The Molting of Doviscus: Descent into True Essence
The air in the obsidian chamber was no longer thick with Mana; it was violently charged, crackling with raw, focused energy that screamed against Darkiel's heightened senses. The Level 150 Overlord, Doviscus, stood reeling, the sight of its ruined crystalline carapace an insult to its eternal existence. The thirty-six catastrophic strikes delivered by the Soul Devourer had reduced half its body to a fractured, smoking ruin, and the initial, arrogant contempt was replaced by a cold, searing fury.
Doviscus did not immediately launch a retaliatory strike. Instead, it performed a transformation so profound, so devastatingly beautiful, that it sent a new wave of shock into the Academy's monitoring wing.
A blinding violet light erupted from the Overlord's shattered Essence Core. The damaged crystalline armor, the jagged, shadow-like carapace that had absorbed 50% of Darkiel's attack, began to melt and slough away. It fell to the floor, not as shards, but as liquid shadow that instantly dissolved into the obsidian.
The creature revealed beneath was smaller—roughly twelve feet tall—but possessed a terrifying purity of form. Its body was now composed entirely of Luminous Mana, a dense, shimmering essence that pulsed with the light of a distant, malignant star. Its shape shifted, coalescing into something reptilian—a bipedal dragonoid figure, its head crowned with razor-sharp, backward-sweeping horns, its eyes burning with pure, liquid purple flame.
The voice that emerged was no longer a rolling resonance, but a sharper, higher-pitched, and far more ancient tone, laced with a chilling, draconic echo.
"Bloodline Awakening!" Doviscus shrieked, the sound rippling through the chamber and briefly overwhelming Darkiel's sensory inputs. "You thought to defeat me with base Kinetic Force? Foolish man! That form was merely the Essence Sink—the defense against brute strength! Now, I shed the shell of my resistance and embrace the purity of my Reality Authority! I am Doviscus, the Scion of the Void Dragon Bloodline! And I feast on pure Mana, Essence, and the despair of inferior life forms!"
The air around Doviscus became a whirlpool of violet and purple energy. He was no longer an Essence Sink absorbing kinetic energy; he was a Mana Fountain, radiating pure, destructive arcane power designed to incinerate physical existence. The challenge was no longer to break a shield, but to survive an elemental storm.
Darkiel, still tasting his own blood—the unhealed, searing agony in his chest serving as his painful motivator—gripped the Soul Devourer. He knew this was the true fight. His STR 100,000 was now pitted against an enemy that defied physical engagement, a creature of pure energy.
"A change in form only reveals a change in fear," Darkiel stated, his voice calm despite the violent shift in the atmosphere. "You admit my first strike crippled you. Now, let us see if your lineage can withstand the Emperor's Martial Art."
Doviscus roared, a sound that split the air like thunder. "The Arcana is superior, boy! You are meat and bone! I am Pure Essence! Witness the power of true Level 150 Authority!"
The Academy's Cascade of Fear
In the Greyhart Logistics Wing, the display of Doviscus's transformation caused a rapid, hysterical debate that drowned out the monitor's frantic warning sirens.
Dr. Lena Vasquez was staring at her Mana-spectrometry console, her eyes wide with mounting horror. "The… the signature! It's gone from a Tier-3 Crystalline Shell composition to a Tier-5 Arcane Sentience! Its defensive metrics are now near zero for kinetic resistance, but its Mana output just multiplied by a factor of six! It's radiating pure Void Arcana! This is the Bloodline Awakening! The Overlord is actively selecting a form to counter Darkiel's unique physical power!"
Professor Halen was hyperventilating, his voice barely a squeak. "It's a checkmate! Darkiel's MNA is zero! He cannot generate the counter-Mana necessary to protect himself from the Void Arcana! His 100,000 WSD might help him avoid direct control, but it won't stop the molecular disintegration! He is going to be evaporated!"
