Chapter 135: 135
The resurrected were in a state of absolute disbelief. Piecing together their fractured memories from seconds prior, they knew they had crossed the threshold of death. Yet, here they were, breathing. Had the Emperor personally pulled them back from the underworld?
Long live the Emperor, the thought bloomed simultaneously in thousands of minds, a fervent, fanatical devotion taking root.
They desperately wanted to scream their praises, to chant his name until their lungs burst. But even though the crushing pressure had been dismantled, their bodies refused to function normally. They were caught in a terrifying deadlock, trapped between the presence of the demon king in the sky and the radiant, overwhelming proximity of their own sovereign.
The Emperor fixed his gaze on Ruarc, his words falling slow and deliberate.
"The death of even a single citizen of Aureth leaves an unfillable void within me."
In a flash, his figure vanished from the spot.
"Whoa, hold on! You can’t hit me!! It’s against the rules!" Ruarc instantly threw his hands up in front of his face, his voice taking on a strangely theatrical, panicked pitch.
The Emperor materialized a mere inch from his nose, stopping dead in his tracks.
He studied the demon Emperor. Ruarc’s posture and tone screamed cowardice, but his eyes told a completely different story. Those brilliant golden irises remained entirely calm, projecting a steady, unfazed confidence as he stared directly back into the Emperor’s gaze.
"The rules?" The Emperor tilted his head, his irritation palpable. "You just slaughtered my people. Is that not a violation of your so-called rules?"
When Ruarc had first breached the barrier, The Emperor had hoped for a genuine, unrestricted clash. It seemed this war was going to be an incredibly tedious affair after all.
"Hey, I didn’t mean to kill them on purpose. Who told them to be so fragile?" Ruarc shrugged his shoulders casually, completely dropping the terrified act. "Besides, I’m not their friend. There’s zero reason for me to manually dial back my natural aura just to preserve weak lives. It’s the exact same standard for the demons back home."
Ruarc paused, straightening his collar as he collected himself. "Still, that doesn’t change the facts—you can’t lay a finger on me. I came here for a perfectly friendly, neighborly greeting. As Emperors, we aren’t permitted to participate in the game until the late-game phases unlock. And frankly, the restrictions are even harsher on your end. Until I launch a direct attack at your person, your hands are completely tied."
He laid it out as if explaining a basic mathematical formula.
"And this? This definitely wasn’t an attack." Ruarc leaned in slightly, muttering just loudly enough for the entire grounds to overhear: "Seriously, who told you to be so ridiculously strong?"
"A game?" The Emperor’s voice darkened, a dangerous resonance shaking the air. "You and Heaven dare call this a game? The literal lives of my people—a game?"
"Aiya, don’t blame me. Take it up with the floor design; it’s just the way the Tower structured it," Ruarc replied with a careless shrug.
"I made an absolute vow centuries ago," the Emperor said, his eyes drilling into Ruarc. "And I will see it through to the bitter end. I will tear Heaven down to its bedrock."
Internally, however, Valerian let out a silent, bitter sigh. After all these years, Heaven remained standing. And now, another one of these self-proclaimed ’players’ could stroll right into his kingdom, massacre his people, and the systemic laws bound his hands from retaliating. The Tower be absolutely damned
.
"Ahh, I remember when you first claimed the name Zenith," Ruarc mused, his tone suddenly conversational, almost nostalgic. "The historic day you vowed to destroy Heaven and stand above the stars. The very day you killed me. Man, my cheek still twinges when I think about those punches."
"Do you wish to die?"
"Not particularly. But a whole lot of people are scheduled to die anyway. Humans, demons—it doesn’t really matter to me. I can’t exactly make a grand entrance and leave a zero casualty count; it’s just not my style. We’ll be seeing each other around, Human Emperor Valerian Zenith."
Ruarc’s voice carried a distinct, teasing edge as he emphasized the full name. Offering a lazy, mock wave, his silhouette began to fade out of reality, dissolving like mist. Right before he vanished entirely, he spun his head toward the judges’ section, throwing a pointed look directly at Nox.
"Grand Chancellor," the Emperor commanded, instantly reappearing back within his royal pavilion.
"Sire."
Before the Emperor could issue specific counter-measures against Ruarc’s hidden ploys, space began to fracture across the entire academy grounds. Portals of varying dimensions tore open within the combat pit and throughout the spectator stands. In an instant, tide after tide of high-ranked monsters came rushing out of the voids, howling for blood.
"Take command of the faculty and the nobility. Secure the perimeter and protect my citizens."
