Atem didn't like it. Not one bit.
The moment the brothers finished speaking, a sharp pressure wrapped around the room like a coiled serpent. Atem's eyes narrowed dangerously, golden light flickering in their depths.
Dagruel…
Without another word, Atem turned to his subordinates. "Benimaru. Shion. Everyone."
The weight of his voice made them stand straighter immediately.
"I'll be back," he said simply.
The air shifted — then BOOM. A swirl of golden and black energy erupted around him like a sandstorm made of divine power. His cloak whipped violently in the windless hall. Before anyone could take another breath, Atem's body was engulfed in a dazzling light — and he vanished.
Forbidden Barren Lands — Dagruel's Territory
A heavy, tranquil night hung over the massive fortress that housed Dagruel, the Titan Demon Lord. He sat at the head of a long black stone table, casually enjoying dinner with his brother Glassord and a handful of his generals. The deep rumbling laughter of giants filled the hall.
"Hah! Those boys probably picked a fight somewhere again," Dagruel chuckled, downing a massive goblet of blood-red wine.
Glassord smirked. "They've got your reckless nature, brother. I'm surprised you even let them go to Eterna without warning—"
The ground shook.
Not just a tremor — the entire fortress rumbled like the earth itself was bowing. The chandeliers swayed violently, the silverware rattled across the table. The laughter died instantly. Generals jumped to their feet, scanning the walls and windows in panic.
"W-what's happening?!" one shouted.
"Are we under attack?!" another barked.
But before orders could be given, a crushing weight fell on everyone present.
It wasn't magic.
It was dominion.
The temperature plummeted. The air itself thickened, like a black storm pressing down on their lungs. Even the titanic generals struggled to breathe, their knees shaking as they fought against the weight.
Then—
A voice, calm yet echoing like the judgment of gods, rolled through the hall.
"Dagruel… how dare you."
Every eye snapped toward the massive stone throne room doors. They weren't opened. They were obliterated by a pulse of golden-black energy.
Through the swirling dust and shattered rock, Atem emerged.
His black and gold cloak flowed behind him like the robes of a divine monarch, his eyes glowing with ancient power. His presence bent the air. The floor cracked beneath his steps, golden hieroglyphs briefly flashing with every footfall.
Behind him floated Dark Magician, Black Luster Soldier, Magician of Black Chaos, and The Tricky — their auras flaring like blazing suns. But these were not the same spirits from the old days; their power now felt godlike. Even the most seasoned generals felt their instincts scream to kneel.
Dagruel's eyes widened, his relaxed demeanor instantly replaced by sharp alertness. "Atem…!"
"How bold of you," Atem's voice cut through the air like a blade. "To send your sons into my territory… without asking for my permission."
The pressure intensified — the fortress groaned as walls cracked under the sheer force of his Pharaoh's Authority.
"Do I appear that weak to you?" Atem's voice lowered, calm, but with a weight that pressed down like a divine judgment. "That you can do whatever you please?"
The generals collapsed to one knee, unable to withstand it. Glassord clenched his fists, gritting his teeth, but even he was drenched in sweat, fighting to stay standing.
Dagruel's chair split in two behind him as the force surged.
"Hasn't the Walpurgis taught you anything, Dagruel?!" Atem roared, and the air exploded.
An invisible shockwave surged through the fortress. Torches blew out. The night outside howled as the ground cracked for miles. Atem's spirit monsters raised their weapons — the Dark Magician's staff glowed ominously, Black Luster Soldier unsheathed his blade, and Magician of Black Chaos's aura painted the room in blood-red light.
Even titans felt small before that power.
Dagruel finally rose from his seat, his own immense aura clashing faintly with Atem's. But even so… there was no question who dominated this battlefield.
"Atem," Dagruel rumbled, voice low but steady. "You're furious."
Atem's golden eyes sharpened. "You're damn right I am."
The sheer authority in that statement silenced the entire hall.
Dagruel clenched his jaw, the realization finally hitting him — he had crossed a line.
"This is Eterna we are talking about," Atem continued, stepping forward, his aura pushing back Dagruel's like a tidal wave crushing a boulder. "Not some playground for your undisciplined brats. You should know better than anyone what my land represents."
Cracks snaked across the marble floor. The oppressive weight of his divine magic made the entire castle groan as though it would shatter any second.
Dagruel exhaled slowly, trying to keep his composure. "I didn't mean disrespect… I only wanted them to—"
"You assumed," Atem snapped, voice sharp as a blade, "And that was your mistake."