Dean Valerius Thorne slammed his fist onto the console, the sound cracking like a pistol shot in the tense room. "We must abort! Override the Gate protocol! Initiate the Code Omega extraction sequence! We cannot allow the heir of the Mikado name to be obliterated by a Level 150! The political fallout will level the Academy and potentially the entire continent!"
He turned to Carmilla, his eyes pleading. "Dr. Crimson, you are his advisor! Initiate the shutdown! Use your authority!"
Dr. Carmilla Crimson did not move. She stood rigid, her shoulders hunched, watching the screen where the crystalline fragments of Doviscus's armor dissolved into smoke. Her face was pale, reflecting the blinding purple light of the transformed Overlord.
"The override will not work, Dean," Carmilla said, her voice a hollow whisper, devoid of its usual sharpness. "The Helios Gate is a Five-Star Nexus. When an Overlord undergoes a Bloodline Awakening, it asserts absolute control over the dimensional link. We are locked out. We can only watch now."
She slowly turned, meeting the Dean's frantic gaze, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "And even if we could pull him out, Dean, do you think he would allow it? Do you think the man who bore two hundred kilograms of agony for five years to achieve this moment would accept a surrender? No. He spoke his truth: he is here to erase."
Elias, the young aide, spoke up from the corner, his face ashen. "But… he's Level 30! The difference… the difference is a hundred and twenty Levels! Doviscus is now using Tier-5 Arcane Slicing! Those blasts cut through Mana Shields like paper! How can a Level 30 with no Mana block that?"
Professor Halen threw his hands up in despair. "He can't! He can't! He can only rely on his AGI 100,000 to dodge, but the attacks will saturate the entire area! He needs the Emperor's Martial Art to convert the Mana into harmless Ki, but he's already half-injured! The Will of the Emperor only healed half the internal trauma! Any defensive slip-up will be fatal!"
Carmilla finally broke, her composed posture crumbling. She stumbled back two steps and collapsed into a nearby chair, burying her face in her hands. The deep, wrenching sobs were silent, but the sudden collapse of her rigid self-control was more devastating to the faculty than the display of Darkiel's attributes had been.
"He is going to die," she choked out, the words raw and laced with terrible conviction. "He is going to die, and it will be because the System he despises gave this monster the perfect counter to his Ki. He has done the impossible, and now… now he faces the absolute limit of his bloodline. He has lost."
The Dean looked at Carmilla—the cold, calculating Dr. Carmilla Crimson—weeping in terror, and the reality of the situation solidified for him. It was not just a threat to his job or the Academy; it was the final, tragic end of a prodigy who should have ruled the world. The entire Logistics Wing fell into a silent, despairing tableau, watching the screen as if waiting for the final curtain.
The Arcane Assault and the Bloody Kneel
In the chamber, Doviscus, now a terrifying scion of Void Essence, was moving. He launched the first wave of his true attack—not a single blow, but a sustained barrage of Arcane energy.
"Die, Mikado! Dimensional Slice!"
Doviscus swept his newly formed, razor-sharp claws through the air. The action did not produce Mana bolts, but rather pure spatial lacerations—invisible, hyper-focused blades of Mana that sliced the very atmosphere. These energy blades covered the dome in a deadly, crisscrossing net, making evasion seem utterly futile.
Darkiel responded instantly, his AGI 100,000 kicking into overdrive. His feet left silent, shimmering after-images as he danced through the terrifying grid of invisible cuts. He didn't just dodge the lines of energy; he dodged the micro-adjustments in air pressure, the faint shimmers of polarized space that signaled the Arcane path.
But even with his absolute agility, the sheer volume and speed of the Overlord's Tier-5 attack were overwhelming. He was constantly forced to shift his body at impossible angles, pushing his internal musculature to the breaking point.
Flicker!
A spatial blade grazed his left shoulder. It didn't cut his skin, but the pure Mana infusion instantly burned the fabric of his uniform, leaving a painful, smoking line of char across his shoulder blade.
Flash!
