The Divine Realm of Blades stretched endlessly, a boundless expanse where mountains of golden swords pierced the heavens, their radiant hilts vanishing beyond the clouds. Each blade was a monument to purity and slaughter, their edges impaling the carcasses of unimaginable horrors—colossal abominations that once roamed the realms unchecked. Giants with rotting flesh, insectoid monstrosities with serrated limbs, winged defiled angels, and dragons with twisted heads, some bearing seven, others three, all laid impaled upon the golden peaks. Abyssal beasts with countless limbs and gaping maws bristling with towering fangs, conglomerates of warped flesh stitched by chaos, and wraiths of demonic despair—all met their end by the divine steel.
Yet death did not silence some of them. Their blood, both cleansed and defiled, still flowed like an eternal ocean below. The purified white blood of the fallen defiled, and the dark, impure ichor of ancient abyssal nightmares mingled together, forming an ocean that seemed to breathe with a dreadful pulse, a testament to a war long won but never forgotten. The air resonated with a hum of endless purification, the swords glowing with an incandescent golden-white brilliance that enforced a singular truth—purity through annihilation. But even their divine glow could not cleanse the taint left behind by those who inherited the traits of cosmic horrors and outer gods. The swords had slain them all, indiscriminately, but echoes of their madness lingered beyond mortal understanding.
Above, the clouds glowed gold, reflecting the radiance of a sun that blazed with a purifying incandescence. Its light consumed impurity, an eternal beacon of order in a realm where chaos had been carved out by blade and will. And at the heart of this sanctified slaughter, seated upon a throne of sacred, divine, and incomprehensibly powerful blades, was its master.
His light brown skin glowed with a golden radiance, molten circuits of divine gold flowing through his body like rivers of sanctity. His long, snow-white hair flowed loosely in the winds with elegance, shimmered at the tips with golden light. He had golden irises and pupils, shaped like stars, burned with divine will—an unshakable resolve that had purified countless realms. His eyelashes, white as frost, framed a gaze that exuded overwhelming dominance. He was clad in an armor of divine gold and silver-lined runes that pulsed with life, perfectly tailored to his supreme physique.
He sat upon his throne, head resting lightly on his fist, his other hand firmly grasping the armrest. The aura he emitted was absolute. The air itself bowed before his presence. But then—
Something stirred.
At the edge of his realm, a disturbance fractured the eternal order. A black claw pierced the fabric of space and time, tearing open a rift like shattered glass. Cracks spread like veins of madness across the sky, and from this abyss, six colossal tentacles stretched outward, straining against reality itself. Three on each side, they wrenched the rift wider, forcing it to gape like an open wound. Then, they withdrew, retreating into the abyss beyond—
—and from that abyss emerged a terror unlike any other.
A colossal dragon's head, by far over a kilometer in size, emerged from the rift. Its scales were as black as polished obsidian, absorbing light rather than reflecting it. Its reptilian eyes were endless voids, utterly devoid of sanity, emanating an aura of madness that warped the very air around it. Six massive black wings, each scale adorned with black onyx pearls that where in fact unblinking, omniscient eyes, unfurled with a presence that shattered the boundaries of comprehension. Each eyes gaze imposed incomprehensible, profanely divine madness upon existence itself.
And atop this monstrous horror, seated on a gleaming black obsidian throne, was the Mad Prince.
His skin, pale and pristine, was etched with faint, shadowy circuits that glowed with a sinister allure, making him appear both divine and otherworldly. His black kimono, lined with silver and woven with crimson runes, draped over his powerful physique, exuding an aesthetic of corrupted holiness. His eyes, strange and inhuman, held a gaze that spiraled into countless irises—each one a black void filled with stars, an endless expanse of madness incarnate.
He lounged upon his throne, his posture languid and playful. His legs dangled casually over one armrest, while his back leaned lazily against the other. In his left hand, he idly wielded a black odachi that swayed above the dragon's scales with a languid grace. His right hand twirled an obsidian crown playfully, a symbol of his chaos, as if it were a mere trinket. His pure black hair fluttered softly in the corrupted winds that followed him.
But then, he stopped.
His movements ceased, his grin stretching into something far more sinister. Sitting upright, he lazily placed the obsidian crown on his head, and in that instant, his gaze shifted. The countless irises converged into one, making him appear marginally more human—but the madness, hatred, and unquenchable thirst for vengeance that burned in his eyes became all the more terrifying. To look into those eyes was to invite oblivion. Consciousness itself would unravel, existence would fray, and sanity would dissolve into eternal madness.
"Ah," he drawled, his voice playful yet laced with unhinged glee. His gaze locked onto the epicenter of the divine realm. A crooked smile twisted across his face.
"Long time no see, Blade Supreme… or should I say, the Divine Ever-Cleansing Blade of Purity."
The air itself trembled as the Blade Supreme stirred.
His gaze sharpened, his divine will focused like a blade honed to perfection. As he stood, his throne of sacred blades disassembled, the fragments converging behind him, forming a circle of seven divine blades that hovered with an ethereal grace. His stance was firm, his aura unwavering as he fixed his gaze upon the encroaching darkness.
But then, he saw it—
A shadow.
No, not merely a shadow—an encroaching mass of writhing darkness that spilled from the widening rift. It did not merely advance; it consumed. Reality frayed where it touched, and existence itself recoiled as the tide of pure, abyssal corruption seeped into the sanctity of the divine realm. This was no mere darkness. It was the embodiment of uncreation, a primordial force that devoured purity and warped it into madness. The golden clouds dimmed as the shadow stretched toward the heart of the realm, its tendrils defiling all in its path.
The Blade Supreme's jaw clenched. The purity of his realm resisted, but even divine light struggled to stave off the void's insidious advance. His golden irises glowed brighter, his circuits pulsing with divine energy as he beheld the abyss's encroachment.
"Mad Prince…"
His voice echoed with a dangerous finality as the looming darkness dared to approach his throne.
"Today… you die."
The Mad Prince, far from intimidated, erupted into hysterical laughter, his voice echoing with pure insanity. He leaned forward, eyes gleaming with uncontainable madness.
"Not if you die first, bastard!!" he howled with maniacal glee.
And in that instant, the heavens screamed, the abyss roared, and all hell broke loose.