Xurnak stood unmoving, his silhouette framed by the cold projection light that flickered from the war table. His voice, when it came, was low—measured, but vast. Like something ancient stirring awake.
"Xarz'Velmoria…" he began, the name alone casting a chill over the chamber.
A world unlike any in the known systems. Not ruled—but endured.
It is not built on order, or law, or civilization as we know it. An ecosystem designed to purge weakness, where sentient beasts claw their way from oceans of fire, and skies weep black lightning for weeks."
He paused, letting the words settle like dust on a grave.
"It is a dominion where the apex predator never stops evolving. Where war is not waged—but lived. There are no alliances. No rebellions. Only survival, and a throne carved from the bones of all who sought it and failed."
He shifted, and the projection on the table morphed—revealing a towering figure. Obsidian flesh, a crown of twisting horns, wings like cleaved shadows, and eyes of burning violet.
"Zar'Kanoth"
The name struck the room like a hammer blow.
"Demon Lord of Xarz'Velmoria. He didn't rule his world… he conquered it every cycle. Even his own legions had to survive his wrath, or be consumed by it. He forged the Nine Hell-Forges. Extinguished suns just to test weapons. Entire star systems were erased, not for victory—but for discipline."
The generals said nothing—what could be said?
Then, slowly, the projection shifted again. The flickering silhouette of Kuro now filled the center of the table—mid-battle, live-feed streaming in real-time.
He was clashing with a Transformed Vaexis, a towering beast of pure bio-armored rage. The feed trembled with seismic impact, winds howling from every strike Kuro parried. The blade in his hand gleamed not with steel—but void.
Xurnak remained silent.
Watching.
Unmoving.
Unblinking.
Only after a long breath did he speak again—quiet, disbelieving, almost reverent.
"I heard it only in rumors. Obscure chatter passed between warlords. A demon swordsman... roaming planet to planet... challenging kings, destroying monsters—erasing tyrants like legends never meant to be remembered."
His eyes narrowed now, fixed on the battle unfolding in the feed.
"He's that man right there."
His voice was no longer calm—just cold.
"The one who fought Zar'Kanoth… and erased him from existence."
---
The sky had turned black. Not with clouds, but with writhing tendrils of smoke and collapsing light—as if reality itself had grown afraid.
Vaexis towered now. No longer a man, nor monster, but something far worse: a cathedral of rage and flesh, all jagged limbs and molten sinew, crawling with glowing glyphs that whispered in tongues no mortal throat should shape. Eyes blinked open across his body—some vertical, others unblinking.
His voice echoed in layered distortion, each word dripping with venom and madness:
"All that's left for you… is silence beneath my shadow."
Then he lunged.
Serrated tendrils dragged through buildings. Each step split the ground into ravines. His slashes weren't just physical—they tore sound, heat, memory itself. The very fabric of the air bled behind every swing.
Kuro didn't block. He moved.
Effortlessly.
He weaved through the chaos, black coat fluttering like the torn edge of night, feet never making a sound. His eye didn't blink. Didn't track. They simply knew.
Every slash that missed him tore deeper into the battlefield—a monument collapsing, then a canyon opening, then a spire of flame vomiting into the heavens.
But Kuro never touched the ground for more than a second.
He was motion without weight. Precision without effort.
Vaexis screamed in frustration, his voice cracking the sky like glass.
"STAND STILL AND DIE!"
More slashes. Walls of corrupted flesh. Pillars of energy that melted iron. The sky warped. The air twisted.
Still, Kuro remained untouched.
Then—
He stopped moving.
One foot clicked against a floating fragment of stone, suspended in the gravity-less chaos.
His hand rose. Two fingers touched the hilt at his back.
Vaexis roared. Charged.
And Kuro whispered, "…Dimension Slash."
Time fractured.
Silence fell.
For a heartbeat—no motion.
Then—
Light itself tore apart.
Dozens—no, hundreds—of violet lines carved through the world. Thin, perfect, radiant cuts across the very concept of space. It was like watching every possible future where Kuro struck… unfold all at once.
Each line came from nowhere. No swing. No effort.
Only inevitability.
It was instant. Flashes of space—cracks blooming like flowers in a frozen frame of time.
From Vaexis's crown to his heart—twenty-two slashes.
Across his limbs—eighteen more.
Behind him, into the city—none. Not a single line strayed.
Reality caught up.
Vaexis stood still.
Then—
He fell apart.
Not torn.
Not destroyed.
Erased.
Like the world forgot he had ever existed.
His flesh turned to light. His bones cracked into stardust. The glyphs on his body let out a final, shrill, unholy whine before vanishing.
Kuro remained still.
The katana was already back in its sheath.
Wind blew past him. Cold. Empty.
And the battlefield, once screaming with fury, now whispered in awe.
---
Silence bloomed like a wound across the war chamber.
The holographic feed still crackled faintly, displaying only the ruins—charred stone, drifting ash, and a single standing figure cloaked in stillness.
Not a word had been spoken.
General Vorik, once a decorated veteran of seven planetary wars, took an unconscious step back from the table.
