Morthoth Etheroth, the Tenth Sovereign—known to the world as the "King of Eternal Combat"—sat upon his throne in the depths of his palace, carved from rare and priceless materials.
The surrounding air was unnaturally still, broken only by the steady, rhythmic pulse of his heart; he was a man who had mastered the art of finding serenity amidst chaos.
Yet, that stillness shattered with a subtle ripple in space.
With a flick of his wrist—a movement so casual it belied the crushing pressure he held in check—he summoned the intruder who dared approach his private quarters.
The messenger materialized, his knees slamming into the stone floor with a heavy thud.
He trembled, his face turning ghostly pale as his eyes met the absolute authority of the Tenth Sovereign.
"I am but a humble envoy, Lord Morthoth," he stammered.
He reached into his robe and pulled out a scroll made of iridescent ancient dragon hide.
He offered it with shaking hands, then vanished into the shadows, fleeing as if his very life depended on those few seconds in the presence of the "Tyrant."
Morthoth opened the scroll; the parchment pulsed with a dark, rhythmic life.
It contained no long demands, only a single sentence, inscribed in fresh, shimmering blood:
"To Morthoth Etheroth, the Tenth Sovereign:
If you truly wish to see your beloved Elina Hel Kinath breathe one last time, get off your throne and come to the Plains of Void."
A primal, suffocating aura erupted from Morthoth, a shockwave of pure intent that shook the foundations of his palace.
His eyes, usually a piercing human hue, shifted into a terrifying, glowing crimson.
In a heartbeat, he vanished, leaving a trail of shadows in the sky as he tore toward the horizon.
The Plains of Void were a desolate expanse drenched in dead, gray light.
Ahead lay not just land, but a nightmare of steel: an ocean of armor and a massive legion of the world's elite warriors.
Morthoth did not hesitate; he drew upon the core of his being, the essence of Eternal Combat, and roared his signature technique into existence: "Tyrant's Art, First Form: Crimson Tyrant's Stride."
He stomped the earth; the ground screamed as it cracked, swallowing the vanguard of the army into an abyss of shattered stone.
He moved like lightning, a phantom of destruction.
Every movement was a lesson in slaughter; shields shattered like glass, and iron bent like paper.
He was a hurricane of carnage, carving through thousands, turning the soil into a thick sludge of blood
and broken metal. The disparity between the "Tyrant's" power and those beneath
him was like the distance between heaven and earth.
Suddenly, a titan appeared—Shainis, a warrior surpassed in status only by the Sovereigns themselves.
His armor glowed with a golden brilliance
as he blocked a strike that could have decapitated a dragon.
Their collision sent shockwaves that leveled the horizon.
Find this and other great novels on the author's preferred platform. Support original creators!
Morthoth spoke in a cold voice, devoid of his usual mirth:
"Your strength is worthy of praise, Shainis. Usually, I would enjoy this dance, but I am not in the mood today."
"Tyrant's Art, Second Form: Crimson Tyrant's Grip."
A single, catastrophic strike. The shockwave dismantled Shainis's armor, his sword, and his very existence, erasing what remained of the army in a silent, expanding sphere of force.
The sky tore open, and nine figures descended, bathed in arrogant, blinding light. The Sovereigns had arrived.
"As expected," sneered Kyle Von Leon, Sovereign of War and Frost.
"Those insects couldn't stop you, but they served their purpose in draining your reserves."
"Had we let him grow for another century," added Berthan, Sovereign of Barriers, "he would have become an unkillable monster."
Morthoth ignored them, his eyes fixed on Lishioth, who held Elina Hel Kinath bound in blinding, ethereal chains.
Morthoth roared with terrifying, ancient authority: "Release her.
That is your final warning."
Lishioth smiled coldly and snapped his fingers; the chains vanished.
Elina lunged toward Morthoth, but before she could reach him, Lishioth whispered:
"Do you remember that day, Morthoth? The day you crushed me in front of the entire world? I swore then that I would take something from you that you could never get back."