Every word echoed like a hammer to the chest. His power wasn't just magical — it was absolute authority. Pharaoh's Authority. A force that crushed pride, ego, and arrogance beneath the weight of an ancient king.
Atem took another step. The spirit monsters mirrored his movement, their presence filling every corner of the hall. Generals lowered their gazes, unable to look directly at them.
Dagruel clenched his fists. His body could withstand the pressure, but the weight of Atem's dominance was undeniable.
"I rule Eterna," Atem declared, his cloak flaring behind him, golden energy swirling like a storm. "And no one — not even a fellow Demon Lord — dares move within it without my word."
The entire fortress trembled again as if the world itself acknowledged his claim.
This was not a negotiation.
This was Pharaoh's judgment.
The atmosphere trembled like a drumbeat of doom. Atem stood in the center of Dagruel's great hall, black and gold garments flowing as if caught in a storm that no one else could feel. His eyes glowed like molten gold, sharp and burning with divine fury. The spirit monsters behind him—Dark Magician, Black Luster Soldier, Magician of Black Chaos, and The Tricky—emitted a presence so oppressive that even the air seemed to kneel.
Dagruel gritted his teeth, trying to maintain his composure as the castle groaned and cracked under Atem's Pharaoh Authority. Glassord's hands twitched against the armrests of his chair, his breath coming in ragged gasps, and even Dagruel's top generals were on their knees, faces drenched in sweat.
Atem (coldly): "Dagruel… I gave you respect as a fellow ruler. But you've thrown that away the moment you acted without my permission. Do you truly believe you can send your sons into my domain as if Eterna is yours to touch?"
Dagruel's massive frame trembled.
Dagruel (strained voice): "Atem… listen, I—I only wanted them to—"
Atem (cutting him off, voice booming): "SILENCE."
The single word struck like a thunderclap. Cracks spread through the marble floor beneath Atem's feet. The chandelier above shattered into glittering shards that hung frozen in midair, caught between Atem's power and the crushing pressure of his aura.
Atem (low, dangerous): "You don't speak when I have not permitted you to."
The Dark Magician raised his staff, and dark energy coiled through the air like a living serpent, wrapping around Dagruel's throne. In a flash, the massive giant was ripped from his seat, forced to kneel despite his towering size. His generals gasped—never had anyone made Dagruel bend like this.
Glassord (terrified): "Brother—!"
Atem: "Stay where you are, Glassord. Interfere, and I'll erase your entire command before you even breathe."
The Magician of Black Chaos raised his hand. Gravity around Dagruel multiplied tenfold. The stone floor cracked beneath his knees as he groaned in pain, his powerful arms pressed against the invisible weight.
Dagruel (gasping): "Ghh—Atem…!"
Atem slowly stepped forward, every footstep echoing like judgment itself. His eyes never softened—not even a flicker of mercy.
Atem (stern): "This isn't about your sons. This is about respect. You will not forget your place. I am not someone you disregard."
A golden circle of hieroglyphs flared beneath Dagruel—a Pharaoh Seal. Streams of spiritual energy wrapped around him like chains, scorching his mana circuits. Dagruel roared as a surge of divine pressure slammed into him, forcing his head to bow lower.
Atem (commanding): "Feel this, Dagruel. Remember it well. This is but a fraction of what happens to those who cross my line."
The Black Luster Soldier raised his blade and slashed through the air—not to harm, but to carve a line of pure energy in front of Dagruel's throne. The entire castle shook as if reality itself had been cut. It was a warning carved into the land itself.
Dagruel was panting heavily now, his massive body pressed to the ground. Sweat poured down his temples. Even for someone as strong as him, Atem's authority was absolute. Irresistible. Unquestionable.
Atem (calm but dangerous): "You're lucky this is just a lesson. Next time, there won't be a warning."
Atem snapped his fingers. Instantly, the golden seals vanished, the spiritual chains broke, and the monsters stepped back. The pressure lifted like a curtain being torn away. Dagruel collapsed forward, his breath ragged, but his pride crushed even more than his body.
Dagruel (hoarse whisper): "…Understood."
Atem turned his back on him without another glance. His cape fluttered, and the glowing eyes of his monsters followed his every movement with silent reverence.
Atem (without looking back): "Do not test me again."
The Pharaoh Dragon Haki pulsed one final time, shaking the entire fortress like the roar of a god. And then—Atem vanished into golden light, leaving the entire hall silent, broken, and trembling.
Dagruel remained on his knees, his generals frozen, Glassord pale. None dared to speak for several breaths. The warning had been made clear.
The Pharaoh King had shown mercy.
But next time… there would be none.