The battlefield was no longer a battlefield.
It was a grave.
A realm of glass and ruin, lit by the dying glow of molten rivers and the flicker of purple lightning that refused to fade. Obsidian towers lay twisted and snapped, like the bones of a fallen titan. Craters bled smoke into the air. Every breath carried the scent of scorched flesh and annihilation.
Then—
The skies ruptured.
Reality itself bent.
As if the realm had reached its breaking point, six divine lights tore through the heavens—descending not as men, but as something greater.
Gods.
The clouds spiraled outward, forming a massive vortex above the battlefield. Thunder rolled in reverse. The sun dimmed. Time itself seemed to hold its breath.
From this divine breach, six thrones of unimaginable power descended—trailing vast wings of elemental majesty.
The first to arrive scorched the earth. Thalor of House Thorne —the Earth Monarch. Skin like obsidian, voice like grinding stone. Each footstep split the ground, molten veins spilling from the cracks. Mountains seemed to bow to him. Unyielding.
Next, a tempest followed. Zephyra of House Caelis —Monarch of Wind. Hair like threads of lightning, eyes like endless skies. She hovered midair, her presence sweeping across the field like a hurricane made sentient. Her arrival erased gravity itself.
Then came silence—and shadows. Vorun of House Draven —Monarch of Darkness. A silhouette cloaked in a moving void, his form barely held together by the rules of existence. Where he walked, color drained. Light died. His voice could kill memory.
From the west, a silver tide surged. Elari of House Neris —Monarch of Water. Herpresence cooled the air instantly, extinguishing nearby flames. Rivers bent toward her. Wounds closed in her wake. Her gaze held sorrow and mercy—and judgment.
From the heavens, light reigned. Solene of House Luxar —Monarch of Light. Radiant wings of burning gold spread behind her. Her eyes glowed with law and legacy. Every breath from her lips was a command. Order incarnate.
And finally, the storm. Zevarion of House Virel —Monarch of Speed and Precision. He arrived as a streak of light and thunder, materializing only after the impact. His armor shimmered with refracted time. He didn't move fast—he bent the rules around motion.
All six Monarchs hovered above the battlefield. Their presence bent the world.
Every soldier,noble, and beast dropped to one knee—some in awe, others in terror.
And among them—Varion Ignar, the seventh Monarch, already present. Not among them. Before them. Bloodied. Cautious. Protective.
He knelt in front of Lady Sera and Kael Ignar, shielding them with his aura.
Lady Sera's face was pale, eyes locked on the crater. Kael trembled beside her, fists clenched, teeth grit.
Thalor's voice boomed across the silence. "Varion."
Solene followed with edge. "What in the name of the eternal veil has happened here?"
Zephyra surveyed the scorched and broken land. "This place was sacred. Now it bleeds."
Vorun's voice rasped like shattered glass. "I feel a presence here… wrong. Unnatural."
Elari stepped forward, her tone unreadable. "Explain."
Varion slowly rose, expression grim. "I… did not expect you all to come so soon."
Zevarion's eyes narrowed. "We were pulled here by force. Something tore through the barriers."
Varion gestured toward the epicenter of the ruined battlefield. The crater. The devastation. And at its heart—KlausAetherion.
Smoke coiled around him. Ash danced at his feet. He was shirtless, kneeling in fractured obsidian, his back slashed, ribs exposed, blood soaking the ground like ink. Yet, even in his broken state, the wind stirred at his presence—and faint flickers of violet lightning cracked along his arms.
Barely alive. But not dead.
Solene's eyes narrowed. "A human?"
Zephyra leaned closer, awe on her lips. "No… something else."
Elari spoke softly. "He should be gone. No body should hold that kind of current."
Vorun hissed. "He tore through my shadows."
Thalor growled. "He scarred the earth. This crater—it's not the result of war. It's the result of will."
Kael finally whispered, his voice ragged: "He did all this… alone."
Lady Sera clutched her son tighter, unable to look away.
Zevarion's voice cut in, cold and fascinated. "He's not just alive. He's resisting us."
Klaus stirred.
Faintly.
A twitch of his fingers. A flare of violet at his spine. He opened his eyes. White. Flickering.
The Monarchs braced, a shift of tension in the air. But Klaus didn't attack. He barely stood.
Lightning curled around his arms like serpents of static. Wind circled his feet. He looked at them. At gods. With no fear. No submission.
Only defiance.
Then—he spoke.
Voice ragged. Cracked. But unshaken.
"I may have fallen now…"
The Monarchs paused. The world held its breath.
"…but when I rise to the absolute peak—" His voice grew stronger. Fiercer. Rage flaring like solar fire.
"—don't think for a FUCKING SECOND… that this place… this empire… this illusion of control you've built— WILL REMAIN."
His eyes burned. Violet sparks danced.
"I'll tear down your skies. Shatter your thrones. And carve my name into the bones of this world."
His legs gave out. He collapsed.
Lightning fizzled. Wind fell silent.
And still—no one moved.
The Monarchs stood frozen. In shock. In silence. In awe.
Even gods felt fear.
The Monarchs remained still until
Zevarion: "He still breathes. Barely. And yet… the air refuses to touch him."
Elari: "That aura… it's a paradox. He's not just alive. He's becoming."
Varion: "He is a wound in the weave. Dangerous. Too dangerous to be left to heal." - looking up to the Monarchs
Varion then disappeared and appeared just infront of klaus's battered body
Varion raised his hand, fingers alight with divine fire.
Varion: "I'll end this."
But when he was about to...
The air changed.
Suddenly—violently—the skies roared.
Every Monarch turned.
The wind screamed—not just from above, but from every direction. Invisible blades began tearing through rock, slicing rubble into dust.
The very oxygen twisted away from Varions reach. His flames sputtered.
Klaus's body, broken and limp, hovered an inch above the ground. A tempest of invisible force swirled around him.
Scientifically—there was no oxygen.
The elemental manipulation of wind had vacuumed the air around him. No combustion. No flame. No breath. The space was death.
A dome of silent, screaming wind formed.
Every step toward him was suicide.
Varion hesitated.
Then—
A voice.
Desperate. Terrified.
"KLAUS!!"
Everyone turned.
A girl. A voice that cracked against the storm.
Sofie.
She screamed his name again, running forward until the winds nearly flung her back.
Inside the dome…
Klaus's body twitched. Blood trickled from his lips. One eye opened, barely.
His voice—shattered, broken, dying—reached across the chaos:
"Sofie…"
"…I'll come back… just wait."**
And then—
FLASH.
He vanished.
Gone.
No trace. No echo. Only wind.
Silence.
Solene: "Impossible…"
Thalor: "Did he just—?"
Varion: "The wind obeyed him to the end…"
Varion lowered his hand - speechless...
And in that moment, as ash still rained from the broken sky—
Every Monarch knew:
This was no mortal.
Klaus Aetherion… was the beginning of something far worse.
Something they could no longer ignore.