A sword of holy light manifested from nothingness, piercing Elina's heart with surgical precision as she fell into Morthoth's arms.
"I have lived..." Elina whispered, her voice like a fragile ghost, "...the most beautiful days of my life... by your side."
Morthoth screamed, his hands glowing with a desperate, golden light in a futile attempt to stop the impossible bleeding.
"You promised me! Do not close your eyes! I will get you out of here, I swear it!"
She breathed out with a faint, sorrowful smile:
"I am sorry... I cannot keep my promise. I love you, Morthoth. Just... live." Her hand fell.
The silence that followed was louder than any thunder.
Morthoth stared at her. Waiting. Surely, she would open her eyes.
Surely, she would complain about him holding her too tight. Surely, she would smile again. ...She did not.
Then, a scream that tore the world apart erupted from his throat.
The mad moments consumed him. A wave of darkness exploded from his body, so intense it devoured light itself.
The sky turned ink-black. His aura shifted from crimson to the black of the Void, signaling the end of days.
Lishioth's smile froze; triumph vanished from his eyes.
For the first time since orchestrating the trap, fear seeped into his heart.
"No..." "He actually awakened it..."
The Sovereigns retreated, and for the first time in millennia, they turned pale.
They all whispered: "That power... it's that power. Dammit."
Morthoth lunged at Lishioth, his fist crackling with the "Tyrant's Annihilation" art.
A holy barrier materialized, but it shattered like crystal. Lishioth barely blocked the blow with his blade, but
Morthoth wove a blade of condensed darkness, his style shifting into the "Tyrant's Sword."
Kyle intercepted him with a "Frost Spear," but Morthoth deflected the heavy blow and
redirected his aggression toward Lishioth, crushing his armor and forcing him back. Kyle seized the opening to
attack, but Morthoth had predicted it, releasing a black hurricane of energy that sent him flying.
Morthoth turned back to Kyle and severed his arm. Before he could finish him off, Berthan's "Absolute Barrier" intervened.
The walls groaned and cracked under the relentless pressure for three seconds before exploding.
As Morthoth moved to deliver the killing blow, Kainos, Sovereign of Space, warped reality to dampen the assault.
Driven by rage, Morthoth used "Tyrant's Stride" to appear before Berthan, his blade
cutting the air, nearly severing the Barrier Sovereign's head.
Berthan retreated at the last second, though the strike cost him his eyes.
Morthoth's own body began to tear apart; the dark energy was too potent, shredding his veins like molten iron.
Kainos seized the moment, folding space to drag Morthoth into the center of the battlefield.
"It is finished," announced Angela, Sovereign of Magic.
The secret formation, fueled by the souls of thousands of elite warriors Morthoth had killed, and reinforced by three "Immortal" rank artifacts, erupted.
Ancient magic sigils flared, bolstered by
Berthan's barriers and Kainos's warped space.
Lishioth plunged his holy blade deep into Morthoth's shoulder—a strike that leveled the mountains behind them.
Morthoth fell, his power sealed, reduced to a mortal state.
He hit the ground, blood flowing in a dark river.
His dead gaze remained fixed on the cold body of Elina Hel Kinath.
"Look how futile your struggle was," scoffed Chirantis, Sovereign of Healing, while indifferently tending to the others. "You fought for a ghost."
Lishioth stood over him: "Look at her, Morthoth.
The woman you wanted to protect. In the end, she died because she chose you."
Morthoth let out a wet, booming laugh, spitting black blood: "For years, you preached a prophecy that I would destroy this world... how ironic.
You weren't protecting the world, you cowards. You were just terrified of me.
" He looked up, his eyes burning with one last defiant light: "Damn you all.
I will burn you and your world to ashes, even if I am a ghost... and I will make every single one of you remember this day."
With those final words, the "Absolute Tyrant" went silent.
The world stood still, but the darkness in Morthoth's eyes remained—a promise of
vengeance that not even death could contain, etched forever into the soil of the Plains of Void.