The first months of Aizen and Lyra's reign passed in peace.
The Dragon Empire's banners flew proudly across the Green Continent, the skies patrolled by loyal wyverns and dragons, and the streets were filled with music and laughter.
But in the shadows, the Demon King was already at work.
---
The Demon King's First Move
He began not with soldiers, but with whispers.
Messengers moved in silence between the continents, carrying poisoned words. To the Snow Continent, he hinted of betrayal from the Green. To the Sand Continent, he whispered that the Sky Kingdom's new truce was a trap. To the Sky Queen, he spoke of the Sand King's hidden armies.
The Demon King knew war did not always need swords — sometimes it only needed mistrust, and the weight of old grudges.
But his true interest lay in something older, something that frightened even him.
The Leviathan. The Bakunawa.
If they ever awakened together, the world would end. And yet, their hatred was born from a wound so deep that neither could see the truth.
---
The Tale of the Sundering
In the dawn of the Primordial Age, before kings, before gods claimed dominion over the heavens, there were two great beings — the Bakunawa and the Leviathan.
They were more than allies; they were inseparable.
Bakunawa, the black-and-gold serpent with great wings of shadowlight, could swallow suns and glide through the void between worlds.
Leviathan, the silver-and-sky-blue serpent, was the guardian of the world's living oceans and hidden dimensions.
For millions of years, they roamed the cosmos together, defending life where they found it and destroying what threatened it.
Bakunawa had three sons, strong and radiant as their mother, each bearing fragments of her celestial power. She trusted no one as much as Leviathan, his little brother, and his little sister — the Serpent Siblings of the Deep.
Then came the day of loss.
Bakunawa returned from a voyage to find her sons dead, their bodies shattered and drifting among the stars. The killer was unknown, and in her rage she thought only of betrayal. Who else could have approached her children? Who else knew their sanctuary?
Her mind turned to the one she trusted most — and the siblings she had left them with.
In her grief, suspicion became truth. She decided Leviathan had taken from her the only family she had left.
---
Leviathan's own grief came soon after.
He returned to his deep ocean dimension to find his little sister, once playful and bright, lying still. Her scales — once alive with color — had dulled to gray. At first, he thought she was shedding, preparing for a new brilliance.
Then he saw the truth — her body was gone, dissolving into black dust that vanished into the currents.
And his little brother… was missing entirely.
The evidence was nothing but silence, but Leviathan's heart burned with one conclusion — his sister's killer was the very one he had trusted for eons: Bakunawa.
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From Friendship to Fury
The first meeting after their loss was not of words, but of violence.
Leviathan's body lengthened, transformed into his monster form — a colossal serpent whose fins and wings tore through dimensions, moving at the speed of light. The oceans boiled beneath his rage, storms breaking across every shore.
Bakunawa met his fury with her own, her form twisting into a winged serpent of black and gold, her power so great that stars flickered when she passed. Her wings carried her at light speed, her strikes shattering mountains.
From that day forward, every time their paths crossed — whether in the mortal world, other dimensions, or in the cold depths of space — they fought without mercy.
Neither knew the truth.
Neither realized they had both been victims of the same unseen hand.
And the Black Creature that spoke in Signatures — the only one who could have revealed the truth — remained silent.
---
Back in the present, the Demon King studied this ancient enmity with a cold smile.
"All it will take is the right moment," he thought, "and their rage will burn the world before I even lift a sword."
Far away, in the cold of space, the Bakunawa's sleeping form shifted — just slightly — as if stirred by an old memory.
(END of chapter 41)