Another strike, deflected by the flat of the Soul Devourer, sent a shockwave of cold, paralyzing Mana straight up the blade and into his hands. Darkiel grit his teeth, the pain momentarily dulling his senses.
The Overlord was taunting him, his voice high and triumphant. "You are fast, whelp! Faster than any creature I have faced! But your speed is finite! You are running on meat! I run on Essence! You will tire! You will slip! And when you do, your bones will turn to ash!"
Darkiel's internal pain was no longer a dull ache; it was a screaming, fiery focus. The half-healed internal trauma from the first strike was violently aggravated by the continuous defensive strains. Every desperate twist, every kinetic correction, sent fire through his chest cavity.
He knew he couldn't sustain this defense. He needed to close the distance, but the continuous, full-room slicing attack made any straight-line approach a death sentence.
He tried a feint, utilizing his Emperor's Martial Art to deflect one of the Mana blades downward, intending to use the resulting kinetic recoil to propel him toward Doviscus.
But the Overlord was Level 150 for a reason—it was tactically intelligent.
"Predictable! The Ki-Redirect is useless against Pure Void Arcana!"
Doviscus had anticipated the move. It stopped the spatial slicing, concentrating all its Essence into one massive, fist-sized ball of shimmering purple energy, and launched it directly at Darkiel's midline.
The attack was not fast; it was instantaneous—a Mana-teleportation of pure force.
Darkiel had no time to bring the Soul Devourer up. His internal Decree registered the mortal threat, pushing his WSD to calculate a perfect counter, but his physical form simply couldn't obey in time.
BOOM!
The purple Mana sphere impacted Darkiel directly in the already damaged chest. It was not a kinetic blow, but an Essence Shockwave that violently compressed his half-healed internal organs. The impact lifted Darkiel entirely off his feet. He flew backward fifteen meters, slamming into the obsidian wall with a sickening, crunching sound that was amplified horribly by the drone's microphone.
The Soul Devourer clattered onto the floor, skittering several feet away from his limp body.
Darkiel slid down the wall, his uniform now ripped and scorched, his hair matted with blood. He hit the ground hard, gasping for air, the agony in his chest absolute. His limbs tried to move, but the Arcane shock had temporarily paralyzed his nervous system.
He was on his knees.
In the Academy, the sight of Darkiel, the invincible Emperor, kneeling, shattered, and disarmed, was the final blow to their sanity.
The Vow of Absolute Sovereignty
Doviscus moved slowly, relishing the moment, its dragonoid features twisted in victorious malice. It walked toward the kneeling figure, the ground steaming beneath its Mana-charged feet.
"Kneel, pathetic human!" Doviscus sneered, raising its clawed hand, preparing to deliver a final, slow-motion execution strike. "Your Emperor Class is a myth! Your 100,000 Strength is a lie! In the face of true Arcana, you are merely a stain on the floor! Now, witness your end and despair!"
Darkiel's body was screaming in protest. The internal trauma was total, and the Arcane paralysis was gripping his nerves. He knew that one more hit—any hit—would shatter his Will of the Emperor's ability to re-knit his reality.
But in the deep, silent core of his being, Darkiel Mikado was not defeated.
He forced his chin up. His eyes, though flickering with pain, focused entirely on the Overlord, ignoring the shimmering purple doom descending upon him.
He was bleeding again, a fresh gout of blood trickling from his lips, but he forced the words out, low, raw, and utterly defiant—a voice that was both a desperate gasp and an eternal command.
He used the Decree—not for combat, but for pure assertion of self. The power drained from his reserves, ignoring the pain, fueled only by the sheer, terrifying intent to survive and conquer.
"I… I am Mikado," Darkiel whispered, the sound too quiet for the drone to fully capture, but the sheer Will behind the words somehow made the Overlord pause.
