The scene played on as the two indomitable figures stood before each other. One stood below, gazing up with unflinching defiance, while the other held the higher ground, basking in its prideful advantage.
"Who the hell are you?" Julius demanded again, this time his tone sharpened with venom. His hand still pressed against the gaping wound in his abdomen, blood seeping through his fingers.
Aleksander straightened, his cold and pride-soaked voice cutting through the air, his gaze calm but merciless. "I have no obligation to give my name to the weak."
"The weak?" Julius echoed, incredulous, his expression twisting in disbelief at such arrogance. "Child, do you think so highly of yourself? Do you even realize who stands before you?"
Aleksander's reply came colder still. "I couldn't care less about who you are. What matters is that you stand in the presence of power far beyond your reach. You should be honored to witness it."
A faint smile tugged at his lips. "It's a once-in-a-lifetime sight."
Julius blinked, baffled for a heartbeat, then erupted in manic laughter. His hand tore through his hair as a sinister aura erupted from his frame, healing his wound in an instant. It was as though he had never been touched, his flesh mocking the fatal blow.
His laughter faded into words heavy with dark delight. "You speak as though you're a god standing before a mortal. But your presence…" His grin widened, and his aura pulsed, suffocating. "It tells every nerve and fiber in me to flee, to survive. It has been a very, very long time since my body has felt such a thing."
His eyes narrowed, voice thick with cruel amusement. "You aren't all talk, are you? I can taste the power buried beneath that arrogance. You even managed to catch me off guard, to rip through my natural defenses as though they were nothing."
He chuckled again, low and dangerous. "Forgive my rudeness. I should have introduced myself sooner."
His aura flared—a wave of devilish, crushing pressure—directed straight at Aleksander. Though his stance remained proud, the weight of it pressed against him, gnawing at his composure.
"My name," Julius said slowly, his smirk returning, "is Julius von Audrius. Grand Emperor of the Lithuanian Empire."
Aleksander's eyes widened, disbelief cracking through his stoic mask. "Julius von Audrius? That's impossible. There's no way you are who you claim. That man died ten thousand years ago."
"Oh, but it is true," Julius answered with a devilish gleam.
Aleksander's voice turned sharp with rejection. "Lies. A corpse of history cannot be standing before me, breathing, mocking. Do you take me for a fool?"
Julius tilted his head, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Whether you believe me or not is meaningless. What matters is simple: I was brought back from the grave. And the one who dragged me from death into this forsaken world…" His lips curled. "Is none other than the devil in sheep's clothing—Percival Asford."
The name struck Aleksander like a blade to the gut. His composure faltered, eyes widening at the revelation. His uncle—Percival—had dared to tamper with the dead? To unleash the nightmare of creation itself?
Julius went on, feigning absentmindedness, as though savoring Aleksander's shock. "My memory is hazy, I'll admit… ah, yes. That cunning bastard Percival boasted that he slaughtered his own brother. Sacrificed his own blood—his heart—to fuel the dark spell that summoned me."
His grin split wider. "To resurrect a condemned soul, one must give up someone they truly love. Such a grand and cruel bargain. Isn't it hilarious?"
Aleksander froze, his stoic mask cracking. If Julius spoke truth, if Percival had truly sacrificed his father—his blood—then there was no forgiveness, no restraint. His body trembled, rage seething beneath his calm exterior, every muscle screaming to destroy his uncle with his bare hands.
But he held still, his jaw clenched, voice trembling only slightly as he finally spoke. "If every word you've spoken is true… then I have no choice but to kill you here and now."
Julius tilted his head, his tone suddenly light, mocking, almost playful. "But you haven't given me your name yet. Surely you wouldn't deny me that courtesy, would you?"
Aleksander sighed, finally replying, "If you truly insist."
"My name is Aleksander Ivanovich."
"Wait…" Julius cut in, startled. "Aleksander Ivanovich?"
"Yes?"
Julius narrowed his eyes. "I've heard that name before. That cunning devil spoke of you long ago… that once, in the history of creation itself, a mortal boy was born as a Herrscher. And not just anywhere—but in the Ivanovich family of all places."
Aleksander smiled faintly. "I'm flattered by your words. But they won't spare you from what's about to come. To think Percival would dare bring back the scourge of all living creatures… I never imagined his foolishness ran this deep. What could he possibly gain from unleashing hell upon earth again?"
Julius smirked, his tone mocking. "You speak as though you fear me."
"Fear?" Aleksander's crimson-wine eyes burned with resolve. "No. I crave the opportunity. At last, the heavens have given me the chance to prove why I am the 'Strongest' in history—by defeating you. The Grand Herrscher of the End. Harbinger of Havoc. Lord of Apocalypse."
