The arena trembled in silence.
Dark and Rykaou stood opposite each other, bodies scarred, breathing steady. The dust from their last exchange still floated between them like a thin fog that refused to fade.
Dark's cloak swayed faintly with the wind. His eyes, calm but sharp, studied the fighter before him.
Dark: You are strong, Rykaou. I like the way you fight. You remind me of someone I used to know—except they relied on divine, celestial power. You rely on yourself. On instinct. That's good. Keep it that way.
Rykaou grinned through split lips, blood streaking down his jaw.
Rykaou: That's... quite a compliment coming from you, Emperor Dark.
He took a breath, his tone softening.
Rykaou: Did you know I looked up to you? I read everything about you. The stories about how you descended into Hell itself... and fought every creature there.
He stepped forward slightly, eyes burning with respect more than pride.
Rykaou: The way you stopped the demon war that lasted years...
Dark's gaze lowered.
Dark: Astaroth. The Throne of Embers. The demons turned on their own master while he slept. That's why the bloodshed began.
Rykaou nodded slowly.
Rykaou: I read that part... but how did you survive? Against him?
Dark's expression shifted. A faint smile crossed his lips, but it wasn't joy.
Dark: I didn't. He wasn't even trying. Compared to him, I was nothing.
Rykaou blinked.
Dark: I just kept standing.
Rykaou's smile returned, wider this time.
Rykaou: That's exactly why you're a legend. You never give up. You just keep walking through it.
Dark chuckled under his breath, but it carried a tired edge—like a sound pulled from old memories.
Rykaou tilted his head.
Rykaou: Want to continue? Or stop here?
Dark: Whatever you want.
Rykaou rolled his shoulders, the tension melting away. Then he raised one hand slowly, clenching it into a fist. His grin sharpened, not out of arrogance—but hunger.
Rykaou: Then let's keep going.
He shifted his footing. His knees bent slightly. His arms loosened. His breathing slowed.
The stance was alive. Not fixed. Not rehearsed. Every part of his body moved in rhythm—small shifts in balance, shoulders turning, muscles twitching in anticipation.
Dark's eyes narrowed.
He could tell this wasn't the same Rykaou as before.
This stance wasn't built for defense or aggression. It was a living thing—changing every second, reacting before thought, before reason.
Rykaou's expression hardened. His voice dropped low.
Rykaou: Let's see how long I can keep up with a god.
The ground cracked beneath his feet.
He moved.
It wasn't speed—it was precision born from instinct. His body curved with every strike, redirecting his own force mid-motion, his limbs twisting like water and fire together. He lunged, pivoted, and struck again before his first movement even finished.
Dark blocked the first hit, sidestepped the second, caught the third—but Rykaou was already gone, sliding under his guard, coming up with a rising elbow that grazed Dark's chin.
Dark exhaled sharply, his focus tightening.
Rykaou didn't stop. He was moving faster, adapting faster. Each motion more primal, more fluid. His body no longer fought—it reacted.
The crowd leaned forward, unable to follow the rhythm anymore.
Dantero grinned wide, eyes glinting.
Dantero: That's it, kid. That's the beast I wanted to see.
Dark blocked another strike, pivoted, and slammed his forearm into Rykaou's ribs. The hit landed, but Rykaou twisted with it, using the impact to spin and slam his heel into Dark's shoulder.
The sound cracked through the air.
Dust burst upward.
Both fighters staggered back.
Dark's hand rose to his shoulder. His lips twitched slightly. A faint smirk.
Dark: Adaptive. Fast. You're learning mid-fight. Good.
Rykaou wiped the blood from his mouth, smiling again.
Rykaou: I told you, Emperor. I don't need wings or blessings. Just time.
Dark: Time won't save you.
Rykaou: It doesn't need to. I'll make it bend.
Their gazes locked again.
The energy in the arena shifted. The crowd felt it, a weight in the chest, a pressure that grew heavier with every second.
The cracks in the ground spread, glowing faintly with heat. The air trembled as their auras collided without touch.