Darkiel pushed, fighting the physical constraints of his paralysis, forcing his spine to straighten a fraction of an inch, his eyes burning into the Overlord's. The black Emperor's Aura, momentarily extinguished by the Arcane blast, flared back to life around him—a tiny, defiant shadow against the Overlord's purple light.
He pushed the words out, louder now, the conviction in his voice building like a tsunami.
"I am Mikado, the Emperor! And I shall not fall nor lose, because I am the strongest—past, present, and future!"
The force of his declaration, an absolute assertion of the Mikado Will, hit the Overlord like a tangible wall. Doviscus staggered back a single step, the sheer Authority of the words temporarily overriding its Level 150 aggression.
Then, fueled by this absolute, world-bending Vow, Darkiel performed the impossible. He ignored the shattered state of his body and stood. Slowly, agonizingly, with a soundless crackle of black Ki, he leveraged his Emperor's Aura to lock his bones into an unyielding, upright position. He was not healed, but he was standing.
He stared at Doviscus, now towering over him, and slowly, deliberately, began to walk toward the fallen Soul Devourer.
The Cacophony of the Academy's Despair (Gossips and Conversations)
In the Academy Logistics Wing, the faculty was in utter pandemonium.
Dr. Carmilla Crimson was still slumped in the chair, her face streaked with tears, watching the raw, bloody defiance on the screen.
Dean Thorne was pacing back and forth, tearing at his hair. "That declaration! That will! It's insane! He has no hope! He is fighting with a damaged core against Void Essence! It's a suicide pact! Halen! Give me a realistic probability of survival right now!"
Professor Halen was frantically re-calibrating the Damage Absorption Index, his fingers shaking as he worked the controls. "Zero, Dean! Objectively, statistically, zero! His internal integrity is at 30%! He is running on pure Willpower, not physics! We are watching a mental collapse disguised as defiance! He needs Mana to counter the Arcana, and he has none! None!"
Dr. Vasquez, tears streaming down her own face, disagreed fiercely. "No, Halen! You're still thinking in statistics! That Emperor's Aura! Did you see it? It's not dissipating the Mana; it's absorbing its authority! He just forced a Level 150 Overlord to hesitate with a single sentence! His WSD 100,000 is not just wisdom; it's Dominion! He is asserting the authority of the Mikado bloodline over the dimensional existence of the Overlord! The fight is lost, but the Will remains!"
As the core team debated the impossible physics, the lower-level analysts and technicians, the Gossips of the Academy, began to talk amongst themselves in hushed, terrified tones, their fear manifesting as manic chatter.
Technician Lira (Level 42 Analyst): "Did you hear him? 'I am the strongest!' He actually said it! Do you think he knows he's Level 30? He must be delusional from the Arcane impact. Maybe the Mana has fried his brain."
Aide Mark (Level 28 Data Entry): "Level 30? Mark, he has 100,000 STR! That's not delusion; that's a System override! They've been hiding the true Emperor Class! Five years of lies! He's going to get his revenge on the Dungeons and then come back and expose the Dean! I heard his family was killed by a Covert Ops team, not a Void Eater!"
Logistics Officer Jenkins (Level 55 Security): "Quiet, you fools! The bloodline awakening of a Void Dragon Scion is a global event! This will change the Dimensional Authority Structure! If Mikado dies, the Gate will expand, and we will be responsible! And look at Dr. Crimson! I've never seen her cry! She looks like her entire world just ended! He must be truly dead meat!"
Professor Eldon Hayes, the grizzled Earth Weaver who had been silent, suddenly slammed his fist on the table, silencing the chatter. "Silence! You are talking about the end of an Era! The boy is not delusional, Mark; he is stating the fundamental truth of the Mikado bloodline! The Decree is a total commitment! It means he has already calculated the necessary steps to win, even from this position! He is going for the Soul Devourer! He intends to engage the Void Dragon Scion in melee combat! It's the only way to bypass the pure Arcana defense—to make the Arcana physical!"
