The Emperor of the Shadow Dominion, a being who had never left his throne room in five centuries, felt a cold dread settle in his heart. His word alone could topple planets. His armies numbered in the trillions, and his will was law in a thousand systems. But today, he was a man who had been pushed to the edge of his sanity. With his entire fleet destroyed by a single sneeze and his War Champion vanished into a gas giant, he had no choice but to step onto the battlefield himself.
The Galactic Coliseum, miraculously rebuilt overnight after Titanus Rex's "incident," now floated majestically in orbit above a storm-wracked world. The sky was a roiling chaos of black clouds and angry, purple lightning that tore through the heavens, a fitting backdrop for the final confrontation. The Emperor descended from his personal starship, not on a throne or a platform, but on foot. He was clad in a suit of black armor, each piece a masterpiece of lethal craftsmanship. Each step he took cracked the ground, his boots leaving fissures of pure hatred in the arena floor. The air itself grew cold and heavy, a suffocating pressure of raw power that made the very atmosphere tremble.
_____________________________________
[Live Broadcast: The Galactic Coliseum]
Announcer 1: "Oh my stars… it's HIM! The Emperor himself is entering the ring! This is a first in five centuries! Viewers, this isn't a fight; this is an execution!"
Announcer 2: "The sheer power… the rage! You can feel it through the force fields! Viewers, grab your popcorn. This is history in the making—or the galaxy's fastest execution. And we're taking bets on how long the human lasts! We're thinking three seconds!"
_____________________________________
Aetherion strolled into the arena, his hands in his pockets, licking the last bit of icing off his fingers from a galaxy donut he had just finished. He wasn't paying attention to the booming voices or the cheering crowds. He was just trying to get the taste of the donut—a blend of cinnamon and starlight—out of his mind so he could focus on what to eat next.
"Oh, it's you," Aetherion said, his voice flat, upon seeing the Emperor in his intimidating armor. "Sorry, I don't do autographs."
The Emperor's visor flared crimson, a pulse of concentrated fury. "You have insulted my champions, destroyed my weapon, and humiliated my empire. I have watched you dismantle everything I have built with an arrogant casualness that I will not permit to exist! Today… you will kneel!"
Aetherion tilted his head, a genuine look of curiosity on his face. He held up a single, almost-empty finger. "Do I get donuts if I do?"
The Emperor's rage, long suppressed and bottled up, finally broke the dam of his sanity. A deafening roar tore from his helmet. "YOU GET OBLIVION!"
The Emperor raised his gauntlet, a gesture of absolute authority, and the sky above the stadium split in half. The sound was not a sound, but a tearing of reality itself. Galaxies flickered in the wound, like the universe was a curtain being pulled apart. From that rift, from the raw, unmade chaos of a dying universe, emerged The Oblivion Blade. It was a sword forged from the collapse of a thousand dying suns, a blade of pure nothingness so powerful its very presence made time scream.
He swung.
The attack wasn't aimed at Aetherion. It was aimed at the world beneath them. A wave of anti-matter energy ripped through space, vaporizing entire continents below in a silent, blinding flash of light. Moons in the distance shattered, their fragments turning to cosmic dust. The fabric of space bent, and time screamed in protest.
And Aetherion?
He was holding up his donut. "Oops, frosting on my finger—oh, did you swing already?" he said, wiping the frosting on a napkin that he had just materialized from thin air.
The Emperor, breathing hard, his rage now replaced by a chilling terror, unleashed his full arsenal. Black hole bombs, antimatter storms, and reality-rending crescents of blade energy tore through the battlefield. Each attack was capable of annihilating civilizations, and each one Aetherion casually side-stepped, using the blasts' shockwaves to blow crumbs off his shirt. He was not dodging so much as he was simply choosing to be somewhere else when the blast arrived.
[System Notification]
You have successfully dodged a Black Hole Bomb.
[Dexterity: 9,999,999,999]
[New Status: Clumsy-But-Somehow-Lucky]
"Y'know," Aetherion said mid-dodge, a small smile on his face, "this is a nice warm-up. My allergies are all gone, and I'm feeling pretty good. It's like a workout without the work."
The Emperor's attacks, born of desperation, grew more frantic, more powerful, and less focused. Finally, in a final, unhinged burst of fury, he lunged for a direct strike. The crowd gasped as the Oblivion Blade hurtled toward Aetherion's chest—
—Aetherion wasn't there anymore.
He was behind the Emperor, sipping a coffee he had just brewed, his face a picture of bored contentment. "You dropped this," he said, holding out the Oblivion Blade.
The Emperor stared. The weapon in Aetherion's hands, the ultimate symbol of his power and vengeance, was now a spatula. A shiny, stainless-steel kitchen utensil that seemed to hum with an unearned pride. The Emperor's mind, five centuries old and trained for war, finally shattered.
Before the Emperor could react, Aetherion tapped him lightly on the shoulder. The tap, a simple, friendly gesture, sent the Emperor spiraling through twelve dimensions, leaving a cartoonish "poof" cloud in the air. The crowd was silent. Billions watching across the galaxy held their breath.
Aetherion dusted his hands. "Well… I'm still hungry. Anyone up for pancakes?"
_____________________________________
[Galactic Newsfeed – Breaking]
HEADLINE: Shadow Dominion Officially Surrenders – Emperor Missing, Last Seen in Pancake Dimension