Another general—Sarela of the Void Orbit—placed a trembling hand over her mouth. Her augmented eyes zoomed in on the battlefield.
"That power.....," she whispered. "Its Godly."
General Tormath leaned forward, scanning the replay, voice brittle with disbelief,"Was that… space manipulation? Dimensional edge compression? What the hell was that technique?"
None answered.
Instead, they all turned—to General Xurnak, still frozen.
His eyes were locked on the live feed. On him.
Kuro,the anomaly, the myth. Still standing where Vaexis had fallen.
Blade sheathed. Back straight.
The wind circled around him, tugging gently at the ends of his coat, which was untouched by ash. Not a scratch marked his frame.
And yet—he looked more like a statue than a victor.
Unmoving. Watching. Waiting.
Perhaps for the next enemy.
Or perhaps… for Xurnak.
---
Xurnak's mind raced, but his face betrayed nothing.
"This is bad.The conflict with the Cryzan Ascendancy still drags on. The outer moons are barely stabilized. We can't afford this. We can't waste anymore resources.And now… this?"
His gaze narrowed.
A being who erased Demon Lord Zar'Kanoth and now obliterated Vaexis… If he sets foot on any of our key sectors, he could shatter the balance of power.We don't have time for this. Not now.
Then—
Without a word, Xurnak turned away.
His long coat trailed behind him like a banner of finality. The generals parted instinctively as he passed, unsure whether to salute or to run.
No explanation.
No command.
Only silence.
---
Elsewhere—
The air around the ruins shimmered faintly, the last embers of the battle fading.
Kuro stood alone.
He had not moved since the slash.
His body was still—shoulders squared, breathing calm.The only sign of life ,a single drop of blood sliding down the edge of his blade's sheath. Not his blood.
The world around him was too quiet.
Then—
A ripple.
Wind shifted.A footstep crunched behind him—heavy. Deliberate.
General Xurnak emerged from the shadows, his presence cold and immovable.
He stopped ten paces from Kuro.
No guards. No weapons raised. Just a commander who'd seen too much—and now stood before something beyond war.
He didn't speak.
And Kuro didn't turn.
Two figures, one forged by war… the other, by something far crueler.
The air between them held its breath.
---
The Hollow Maw
The walls weren't just trembling—they were screaming.
Every stone, every chain, every breath of stale underground air trembled beneath the echoes of the war above. The roof cracked like dry bone. Dust seeped in.
BOOM.
The entire underground prison jolted, knocking Kaen to his knees.
"That's him… it has to be. Kuro."
He could feel it—the rhythm of combat, the staggering, unnatural force of every strike. Like a god and demon tearing the world apart. His heartbeat synced with it, wild and rabid in his chest.
He clenched his fists—blood leaking between his fingers, muscles flexed to their limit against the ancient bindings wrapped around his arms and throat.
" I need to move. Now. Before it's over. I need to be there."
Another quake. This time, the wall behind him cracked just enough—
Kaen twisted, shifted his angle. The restraint snapped loose—flesh tore, but he didn't stop.
SNAP.
His other hand pulled free with a shriek of rusted iron and blood.
But—
The door to his cell exploded inward.
A massive, hunched figure stood in the smoke.
A Titan Warden. Easily over twelve feet tall. Flesh grafted with Dominion-grade metal plating. One eye glowed with a pale arcane core; the other was a dead socket of war-forged trauma.
The thing rumbled a voice—not a warning, but a sentence"You're not permitted to leave."
It charged.
Kaen didn't hesitate.
He lunged forward—not away, but in—and slid beneath the first colossal swing, stone floor carving into his back.
He rose inside the Titan's guard and launched a bladed elbow into its side—useless against armor—but enough to shift weight.
He pivoted behind the titan's knee.
Slammed an open palm into the back of its leg joint—
And with a precise motion, jammed a dislodged metal pin straight into the neural port near its spine.
The Warden roared. Staggered.
Kaen jumped up its back—spinning midair, grabbing onto a hanging coil, and drove his thumb into the dead eye socket.
CRUNCH.
Blood and coolant sprayed. The thing screamed.
Kaen flipped over its shoulder, grabbed the Titan's own embedded shortblade from its thigh, and with all his strength—
Slammed it upward through the jaw.
Bone cracked. Brain stem severed.
The Titan twitched.
Then collapsed like a mountain of flesh.
Kaen rolled clear—barely—gasping, every muscle screaming.
His knees buckled.
But the seal—
Still there.
Still choking him.
He dug his fingers under the collar. Sparks. Burning. Runes flared with red-hot resistance.
"Come on. Not now. Not now."
One final snarl of fury—
The glyphs shattered in a flicker of blue light.
Kaen inhaled like he'd been drowning for hours.
"Kuro… hang on."
And then he ran.
---
Above ground.
Kaen emerged into the fractured plaza—skies scorched, ruins glowing with fresh ash.
And there—
In the center of it all—
Kuro, still as death, one hand low at his side.
Across from him—
General Xurnak, unmoving. Eyes fixed on kuro.