Dean Thorne slowly looked up, his eyes meeting Carmilla's tear-filled gaze. "He's right. Darkiel is retrieving his weapon. He is going to force a physical fight with a pure energy form. If the Soul Devourer can't bypass that Essence, this is the final, bloody second of his life."
Doviscus, enraged by Darkiel's defiance, roared again, its consciousness having finally broken the brief lock of the Decree. It launched a thousand shimmering, crystalline missiles—not Arcane, but physicalized Mana shards—directly at Darkiel's struggling form.
Darkiel reached the Soul Devourer, his fingers closing around the black hilt just as the storm of shards enveloped him. He was ready to meet the storm, bloodied, broken, but utterly standing.
The Emperor's Contempt and the Dragon's Scorn
The crystalline missiles—physicalized Mana shards launched by the enraged Doviscus—were screaming towards Darkiel, who had just managed to close his hand around the hilt of the fallen Soul Devourer. His body, still locked into its upright position by the sheer, agonizing force of the Emperor's Aura, was vibrating from internal trauma. The new form of the Overlord, the Scion of the Void Dragon Bloodline, stood twelve feet tall, emanating a purple, consuming malice that made the very air boil.
Doviscus watched Darkiel, not with fear, but with a renewed, condescending arrogance. It saw a human who had only delayed the inevitable, a broken warrior who had spent his final, impossible trump card. The Overlord's voice, a grating, high-pitched screech of pure malice, echoed through the vast obsidian dome, drowning out the whine of the incoming Mana shards.
"Stand, worm? You call this standing?" Doviscus sneered, tilting its great, horned head. Its massive, clawed hand, still raised for the execution strike, flickered with anticipation. "You are a scarecrow of blood and bone, held together by sheer, infantile rage! I peeled away your inner shield with a single touch, Mikado! I broke the Will of the Emperor—it failed to fully heal you! You are running on less than 30% functional integrity! Strongest? You cannot even stand still, you worm! You are a mockery of the power you claim! Kneel, and be absorbed!"
Darkiel did not look at the incoming shards, nor did he look up at the towering monster. He focused solely on the cold, solid grip of the Soul Devourer in his hand. The scorn and taunts of Doviscus were merely the static of a dying reality. He knew the creature spoke the truth—the Will of the Emperor had reached its limit against the Level 150 Arcana. His defense would fail. The Arcane shards would turn his already compressed organs into fine, biological dust.
"Arrogance is the fatal flaw of all Overseers, Doviscus," Darkiel stated, his voice a low, steady rumble, finally looking up. The Emperor's Aura pulsed, not with light, but with an absolute refusal to yield. "You judge my strength by my injury. I judge yours by the half of your body I still need to erase. Your Bloodline Awakening was not a tactical advantage; it was a desperate confession of fear."
Before Doviscus could launch a final counter-taunt, before the thousand physicalized Mana shards could impact Darkiel's body, a new entity entered the conversation.
The Soul Devourer's Pact
The Soul Devourer, the jet-black katana in Darkiel's hand, did not merely hum. It screamed—a silent, internal frequency that only Darkiel and the highly sensitive monitoring equipment in the Academy registered. A sudden, cold, dark light erupted from the ancient blade, followed by a dense, swirling cloud of vaporous, crimson-tinged smoke that wrapped around Darkiel's hand and forearm like a living shroud.
The voice that emerged was not spoken from the air, but resonated directly within the core of Darkiel's being, overriding the agonized screaming of his nerves. It was a voice like the grinding of tectonic plates, ancient and impossibly powerful, a memory of a thousand battles fought and won under the Mikado banner.
"Halt, Scion of the Void! Your dominion ends here!" the voice thundered, radiating from the blade itself.
Doviscus, shocked into immobility, recoiled again, its luminous purple Essence flickering with genuine terror. "What… what thing speaks?! That blade! It has a Will of its own! I know that energy! It is Kinetic Divinity! A Tier-8 Weapon! Impossible! The System would have marked it! It is forbidden!"
