Eternia's Requiem

Night was coming.

The last traces of sunlight bled across the horizon like dying embers scattered upon an endless sea of darkness.

Yet within the barrier surrounding the Sinclair Domain, night never truly arrived.

The sky itself had become something unnatural.

Golden cracks stretched across the heavens.

Black rivers flowed through the clouds.

Angelic hymns echoed from impossible distances.

Demonic laughter whispered beneath the earth.

Reality trembled.

Reality screamed.

Reality obeyed.

And at the center of it all stood a silver-haired girl.

Or rather—

Something wearing the shape of a silver-haired girl.

The First Dream.

The ancient existence observed the battlefield through Eternia’s eyes.

Observed.

Calculated.

Judged.

Its gaze settled upon a single figure standing among shattered marble and ruined walls.

A humble noble.

At least that was what the world believed him to be.

The holder of the Axis of Harmony.

The target.

The anomaly.

The mistake.

The First Dream’s expression remained unreadable.

Interesting.

Very interesting.

According to information gathered by its Heralds, the holder of the Axis of Harmony should have been a Celestial Saint.

Strong.

Influential.

Dangerous.

But manageable.

Instead—

What stood before it possessed power far beyond those reports.

The First Dream could feel it.

Every breath the noble took.

Every heartbeat.

Every movement.

The surrounding ether bent subtly around him.

The world itself adjusted to accommodate his existence.

A sign only those standing at the highest realms could perceive.

Void Monarch.

Not merely a Void Monarch.

A Void Monarch standing at the very edge of transcendence.

One step away from becoming a Godling.

One step away from joining the strongest beings currently walking the world.

The First Dream’s eyes narrowed.

"So."

Its voice echoed through the ruined ballroom.

"You fooled them all."

The noble smiled faintly.

Not proudly.

Not arrogantly.

Almost apologetically.

"As did you."

The First Dream ignored the remark.

Instead it raised a hand.

The sky darkened.

An immeasurable amount of Ether surged outward from its body.

Golden.

Crimson.

Silver.

Black.

Ancient runes spread across the heavens.

The atmosphere instantly became oppressive.

Every spectator trapped inside the barrier felt their souls shudder.

Then—

Soul Script: Mandate of Heaven and Hell

The summons manifested.

Angels.

Demons.

Monsters.

Beasts.

Warriors.

Kings.

Abominations.

Thousands upon thousands emerged from the summoning circles.

Some carried wings stretching hundreds of meters.

Others possessed countless eyes.

Some were armored in divine light.

Others dripped black blood.

All of them immediately charged.

The battlefield exploded into motion.

BOOM!

A giant angel descended.

BOOM!

A horned demon lunged forward.

BOOM!

Hundreds more followed.

An endless tide.

An army large enough to destroy kingdoms.

The noble remained calm.

Almost bored.

Then he moved.

One step.

A single step.

The world cracked.

BOOOOM!

The first angel exploded.

Not wounded.

Not damaged.

Exploded.

Its body disintegrated into golden particles.

The second demon vanished moments later.

The third.

The fourth.

The fifth.

Hundreds died every second.

No spells.

No techniques.

No visible effort.

Just movement.

Pure movement.

The noble flowed through the battlefield like a river cutting through sand.

A palm strike shattered space.

A kick erased a giant demon.

A simple punch vaporized an angelic commander.

The summoned army collapsed.

And still more appeared.

The First Dream continued summoning.

Not because it expected victory.

Because it was observing.

Testing.

Learning.

Measuring.

The noble noticed.

"You are studying me."

"I am."

"You always were cautious."

The First Dream’s gaze sharpened.

The statement implied familiarity.

Ancient familiarity.

Dangerous familiarity.

Yet the noble simply smiled.

As if discussing the weather.

As if speaking to an old acquaintance.

Around them thousands continued dying.

The battlefield had become a storm of blood and light.

Yet neither seemed concerned.

The First Dream observed while summoning.

Eternia’s Soul Script.

Mandate of Hell and Heaven.

A terrifying power.

A power born from conquest.

Every being Eternia defeated.

Every enemy she subjugated.

Every creature whose soul had been bound.

Could be recreated.

Summoned.

Enhanced.

Improved.

A kingdom of servants.

An army without limit.

A throne built upon victory.

The First Dream had already mastered that power in another timeline.

Another world.

Another future.

A future that no longer existed.

Its expression darkened slightly.

A rare display of irritation.

If only the original Eternia had not ruined everything.

If only she had survived.

If only she had continued growing.

If only she had fulfilled her role.

But she hadn’t.

She had chosen death.

Chosen rebellion.

Chosen freedom.

And in doing so forced the First Dream to spend precious divinity.

To turn back time.

To reset fate.

To begin again.

Even now the cost remained painful.

Its divinity was diminished.

Its influence weakened.

Its vessel incomplete.

In the previous timeline Eternia had already reached the Tenth Circle.

A far superior vessel.

A far superior foundation.

Now?

This body was barely developed.

Fragile.

Immature.

Incomplete.