Dantero stepped back slowly, his grin fading into something closer to awe.
Dantero: Oh... this is different.
Rykaou inhaled once, deep and slow.
His pulse thundered in his ears.
The world dimmed until only Dark existed.
Then.
The voices came back.
Crowd Member: He's done! He can't touch the Emperor!
Crowd Member: Look at him! Barefoot, bleeding, he should give up!
Crowd Member: That's what happens when a nobody challenges Emperor Dark!
Laughter.
Sharp.
Cruel.
Rykaou's jaw tightened.
His hands curled into fists.
He didn't look up at them.
Not yet.
Voice: Sit down already!
Voice: You're wasting his time!
Rykaou turned his head slightly, eyes low.
His breathing deepened.
Rykaou: (thinking) That again... those same voices.
Rykaou: (thinking) Every time someone climbs, they laugh.
Rykaou: (thinking) Every time someone stands, they spit.
He spat blood to the ground.
Lifted his head.
Rykaou: You think I'm a nobody...?
The arena froze.
The sound of his voice tore through every whisper.
Rykaou: That's right... that's the way the world works, huh?
He took a slow step forward, eyes sharp.
Rykaou: You look at someone who's fighting...
Someone who's clawing their way up from the dirt...
Rykaou: And you laugh.
He pointed at the crowd, hand moving across the crowd.
Rykaou: You call it foolish... You call it hopeless.
He raised his voice, every word echoing through the arena.
Rykaou: But that's only because you're too scared to try!
The crowd went silent.
Rykaou: You think I fight to be like him?!
He pointed at Dark.
Rykaou: I fight because if I don't...No one will.
He slammed his foot down.
The ground cracked.
Rykaou: I'm not a god and I'm not an Emperor.
He took another step forward.
Blood still running down his mouth, eyes burning bright.
Rykaou: I'm me. Rykaou, Beast of the Valley.
He exhaled through his teeth.
Voice lower.
Steadier.
Rykaou: And if I can't reach you today...
I'll crawl.
Rykaou: I'll bleed.
Rykaou: I'll keep going until I do.
The crowd stayed frozen.
Not a word.
Not a sound.
Dantero stood near the edge, grin returning.
Dantero: (quietly) Now that's the fire I wanted to see.
Dark said nothing.
His eyes locked on Rykaou.
Cold.
Focused.
Calm.
Rykaou wiped the blood from his chin and crouched again, sliding one foot back.
That same low stance.
Alive.
Shifting.
Wild.
Rykaou: (low) You think I care if they believe in me?
He smiled.
Rykaou: I'll make them remember me.
The air bent.
The floor cracked.
Rykaou vanished.
A heartbeat later, impact.
Fist met flesh.
But then.
The air shifted.
Fist met flesh.
Then time... stopped.
Sound died first.
Then light.
Then everything else.
The world crawled.
It slowed.
It froze.
Dust hung in the air like broken glass.
The crowd stood mid-motion, eyes wide, mouths open, frozen in place.
Dark's breath steadied.
His instincts screamed.
Something was here.
He looked up.
The sky cracked.
A thin red line.
Then another.
Then hundreds.
The light bled through the clouds like veins.
Reality split.
And from the fracture — a shadow stepped forward.
A hand emerged first, pale, streaked with black veins that pulsed faintly with red light.
Then came the rest of him.
Bare feet touched nothing.
Each step distorted the air, like sound breaking through water.
A man descended slowly, silent, his body outlined by a dull crimson glow.
A crown of fractured black crystal hovered just above his head, shards orbiting slowly.
His eyes burned red — not bright, but deep, endless, devouring.
When he landed, the world bent inward.
Every breath collapsed under his presence.
Dantero's grin vanished.
Rykaou's knees buckled.
Dark's heart slowed.
No one spoke.
No one moved.
And then the voice came.
Calm.
Low.
Ancient.
Sukojo: (smirking, low laugh) ... Another timeline.
The air trembled like it had a heartbeat of its own.