The Soul Devourer, now shimmering with profound, dark power, addressed Darkiel, the sound cold and absolute.
"Over hundreds of years of Mikado history, you are the only one worthy to awaken me, Last Heir."
The crimson-tinged smoke solidified slightly, forming strange, shifting runes over Darkiel's skin.
"You, who endured the Kinetic Compression Agony for five rotations. You, who mastered the Emperor's Decree through sheer, cold intent. You, who used the Verdict not for destruction, but for calculation and control. You forced a Level 150 Overlord to kneel through Will alone. You have proven the absolute sovereignty of the Mikado bloodline."
The sword's voice was filled with a reverence that transcended emotion. "The System defines me as a weapon. But I am the Heart of the Emperor's Power. I shall no longer be your weapon, a tool separate from your blood. I offer you the final truth of the Mikado lineage."
The dark light intensified, bathing Darkiel in a cocoon of black and crimson.
"Accept my pact, for I shall not be your weapon anymore, but for me to engrave unto your soul and be your true Soul Weapon!"
Darkiel, facing imminent death from the Mana shards and the absolute destruction of his internal structure, looked at the black blade. He felt the ancient, overwhelming authority of the sword's consciousness offering him an eternity of power in exchange for an eternal bond. It was the only possible answer to the Void Dragon's Essence. He did not hesitate. He did not ask questions.
"I accept."
The word was a vow, a declaration, and a contract. The moment it left his lips, the black system window flashed violently, not with text, but with the terrifying, silent symbol of the Mikado sigil—a single, unblinking black eye within a crown of cold iron.
The Soul Devourer did not change in physical appearance, but its essence transformed. The metal blade seemed to melt into pure liquid shadow, not flowing away, but sinking into Darkiel's grip. The hilt fused seamlessly with his palm, and the crimson smoke vanished, only to reappear as a complex, swirling black tattoo that instantly covered his entire right arm, wrist, and hand.
The Soul Devourer had become his Soul Weapon, no longer subject to physics, no longer a sword, but an extension of his very being.
The Mana shards that had been hurtling toward him—the thousand instruments of death—reached the location where Darkiel stood. But the Soul Weapon had rendered him momentarily untouchable. The shards simply dissolved, hitting the black Ki-infused surface of his newly consecrated body and instantly converting into harmless streams of smoke that dissipated into the air.
The Essence of Life: A Desperate Conversion
Darkiel felt the immediate, total relief of the Soul Weapon's connection—the weapon's power was now his power, and its eternal durability was now his final, ultimate defense. But his internal state was still catastrophic. The pain remained a screaming focus, and his organ function was at its absolute limit.
He needed life force. He needed to win this second strike, or he would bleed out from the first.
Darkiel commanded his Black System with the unyielding authority of the Decree. He knew exactly what he possessed and what he needed.
His focus turned to the deepest reserve of his abnormal status—the Reality Essence (RE), the incomprehensibly rare resource accumulated from his five years of agonizing self-compression, which allowed him to manipulate the very System's rules. He had 3,000 Reality Essence remaining—a fortune of cosmic power.
"Convert all. Now," Darkiel commanded internally.
The Black System obeyed instantly. A terrifying, silent energy transfer began. The 3,000 Reality Essence did not convert into Mana or Ki; it converted into pure, biological stability. The RE became the ultimate scaffolding, forcibly rebuilding, re-knitting, and fusing every damaged cell, every ruptured vessel, and every compressed organ in his body.
The pain vanished instantly.
In the Academy Logistics Wing, the metrics board went completely insane.
Dr. Lena Vasquez shrieked, pointing at the health readout for the Mikado profile, which had been flickering dangerously near 30% Internal Integrity.
"The health reading! It's spiking! It's not just healing! It's re-establishing maximum integrity!" Vasquez screamed, frantic but ecstatic. "From 30% to… to 300,500 HP! What in the nine hells is a Reality Essence Conversion?! He just gained three hundred thousand health points! His base HP was only five hundred! He's gone from a wounded Level 30 student to a Super-Tank with a health pool comparable to a Level 120 Archon!"