Even with my bottomless ether.

Even with my endless experience.

Even with my perfect mastery.

The vessel itself imposed limitations.

The First Dream could only operate near the Awakened level.

Anything more risked destroying Eternia’s body completely.

Annoying.

Very annoying.

The noble suddenly appeared before it.

No warning.

No buildup.

One moment he stood fifty meters away.

The next he was already punching.

BOOOOOM!

The impact shattered the air.

The First Dream blocked.

The collision created a shockwave that flattened nearby buildings.

The earth split apart.

A crater hundreds of meters wide appeared instantly.

The noble smiled.

The First Dream smiled back.

Then both disappeared.

BOOOOOM!

Another collision.

BOOOOOM!

Another.

BOOOOOM!

Another.

The spectators couldn’t even follow the battle anymore.

Only flashes.

Golden.

Crimson.

Silver.

Black.

Every impact sounded like the world ending.

Every collision generated hurricanes.

Entire sections of the city vanished.

The barrier trembled continuously.

Fists collided.

Elbows clashed.

Knees struck.

Ether exploded.

The noble’s body and the vessel radiated reddish-purple energy.

Dense.

Violent.

Beautiful.

The First Dream met every attack head-on.

Neither used weapons.

Neither used techniques.

For now.

Pure combat.

Pure skill.

Pure experience.

The noble attempted a sweeping strike.

The First Dream stepped aside.

Countered.

Palm strike.

The noble blocked.

Knee.

Elbow.

Punch.

Kick.

The exchange became so fast reality struggled to keep up.

The First Dream finally spoke.

Its voice deep.

Ancient.

Mocking.

"Not going to use your technique?"

The noble jumped backward.

His feet landed softly.

Dust rose around him.

He laughed.

A surprisingly warm laugh.

"To think."

He shook his head.

"The First Demon King has fallen so low."

The battlefield suddenly grew colder.

The First Dream stopped moving.

Completely.

Silence spread.

The noble immediately stepped back.

Instinct.

Pure instinct.

Something dangerous had just happened.

The First Dream slowly lifted its head.

Its eyes glowed.

The pressure increased.

The atmosphere thickened.

Even the angels stopped singing.

Even the demons became silent.

"The First Demon King."

Its voice carried amusement.

"You realized that much."

The noble’s smile faded.

For the first time.

The First Dream continued.

"Alas."

"That was merely one vessel."

The world trembled.

"One role."

"One mask."

"One incarnation."

The pressure increased further.

The noble’s eyes narrowed.

The First Dream spread its arms.

Countless halos appeared behind it.

Countless black chains emerged from beneath the earth.

"He was powerful."

"Perhaps the strongest vessel."

Its expression became cold.

"But strength alone means nothing."

The heavens darkened.

"If the Soul Script cannot serve the Grand Purpose."

The Grand Purpose.

The words carried terrifying significance.

Ancient significance.

Something hidden.

Something forbidden.

Something connected to the origins of existence itself.

The noble’s expression finally became serious.

Truly serious.

The First Dream looked directly into his eyes.

And smiled.

Not kindly.

Not warmly.

The smile of an executioner.

The smile of a god announcing judgment.

The smile of an inevitable ending.

"I hope you enjoyed your life."

Its voice echoed across the entire barrier.

Every living being heard it.

Every soul trembled.

Every heart froze.

Because they all knew.

Something terrible was about to happen.

The First Dream slowly raised one hand.

The heavens split apart.

The earth screamed.

The sea of corpses beneath the battlefield stirred.

Ether flooded reality.

Ancient runes appeared.

Divine runes.

Forbidden runes.

The noble’s instincts exploded.

Danger.

Danger.

Danger.

Every warning screamed at once.

Then the words arrived.

Sharp.

Absolute.

Unavoidable.

"Sacred Art."

The barrier shook.

The angels knelt.

The demons bowed.

The dead became silent.

The living forgot how to breathe.

The First Dream’s voice carried across the world.

"Sacred Art."

Countless halos ignited.

Chains wrapped around its body.

Reality distorted.

Ether flowed with perfect efficiency.

Not a single fragment wasted.

Not a single drop lost.

The vessel became perfection itself.

The ultimate conduit.

The ultimate weapon.

The ultimate executioner.

The First Dream opened its eyes.

Golden.

Black.

Heaven.

Hell.

Both reflected simultaneously.

Then it spoke.

"Sacred Art."

The stars vanished.

The sky cracked.

The world bowed.

"Saint of Heaven."

Golden wings erupted behind it.

Thousands.

Millions.

Infinite.

At the same time black chains burst from beneath reality.

Ancient execution chains.

Chains that once bound gods.

Chains stained by the blood of legends.

The second half followed.

"Executioner of Hell."

BOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

The battlefield exploded.

The noble’s eyes widened.

Not from fear.

From anticipation.

For the first time in centuries.

He had found a worthy opponent.

And somewhere deep within Eternia’s imprisoned soul.

Something stirred.

Something watched.

Something remembered.

The battle had finally begun.