Sukojo stepped forward, slow and deliberate, the sound of his footsteps echoing through the ruined arena. The dust around him parted as if afraid to touch him.
He stopped between Dark and Rykaou.
Both could feel it. That pressure. That impossible weight pressing down on their souls.
Sukojo inhaled slowly, eyes half-closed. The air itself seemed to bend toward him, like he was breathing in the world.
Then he exhaled.
Sukojo: I smell something from you, Dark.
Dark's head turned slightly, calm but tense.
Dark: ...Sukojo?
His voice was low. Controlled. But his mind was racing. He could feel his own Champion Sukojo alive and steady within the empire's link.
So who was this?
Sukojo tilted his head. His tone carried an almost amused curiosity.
Sukojo: Confused, aren't you?
Dark said nothing.
Sukojo raised one hand, resting it beneath his chin. His posture was lazy, but his eyes were alive with sharp crimson light.
Sukojo: You're wondering how your Sukojo stands by your side, and yet I stand here.
Dark: Yes.
Sukojo smiled.
Sukojo: Simple. I am not from here.
Sukojo: I came from a timeline your world forgot. A place far beyond this, but so close it could whisper in your dreams.
Dark's eyes narrowed.
Dark: Another timeline...
Sukojo: Correct. And unlike the fragments that came after, I am whole. The Supreme Sukojo. The one your historians try to explain. The one your followers pray never returns.
Dark stayed silent, analyzing him carefully.
Sukojo's grin widened.
Sukojo: You want to know how many of me exist?
Dark: No. I want to know why you're here.
Sukojo: Hah. Direct. I like that.
He took one step forward.
The ground cracked.
Dark blinked once.
And his right arm hit the floor.
Blood followed a heartbeat later.
Dark didn't even register pain at first. He looked down at the stump, then slowly turned his head toward Sukojo.
Dark: What—
Sukojo: Why are you looking at me like that?
He didn't raise his voice. He didn't move fast. He simply lifted one finger.
Dark's body collapsed instantly, limbs locking, eyes wide. His muscles spasmed violently as invisible hands crushed him into the ground. Blood streamed from his mouth.
Sukojo: Blood bends to will. Yours bends easily.
A new voice cut through the air. Calm. Precise.
Sereon: Greetings, stranger. And greetings, Emperor Dark.
Sukojo turned, eyes dull with irritation.
Sukojo: Another insect.
He flicked his wrist.
Reality itself split in two, a thin red line that passed straight through Sereon's body. The air screamed from the pressure.
But the cut vanished. The world rewound itself. Sereon stood untouched, brushing a speck of dust from his sleeve.
Sereon: Unnecessary. I only wished to speak.
Sukojo: You're still alive? Interesting.
Sereon: Life and death are irrelevant. Observation is enough.
He looked at Dark, voice steady.
Sereon: I've been watching you for many years, Dark. You're not a god. You're not a savior. You're a variable that refuses to die.
Sukojo's lip twitched.
Sukojo: Get out.
Sereon ignored him.
Sereon: I could defeat you. Not through strength. Through precision.
Sukojo's eyes sharpened.
Sukojo: You talk too much.
He snapped his fingers.
The floor beneath Sereon's feet folded inward, swallowing him in darkness. But then he reappeared behind Sukojo, untouched, smiling faintly.
Sereon: Violence is the first refuge of those who fear irrelevance.
Sukojo: You're boring me.
Sereon smiled wider.
Sereon: Good. That means I've already won.
He began walking away, muttering softly.
Sereon: (thinking) The balance shifts. Let him burn it first. I'll clean what's left.
He vanished into thin air.
Sukojo exhaled through his nose, annoyed.
Sukojo: Finally.
He turned back toward Dark.
Sukojo: Now where were we?
He threw a punch, fast enough to break the air apart.
Dark caught it with his left hand. His eyes burned red.
Dark: I don't care who you are. Leave my Empire.
He rose to his feet. His aura exploded outward, shaking the ground.
