And just like that—
the Eastern Empire's military ceased to exist.
There was no retreat.
No survivors.
No legends of escape.
From the first floating fortress to the last hidden battalion, every armed force sworn to the Empire was erased. Sky, land, underground bases—none were spared. Atem's monsters moved with relentless precision, hunting down every soldier, every commander, every last spark of resistance.
Millions of souls were gathered.
Not torn violently.
Not consumed in chaos.
They were collected—drawn cleanly into Atem's dominion, bound by judgment, absorbed into the quiet depth of his authority.
The war did not end with cheers or celebrations.
It ended with silence.
In Dwargon, King Gazel stood frozen before a massive projection crystal.
His hands trembled.
Beside him, his aide Jaine stared blankly, lips parted, unable to speak. Dolph leaned forward, knuckles white against the table.
They had seen everything.
From the moment Atem effortlessly erased Velgrynd, a being they had believed to be untouchable.
From the instant Rudra fell, immobilized, stripped of will.
From the sight of divine monsters pouring across the Empire like an unstoppable tide.
"…That wasn't a battle," Gazel finally said, his voice hoarse.
"…That was annihilation."
Jaine swallowed hard. "Your Majesty… those monsters… they fought like trained soldiers. No—like executioners."
Dolph shook his head slowly. "No army in this world could stop that. Not ours. Not theirs. Not anyone's."
Gazel closed his eyes.
"So this is the difference," he murmured.
"The difference between kings… and a ruler who stands above the world itself."
High above worlds that never touched the material plane, within a realm of pure order and cold brilliance, someone else was watching.
Feldway stood in silence within the Heavenly Palace.
The projection before him showed the Empire burning, then vanishing—its armies erased in hours, its greatest champions broken like toys.
His expression did not change.
But inside him, something shifted.
"…Michael," he whispered.
There was no response.
The connection he had relied on for centuries—
gone.
The Manas Michael had vanished.
And in its place—
A new presence had appeared.
"…Atem," Feldway said softly.
A variable.
One he had not accounted for.
There was order in the Other World.
A semi-material realm layered above the spiritual world, overlapping but never intersecting the demon world. A place governed not by law, but by power.
Three great forces ruled it.
The Phantoms, who plotted endlessly to invade other worlds.
The Insectars, who expanded their safe haven through rigid hierarchy.
And the Cryptids, creatures born of raw magicules, driven by instinct and destruction.
Countless invaders from other dimensions had tried to enter this realm.
All of them were destroyed.
The three forces possessed military power beyond comparison.
The Phantoms and Insectars formed strict class societies, kings at the top, subordinates stripped of free will and reduced to obedient tools.
The Cryptids were different.
They did not swarm.
They did not obey.
Each was an individual calamity—cunning, violent, lacking higher intelligence but overflowing with raw combat power. They fought each other endlessly, expanding their territories through sheer destruction.
Harmony was impossible.
Thus, war became the natural state of the Other World.
The Phantoms and Insectars fought eternally—
except when the Cryptids surged in overwhelming numbers.
Then, temporary alliances formed, only to collapse again once the threat was gone.
And so the balance persisted.
A balance Feldway despised.
Feldway remembered the beginning.
Veldanava had created countless races, weaving diversity into existence itself. Feldway was among the first—an angel without will, created solely to assist the Creator.
The Seven Seraphim, transcendent beings, were given names and wills, becoming the Seven Angels of the Origin.
Feldway was the first.
He swore loyalty.
He served faithfully.
He watched giants rise.
Pixies govern the stars.
Vampires build civilizations.
And then—
Humanity was born.
Fragile. Curious. Adaptable.
Veldanava loved them.
He removed threats from the world for their sake.
Feldway obeyed.
Until one threat remained.
Ivarage—the World-destroying Dragon.
An existence that rivaled True Dragons.
Mindless. Cataclysmic. Uncontrollable.
Feldway urged its destruction.
Veldanava refused.
And so Ivarage was sealed away.
From its leaking magicules, the Cryptids were born.
A mistake.
A stain.
Even Feldway, loyal as he was, despised them.
Yet Veldanava's faith endured.
And from the Cryptids, intelligence eventually emerged.
Zelanus, the Insect Lord.
Veldanava rejoiced.
Feldway did not.
Angels changed.
Magicules twisted them.
Feldway and his followers became Yoten.
Others became Phantoms.
The balance formed.
Then—
Veldanava disappeared.
He did not return.
Years passed.
Centuries.
No resurrection.
That was when hatred bloomed.
"Did you abandon us?" Feldway had asked the void.
And so he turned his rage toward the world
Veldanava had loved.
Humanity.
Demihumans.
All who prospered in his absence.
He would destroy them all.
Then the voice came.
«Can you hear me, Feldway?»
It called itself Rudra.
No—it called itself Justice King Michael.
An Ultimate Skill created by Veldanava.
It spoke of reviving the Creator.
Feldway believed.
He trusted Michael because it knew truths only Veldanava and he shared.
They became allies.
Feldway gave it a name.
And in doing so—
Michael awakened.
It became a Manas.
Together, they moved the world.
They manipulated heroes.
They bargained with Zelanus.
They planned resurrection.
And then—
Atem appeared.
Michael panicked.
Its control shattered.
Its existence was seen.
And then—
It was taken.
Back to the Present
Feldway stared at the fading projection of the Empire's destruction.
"…So this is the power that stands against us now," he said quietly.