Leaving those final words, the Emperor vanished once more, materializing seamlessly right beside Nox.
...
Zeke watched the entire theatrical display unfold, a profound sense of oddity settling into his mind. The Demon Emperor—Ruarc—was a far cry from what he had anticipated. The guy seemed genuinely terrified of Valerian, yet simultaneously entirely devoid of actual fear. He was supposed to be the ultimate antagonist of humanity, yet his attitude didn’t carry any real malice.
The whole dynamic was bizarre.
Especially that parting shot: "Who told you to be so ridiculously strong." It felt almost orchestrated, like Ruarc was intentionally hyping up the Emperor’s absolute might for the benefit of the watching civilians—a literal promotional match.
But the system rules governing the main storyline were ironclad. Which specific restriction was preventing a powerhouse like the Emperor from acting unless the enemy sovereign struck first? If that rule functioned the way it sounded, it meant the Demon Emperor could cause as much collateral havoc as he pleased, and Valerian could only legally retaliate if a strike was aimed directly at his head.
That heavily implied the Tower was actively trying to enforce a balance. And the system only ever forces a balance when one side possesses an utterly unfair advantage.
Could it be tied to Khan’s unnaturally boosted talent profile? Potentially, but Khan was supposed to be the protagonist—the target of the balance—not the Emperor.
Just how absurdly broken is The Emperor?
Zeke was violently yanked from his analytical musings as a portal tore open right in front of his face, spewing a jagged-fanged beast.
Ah, monsters. So this was what Ruarc meant by his "humans or demons must die" clause. But curiously... where were the actual demons?
"Are you just going to stand there like a statue? Or did the big bad dog scare you?" Elio taunted smoothly, his fist blurring forward to bury itself into a monster’s torso, leaving a gaping, hollow crater where its midsection used to be.
Zeke scanned the wider arena. The sheer density of the portals was staggering; beasts of every rank were pouring into the sectors.
He tilted his head back, his eyes locking onto the high balcony where Nox and the Emperor stood watching.
"Citizens of Aureth! The demonic host has launched a cowardly ambush on a day meant to honor our rising generation. Their craven sovereign has fled the field, leaving these mindless thralls behind to satisfy his thirst for blood!" The Emperor’s voice boomed across every inch of the territory. Along with the sound, a profoundly calming, majestic aura settled over the panicked masses, gently nudging their instincts toward combat.
The people found their trembling limbs steadying as they listened to the voice in the sky.
"But I stand before you to declare this: though the archaic laws prevent my direct intervention against these lesser creatures, I hold an absolute, unwavering certainty that we shall triumph with minimal loss of life! The only blood that shall saturate this soil today belongs to the invaders! Stand tall. This Emperor believes in your strength. Eradicate them all, and then—we feast!"
The moment the Emperor’s speech concluded, a sudden, scorching wave of raw power coursed through the veins of every human in the arena.
The weakest awakened present felt their attributes instantaneously double. Even more absurdly, the ordinary, unawakened civilians watched their perceptions sharpen to a razor’s edge, their physical limits forcefully elevated to the baseline of a standard B-rank combatant.
"Simultaneously buffing thousands of individuals," Nox remarked dryly, stroking his beard. "Tell me, what exactly are you trying to achieve here?"
"Old man, are you losing your faculties in your old age? I explicitly stated my goal: minimal bloodshed."
"You didn’t just dump raw power into their bodies, Valerian. You artificially hard-wired the tactical muscle memory required to actually utilize that power."
"Do you honestly expect civilians who have never held a blade to suddenly fight effectively against ravenous beasts just because they have higher stats?"
"You are fully aware this stretches the boundaries of the rules," Nox countered, his tone turning serious. "The parameters of the main storyline, the ancient protocols of the Tower... you are flexing your true conceptual weight in a world zone explicitly restricted to first-tier sainthood."
"Who gives a damn? Do the gods not pull far viler stunts when the mood strikes them?" The Emperor let out a dismissive scoff. "Do you honestly expect me to believe they’re going to sit on their hands this time? I simply made my move before they could orchestrate theirs. And besides, this doesn’t even constitute ten percent of my actual output. I know exactly how to skate around the Tower’s automated tribunals."
"Well, I suppose that much is true," Nox conceded, observing the battlefield below. "The potency of your blessing scales inversely; it’s significantly weaker the stronger the recipient is."
"Yeah, yeah. Now quiet down and let me watch my people kick some serious ass."
Nox stared at the sovereign for a long moment, slowly shaking his head in a mixture of amusement and exasperation.