Professor Halen was staring, his mouth agape. "Three hundred thousand… a forced, instantaneous Life-Force Infusion! He used the RE to literally buy a new lease on life! He's full health, and now he has the kinetic durability to withstand the Dragon's Mana! The vulnerability is gone!"
Dr. Carmilla Crimson, who had been frozen in despair, lifted her head. Her face, still wet with tears, was now a mask of fierce, manic relief. "He accepted the Soul Pact! That was the legendary Soul Devourer's Awakening! It grants the host ultimate durability and renders the weapon's kinetic force a direct extension of the Decree! Doviscus is facing not just a warrior, but the entire, self-sustaining Mikado lineage!"
The Second Verdict and the Infinite Strike
Darkiel stood tall, his body whole, his energy reserves replenished, the Soul Weapon fused to his hand, and the knowledge of his massive new health pool giving him a terrifying, final confidence. He looked at Doviscus, who was still trying to process the impossibility of the Soul Pact.
And in that moment, the Black System flashed a simple, critical notification: Emperor's Verdict (Cooldown Cleared).
It had been precisely three seconds since the cooldown had completed. Darkiel had used his agony, the Soul Pact, and the Essence Conversion to wait for this exact instant.
"Your arrogance ends now, Doviscus," Darkiel said, a soundless, chilling laugh in his voice.
"Emperor's Verdict."
The ultimate assertion of Will hit the Dragonoid Scion again. Doviscus, its Mana core still reeling from the shock of the Soul Devourer's Awakening, was completely unprepared. The Level 150 Overlord was instantly silenced and frozen for the second time, rigid, poised in a ridiculous posture of attempted dominance.
"No! Not again!" Doviscus's silent mental scream was pure agony, but its physical form was trapped.
Darkiel's internal clock began the countdown: Three Seconds of Absolute Authority.
And again, the Black System confirmed the timing of his perfected strategy: Emperor's Skill (Cooldown Cleared).
"Emperor's Skill."
The power to triple his kinetic output flared, amplifying the already monstrous STR 100,000 that was now delivered through the ultimate conduit: his Soul Weapon.
This was not a calculated strike to halve the monster's health. This was the execution of the final half of the original vow. This was an act of pure erasure.
Darkiel moved. He did not move with the frenetic speed of the first strike, but with a terrifying, fluid perfection. He was no longer trying to wound; he was trying to dismantle the creature at a molecular level.
The Soul Devourer—now a seamless extension of his will—moved at the speed of thought. It was a single, unstoppable blur of black light. Darkiel did not need to calculate the weak points; the Soul Weapon knew the geometry of Doviscus's Essence Core better than the Overlord itself.
He unleashed the full, unbridled fury of the Emperor's Martial Art. His movements were so fast that they transcended the ability of the drone's high-frame camera to track. The drone recorded only a continuous, solid ring of black energy around the frozen Overlord.
Slash. Slash. Slash.
A low movement to the joints: 30 strikes, multiplied to 90. A high movement to the horns: 50 strikes, multiplied to 150. A devastating, sustained flurry to the midline where the Essence Core pulsed: 500 strikes, multiplied to 1,500. A final, focused, circular movement to decapitate the Essence flow: 420 strikes, multiplied to 1,260.
In the blink of an eye—in less than the space of three full seconds—Darkiel had executed more than 1000 primary slashes, resulting in a catastrophic, kinetic impact of over 3,000 strikes against the frozen Void Dragon Scion.
The sound of the onslaught was not the metallic K-R-A-C-K of the first strike. It was a high-pitched, continuous screech of Essence tearing, like fabric being ripped through every dimension simultaneously.
The Spectacle of Erasure and the Academy's Relief
The monitoring drone's external shell began to melt from the sheer kinetic disturbance of the atmosphere. The screen flickered, showing only the blinding, continuous flash of black light intermingled with the violet Essence of the Overlord.
