The sky burned red the night the Shadow King was betrayed.
Crimson clouds twisted above the obsidian towers of Noctyra, the capital forged in darkness and fear. Lightning crawled across the heavens like veins of a dying god, illuminating the battlefield below — a sea of corpses clad in black and silver.
At the center of it all stood the Shadow King.
His armor was shattered. Black blood streamed from the cracks, dripping onto the broken marble beneath his boots. The once-unshakable ruler of the Dark Dominion now breathed in ragged, uneven gasps.
Surrounded.
Not by enemies.
But by his own generals.
"Why?" His voice was hoarse, yet it carried the weight of a monarch who had ruled for centuries.
General Vael stepped forward, lowering his blade only slightly. "Because even shadows fear being devoured, Your Majesty."
A bitter smile curved beneath the king's cracked helm.
So this was how it ended.
Not in glorious conquest.
Not beneath the blades of rival kingdoms.
But by ambition… festering within his own throne room.
The rebellion had been meticulously planned. His spies silenced. His loyalists poisoned. Even the ancient shadow beasts bound to his will had been sealed away by forbidden light magic.
They had prepared for everything.
Everything — except one truth.
The Shadow King did not fear death.
He feared insignificance.
As the holy chains tightened around his limbs, searing his immortal flesh, fragments of memory surged through him — the day he first claimed the Crown of Dusk, the wars he had won, the cities that had knelt beneath his command.
Had he been a tyrant?
Yes.
Had he been merciless?
Without question.
But he had been strong.
And in this world, strength was justice.
A radiant spear of condensed light formed above the council's archmage, humming with divine authority. The execution weapon.
"This will erase your soul," the archmage declared. "There will be no reincarnation. No afterlife."
The king lifted his head.
Through the cracks of his broken helm, violet flames ignited in his eyes.
"You speak," he rasped, "as if you understand the nature of darkness."
The spear descended.
Light devoured everything.
For a moment, there was no pain.
Only silence.
Only void.
Then—
Something answered from within that void.
A pulse.
A whisper.
A throne made not of stone… but of endless shadow.
And a voice, ancient and amused:
"You are not finished yet."
The Shadow King's consciousness shattered—
—and was reborn.