"'Strongest?'" Julius raised a brow. "Do you truly believe someone like you deserves that title? Look, child. You are a rare specimen, yes—the first and only to be born a Grand Herrscher. But potential is all you are. A child of possibility, nothing more, nothing less. Don't let it cloud your head."
His voice deepened, heavy with scorn. "I earned my title of 'The Strongest.' I crushed every foe who dared stand before me across countless eras. I wasn't handed power at birth, unlike you. Tell me, do you truly think defeating the fragile husks of this weakened era entitles you to claim my throne?"
Aleksander's answer was cold, unshaken. "Yes. I don't think I am the strongest. I know I am. And when I unseal my powers, I will ascend to that final, rightful title."
Julius stared, utterly baffled, before his jaw dropped into a grin. His laughter came soft at first, then louder, amusement glittering in his eyes. "You know, in all my millions of years, I have never met anyone more arrogant than you."
"I'm flattered," Aleksander replied without hesitation.
Julius's smirk widened. "Very well. I'll grant you the chance to prove it. It has been far too long since I've crossed blades with someone of the Ivanovich bloodline."
Aleksander tilted his head. "Oh really?"
"Of course. Your family's story is known across ages—a line blessed by the Supreme Being of Light, opposite to all I am. For epochs, your lineage has upheld a prophecy: that one day, a child bearing the Highest Will's gifts and essences would be born among you. I never cared for the imitators. I only waited for the true one… the prophesied heir."
His eyes locked on Aleksander, piercing, almost hungry. "And now, standing before me, I wouldn't be surprised if you were that very child."
Aleksander's lips curved into a steady smile. "I am that child."
Julius blinked, his expression breaking for a heartbeat. "What?"
"I am the prophesied one. I was told as much—even by my Contractor. I know that I am."
Julius murmured then, smiling as though savoring the taste of it. "Just arrogance…"
Aleksander continued, his voice steady but burning with conviction. "When I was born, the human world did not see a single night of darkness for seven days. The skies blazed with endless light, and the stars themselves refused to dim."
His eyes narrowed, crimson aura beginning to stir. "Not a single crop withered. Not a single field lay barren. Every corner of the earth flourished as though touched by divine hands. And the heavens themselves sang in celebration."
He lifted his chin, a faint but dangerous smile flickering across his lips. "A miracle, they called it. A miracle that I am. I am not arrogant, Emperor. Nor am I prideful, as you and others claim. I am simply confident in the truth of who I am."
With that, Aleksander ignited his punishing, divine crimson aura, a storm of radiance that tore at the air itself as it clashed violently against Julius's devilish presence. Sparks of light and shadow collided in waves, rattling the very ground beneath them.
Silence fell, heavy and crushing, as the two locked eyes. Their gaze alone could have shattered the soul of any mortal who dared to stand between them.
Julius finally broke it, a crooked smile tugging at his lips. "You're nothing but an arrogant brat. Yet… I must admit, you are strong. Stronger than most I have faced at your age."
His voice darkened. "But do not fool yourself. I have defeated countless foes. I have laid waste to nations. You are nothing more than another sparring dummy to me."
Aleksander's glare cut sharper than a blade. "Funny. I could say the same of you. I've long wondered if the so-called 'Strongest in Creation'—the one feared as the Grand Herrscher of the End, second only to the Supreme Beings themselves—truly lives up to the terror of his name."
His aura flared brighter, divine wrath entwined with unyielding confidence. "So tell me, Julius von Audrius… Great Emperor of Hades. Will you dance for me? Before I send you back to the pit that birthed you?"
Julius chuckled, speechless for a moment at the sheer audacity blazing in Aleksander's words. His lips twisted into a wolfish grin. "Cheeky brat."
Though newly resurrected, Julius's body carried the immense weight of his ascension—his black ethereal core marking him as a Patriarch. Yet even he had not fully tested the limits of this reborn strength. Aleksander's aura told him one thing with certainty: this boy too had awakened a black ethereal core, refined and tempered with frightening precision.
Instead of fear, Julius felt only exhilaration. His body trembled—not with hesitation, but with anticipation. At last, an opponent he would not need to restrain himself against.
And so, the clash began.
In a blink, both vanished from sight, their movements faster than mortal perception could follow. They reappeared an instant later, fists colliding in the space between them. The very air convulsed, space itself distorting, before erupting outward in a violent shockwave. The blast shredded the earth around them, as though reality itself recoiled from their meeting.