When the three seconds of the Emperor's Verdict finally elapsed, the attack ceased instantly, and the drone's camera, miraculously, restabilized.
The sight was absolute.
Doviscus, the Level 150 Overlord, the Scion of the Void Dragon Bloodline, was no longer a dragonoid figure. It was a shimmering, violet mist, held in place only by the rapidly dissipating Essence Core that Darkiel had targeted. The creature had been shredded into millions of component Mana particles, still technically alive, but utterly atomized.
The final health metric on the Overlord's profile, after surviving the initial 50.1% damage, now registered -99.999% HP.
The massive, ancient, and terrifying voice of Doviscus, the Level 150 Overlord, was heard for the final time. It was not a roar of fury, but a dying, shocked whisper.
"Impossible… the System… cannot measure… erasure…"
The mist collapsed inward, imploding with a silent, blinding flash of violet light, and vanished. The obsidian chamber was suddenly silent, the oppressive Mana pressure instantly relieved.
In the Academy Logistics Wing, the sound of cheering, sobbing, and hysterical chatter erupted, deafening the control room.
Dean Valerius Thorne dropped his data slate, staring at the empty chamber on the screen. His voice was a raw, choked sound, filled with a mix of disbelief and overwhelming relief.
"He… he did it. The Level 30 student… erased the Level 150 Overlord in under six seconds of total active engagement," the Dean stammered, wiping away tears of sheer emotional exhaustion. "He broke the Dimensional Authority twice! That Soul Pact! That Health Conversion! Vasquez! Recalculate his threat level! Now! Not to the Dungeons—to the global System! This is beyond Archon status! This is a Founding Myth come to life!"
Dr. Carmilla Crimson was laughing now, tears of joy streaming down her face as she watched the figure of Darkiel standing alone in the silent, massive chamber, the Soul Weapon dissolving back into the black tattoo on his arm.
"He is the Emperor, Dean," Carmilla stated, her voice thick with triumph. "He told you his identity. He told Doviscus the truth: I am the strongest. He simply proved it. And now, the true work begins. He will use the Decree to collapse that Gate, just as he promised."
The technicians and analysts, relieved of the terrifying burden of witnessing impending death, devolved into a cacophony of gossip and awe.
Technician Lira (Level 42 Analyst): "Did you see the health bar? Three hundred thousand HP! Where did that Reality Essence come from?! It's a resource only legendary Architects possess! He must have been storing that up for decades! How old is Mikado, really? Is he using Time Authority?"
Aide Mark (Level 28 Data Entry): "Forget his age! The Soul Devourer spoke! It's a Sentient Weapon! We witnessed a Tier-9 Artifact making a conscious pact! The rumors of the Mikado bloodline being chosen by the gods are true! He didn't fight; he performed a ritual of erasure! We are the witnesses of a new era of power! We are safe! The Gate is collapsing!"
Logistics Officer Jenkins (Level 55 Security): "Jenkins reporting! Gate stability is spiking and then dropping violently! The Nexus Core is destabilizing! He's doing it! He's collapsing the Five-Star Gate! Oh, thank the System! We are safe! We are actually safe! This is the greatest military victory in forty years!"
Professor Eldon Hayes: "No, Jenkins, we are not safe. We are relieved. We are now dealing with a single entity who has the power, the will, and the personal motive to dismantle the entire foundation of our dimensional reality. Mikado is not our savior; he is a force of nature. And now that the Overlord is gone, the only thing left to stop him is the System itself. We need to prepare, Dean. We need to understand what this means for the Emperor's Decree on a global scale. The game has changed forever."
Darkiel stood in the immense, empty chamber, the silence absolute. He closed his eyes, his breathing perfect, his pain gone. The vow was complete. He had erased the Overlord. Now, he turned his focus to the final act: the Helios Gate itself.