The Riftlands erupted into chaos.
Zenin's figure loomed in the skies, his eyes burning with cruel delight. With a wave of his hand, he unsheathed a weapon that made even the strongest emperors shiver.
It was the Uri Sword, forged from blue lightning, a heavenly relic once belonging to the Mother Fairy herself—an absolute weapon capable of killing anyone.
Zenin's laughter cracked across the battlefield.
"First Brother," he sneered, his voice dripping venom, "I'll send your son to join you where he belongs. Zenon's bloodline ends here!"
With a flick, the heavenly sword hurled through the void toward Azren.
But just as the blade was about to pierce him, the dragons roared. The seal on Azren's chest flared, and his dragons twisted space itself, shifting Azren's body away from the fatal strike.
The clash resounded like thunder.
Across the Riftlands, the gathered emperors of every faction activated their clan formations. Armies of light and shadow collided, the earth tearing apart under their fury. For the first time in a thousand years, the Riftlands became a stage of war so grand that even the heavens seemed to bleed.
But once again, the Tred Clan pressed forward with overwhelming might.
Zenin laughed, his voice echoing like a god of death.
"How delightful! This chaos, this bloodshed—how satisfying it is!"
The ground trembled.
Both allies and enemies, emperors of unmatched prestige, fell to their knees, drained from endless clashes. Killing an emperor was no small matter; the price was always mountains of corpses.
Zenin raised a hand, his expression darkening.
"Fun as this is… I have other matters to attend to. Let's end this in one stroke."
He condensed his dark essentia into a colossal sphere, an abyss of destruction that could wipe out every opposing emperor in a single breath. The world screamed under its pressure.
But then—
A surge of chaotic dark essentia erupted. It wasn't Zenin's. It cut straight through his destructive sphere, scattering its power to nothingness.
All eyes turned.
From the heart of the battlefield, Azren rose. But he was no longer the same boy they knew. His aura had twisted into something monstrous. Black flames licked his body, his once-golden eyes now drowned in pitch black, his hair and robes tainted with the chaos he once feared to unleash.
A deathly aura swept the Riftlands like an ocean.
Azren's voice thundered, raw and unyielding:
"Zenin! Until I draw my last breath, you will never touch the people of Arka. I don't care about fate, I don't care about bloodlines. If becoming a demon is the only way to protect them—then so be it!"
The dragons roared, their shadows towering behind him as Azren's chaotic power spiraled out of control.
Zenin's eyes narrowed. "So you've chosen death."
The two clashed.
Light and shadow, chaos and darkness. Their collision was so violent that the Riftlands themselves cracked apart, the ground shattering as entire valleys collapsed. Every strike between them sent waves of destruction that even emperors below couldn't endure.
Asthough herself had to retreat, her expression grim. Even she knew: if one stray attack from above touched her directly, she would need years of retreat to recover.
The sky became a battlefield of gods, and the world trembled at the duel of two demons.
Everyone on the battlefield could only pray.
Pray that this nightmare would end.
Above the Riftlands, Azren's every slash clashed violently with Zenin's. The two forces carved valleys into the earth with each strike, as though the heavens themselves were being split apart.
Zenin sneered, his voice dripping with contempt.
"Brat… is this the maximum of your power?"
Azren's breath was ragged, his body trembling, but his eyes did not falter.
"Oh, you want more?" His voice thundered. "Then take this!"
The dragon seal exploded.
From his body surged a monstrous dragon, forged from the fusion of wind, water, and earth. Its three heads roared in unison, their combined might overwhelming the very skies. Chaotic essentia tore apart Zenin's darkness, and the beast lunged.
The impact was devastating. Zenin's body was hurled back, his chest ripped open as blood gushed out. For the first time, the mighty clan head staggered, his body barely holding together.
But Azren's face twisted in agony. His lips split blood, his body collapsing as his dark chaotic essentia was completely drained. His strength nullified, he plummeted into the valley below.
Zenin wiped the blood from his lips, his wicked smile returning.
"Hah… impressive. But today, you will still die."
He raised the Uri Sword, its blue lightning humming with murderous intent.
The blade descended—
But in a flash of white light, Asthough appeared.
The strike tore into her instead, blood spraying as she collapsed beside Azren. Her face was pale, but her eyes glowed with unyielding tenderness as she touched his cheek.
Her lips curved into a faint smile, even as her life ebbed away.
"Azren… do you remember? We first met here, in the Riftlands… and now, our last meeting is also here. How cruelly fate toys with us."
Her eyes softened, filled with both sorrow and pride.
"For me, you are more than anything. I could sacrifice this entire continent… just for you. But you must promise me—don't make foolish decisions. Don't walk blindly into pain as I once did."
Her breathing grew heavy, her body turning faint, dissolving into white light. She forced her final words into his ears.
"Protect my daughter… that is my last wish."
And with those final words, Asthough's body dissolved into pure white essentia, scattering into the skies like starlight—her existence erased.
Azren's eyes widened. His grief tore the heavens apart.
A monstrous explosion of dark chaotic essentia burst from his body, flooding the Riftlands in destructive waves. The blast was so violent that no one dared step close. Within that storm, Azren's figure vanished, swallowed by the chaos.
Zenin himself, gravely wounded, retreated into the shadows to recover, his face twisted in fury.
The battlefield fell silent. The war ended.
---
Four Years Later…
Life City was rebuilt, but it bore scars too deep to heal.
Max ascended as the new Life Emperor, his aura steady and dignified. Grey had stepped into the emperor realm as well, standing beside his brother as the city's new shield. Erdi returned to teaching, guiding new disciples, while Commander Lu's icy power carried him into emperorhood.
But the wounds of the past remained.
Regia, her spiritual strength shattered, lay in deep slumber. Aaya tended to her tirelessly, her voice firm with authority that reminded all of Asthough herself. Yet, only a handful knew the truth—that Aaya was indeed Asthough's daughter.
The people accepted Max as their emperor. The empire stood tall once more.
But atop a lonely mountain, where no eyes could see, Aaya sat alone. Tears streamed down her face as her cries echoed into the wind.
"You reckless idiot…" she sobbed. "How could you die before me? I am the strongest… it should have been me. You told me you would return… that you'd come back after settling everything…"
Her voice cracked, her body trembling.
"And now… you leave me waiting in vain…"
Her cries drowned in the silence of the mountains.
And thus ended Part One of Arka: Rise of the Hidden Realm.