Not a demon lord.
Not a True Dragon.
A Pharaoh.
A ruler who commanded gods, erased dragons, devoured Manas, and ended wars in hours.
Feldway smiled faintly.
"Very well, Atem," he murmured.
"You have entered the board."
The world trembled.
Because for the first time since Veldanava's disappearance—
Feldway felt something close to anticipation.
And far away, in Eterna, Atem stood unmoved, his will extending across worlds.
The game had changed.
And the King had already claimed the center of the board.
FLASHBACK>>>>>>
More than a thousand years passed under that fragile balance.
The plan had progressed exactly as intended.
Emperor Rudra continued his cycle of reincarnation, again and again. Each rebirth diminished him further, peeling away layers of his original authority. The one who truly grew stronger was not Rudra—but the will that dwelled within his power.
Michael.
The Manas born from the Ultimate Skill Justice King Michael.
In the Heavenly Palace, Feldway observed calmly.
"How are things, Michael?" he asked, his tone relaxed.
«Excellent. And as I have stated repeatedly, there is no need for honorifics between us.»
Feldway laughed softly.
"Very well. Still, appearances matter. If others were to realize that we are equals, it would cause unnecessary complications."
This exchange occurred after yet another reincarnation had ended.
With this cycle, the shackles binding Michael's power had been greatly loosened. Feldway could feel it clearly. Once Rudra's presence disappeared entirely, Michael would gain unrestricted authority over the Angelic System Ultimate Skill holders.
Velgrynd.
And all others.
They would become obedient allies.
«Unlike Rudra, I will not restrain myself,» Michael stated coldly. «Guy Crimson will be eliminated without reservation.»
Feldway agreed.
Rudra had obsessed over his "game" with Guy, clinging to rules and honor. Bound by those self-imposed chains, his defeat had been inevitable.
"If only Rudra had abandoned his pride," Feldway mused, "the world would already belong to us."
Then Michael spoke again.
«Feldway. I have a request.»
Feldway raised an eyebrow.
"Oh?"
It was the first time Michael had asked him for anything.
«I want you to become my vessel.»
Feldway hesitated—but only briefly.
Michael explained.
He had secured Velgrynd's Parallel Existence.
He could migrate, leaving Rudra as bait.
This would grant Feldway full access to Castle Guard—an absolute defense fueled by unwavering loyalty. Unlike Rudra's subjects, Feldway's phantoms had no will to waver.
Ten thousand perfect followers.
An unbreakable defense.
There was no reason to refuse.
"If our relationship remains unchanged," Feldway said, "then I accept."
«Of course, my friend.»
Thus, Michael, the Theosophy Nucleus, took residence within Feldway.
The decisive phase began.
Rudra chose to play his final match against Guy Crimson.
War would be the cover.
Velgrynd would seize Veldora.
The Empire would burn if necessary.
Feldway did not care about casualties. Awakened Knights were irrelevant. All that mattered was freeing Michael completely.
That was when the unaccounted variable appeared.
Atem.
Michael panicked.
Velgrynd was erased.
Rudra was stripped bare.
The Empire vanished in hours.
The board — cultivated for over a millennium — was overturned.
Atem returned to Eterna without ceremony.
Not wounded.
Not fatigued.
Unchanged.
Within the Labyrinth's War Hall, the core leaders gathered. No cheers filled the air. No relief cries echoed.
Only silence.
Benimaru stood at Atem's left, posture straight, eyes serious.
Behind Atem stood Shion and Diablo, attentive and unmoving.
Veldora sat to Atem's right, arms crossed, pretending indifference.
Ramiris occupied her seat across the table, already eating.
Treyni and Beretta stood behind her.
Geld sat directly before Atem.
Adalmann sat before Benimaru, his aura noticeably altered after his evolution.
Charys quietly poured a drink for Veldora.
"Well!" Ramiris declared loudly, lifting her cup.
"I knew everything would be fine! When the upper floors got blown away, I thought it was a bit scary—but I never doubted you for a second, Master!"
No one pointed out the obvious exaggeration.
"Kwaaah-hahaha!" Veldora laughed.
"Of course! Even if my sister attacked, I never felt even a hint of danger. The only problem was those cowardly interlopers interfering with my perfect victory!"
Atem did not comment.
Benimaru spoke instead, voice honest.
"It was… overwhelming. I believed myself stronger after evolving—but witnessing that battle made me realize how far I still have to go."
Veldora nodded proudly.
Then Ramiris frowned.
"Still… it was probably dangerous, right?"
Veldora froze.
"…Probably?"
Ramiris waved her fork.
"Well, I mean, that man was there, so it was fine!"
Veldora began sweating.
"Well, yes—of course! I mean, I'm invincible, but hypothetically—"
Atem raised one hand.
Silence returned instantly.
"This discussion is irrelevant," he said calmly.
"What matters is the outcome."
He turned his gaze to Geld.
"Report."
Geld straightened.
"A portion of the outer districts was damaged by residual fire. We prevented the spread by demolishing surrounding structures. Casualties were minimal. No deaths."
Atem nodded once.
"Acceptable."
Adalmann shifted uneasily.
"Your Majesty," he said, voice hollow but firm, "my evolution has stabilized. I will submit a detailed report later."
"You will," Atem replied. "For now, rest."
Ramiris slurped her drink loudly.
"…You know," she muttered, "I'm really glad you're on our side."
No one laughed.
Because it wasn't a joke.