They created the Nameless!" He declared. "Their hunger for worlds, for power beyond measure, twisted existence itself! It is their unquenchable thirst that birthed that creeping oblivion. They seek not balance, but an endless feast where you, your petty kingdoms…are devoured along with the rest!"
As if his words fell on deaf ears, there was no response. No gasps of shock or widened eyes, and it was then that Arthur realized these empyreans already had an inkling of the truth. He scoffed and turned away, preparing to leave.
"I wasted my breath on cowards. Meet me in Yalenia with your answer, where we will have our final fight. Either the seven families or myself will cease to exist after that."
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