Dark rushed forward, slammed into Sukojo, and drove him through the floor.
The ground shattered.
The entire arena caved in.
Dark's right arm regenerated instantly, black veins crawling up the new flesh. He grabbed Sukojo by the crown and smashed his head into the ground.
The shockwave cracked the sky.
Dark turned away.
Dark: Okiru.
Every Champion rose at once.
Cosmic appeared next, light twisting around him like a storm of glass.
Dark: Handle him. I'll be back.
They attacked in unison.
A burst of energy swept through the battlefield.
In one instant, every Champion except Sukojo, Igor, and Cosmic was blown across the horizon.
Sukojo dusted his shoulder and looked at his counterpart.
Sukojo: How quaint.
Champion Sukojo glared back silently.
Igor stepped forward, sword drawn.
Igor: Stay back. I'll handle this.
He pointed his blade at the ancient one.
Igor: You remember me, don't you?
Sukojo tilted his head.
Sukojo: No. Should I?
Igor: Nine-tenths of a trillion years ago, you—
Sukojo waved a hand dismissively.
Sukojo: Spare me the history lesson.
Igor tightened his grip.
Igor: Then I'll remind you through action.
He disappeared.
A blinding flash split the air.
Sukojo's body fragmented into infinite shards before reassembling like smoke drawn back into flame.
Sukojo sighed.
Sukojo: Pointless. You can't kill what doesn't belong to life.
Then four auras appeared behind Dark.
Leona. Tier. Gilmuar. Cron.
They stood shoulder to shoulder, faces hard.
Gilmuar cracked his knuckles.
Gilmuar: Yo. Heard Sukojo's back. Time for some payback.
Leona raised her staff, eyes sharp.
Leona: I'm not holding back this time.
Tier adjusted his armor, energy humming.
Tier: Perfect field test.
Cron didn't speak. His aura spread across the battlefield like a storm.
They all moved together, but Cron broke formation.
Leona: Cron, stop!
Gilmuar: CRON!
He was already gone.
Cron appeared behind Sukojo in a single flash.
Cron: You're finished.
Impact.
The Empire cracked apart.
Light swallowed the world.
When the smoke cleared, the crater reached the planet's core.
Biru stood at the edge, both arms extended, holding the entire Empire aloft with his magic.
Biru: I stand for my Emperor. And for my Empire.
Dark hovered above the crater, looking down. The destruction stretched across continents.
At the bottom, Cron stood over Sukojo.
Cron: It's over. If you were the real one—
A thin sound cut the air.
Cron froze.
A red line opened across his neck.
His head fell.
Silence.
Sukojo opened his eyes, blood dripping from his fingers.
He smiled.
Sukojo: Poor immortal. You really thought you could touch me.
He laughed softly at first, then louder.
Sukojo: Kheh... hehehe... HAHAHAHA!
Cron's body twitched. Then rose again.
His head regenerated, bone and flesh reforming in seconds.
Cron: I have questions.
Sukojo: Questions? About what?
Cron: How far have you gone... in your world?
Sukojo paused, then grinned slowly.
Sukojo: Oh. You're one of those curious types.
He stepped closer, eyes glowing.
Sukojo: In my world, I ended everything. Dark, Cosmic, the rest of your so-called gods. All gone. I don't bow to divinity. I erase it.
He tilted his head, voice dark and mocking.
Sukojo: You could say I'm the Shou of my world.
Cron looked at him quietly, unsure if the being before him was real or just something that should never have existed.
Sukojo smiled wider, his grin stretching until it almost looked wrong.
Sukojo: And now... I think I'll do the same here.
The ground cracked beneath his feet as his aura began to rise again, thick and heavy enough to make the air tremble.
The world held its breath.
Dark's shadow fell across the crater, his eyes glowing faintly as he looked down.
Dark: Enough.
The sound of his voice alone made the ground stop shaking.
Sukojo looked up, smirking.
Sukojo: Heh. Finally awake.
To be continued.
End Of Chapter 9.