The world trembled the moment the news spread across Earth.
A mysterious being—neither fully divine nor demonic—had appeared and vanished with Yume and Ren, tearing them away from reality as though existence itself had bent to its will. Panic rippled through nations, clans, and hidden orders alike. Old alliances resurfaced, forgotten legends were spoken aloud, and fear took shape in every whispered conversation.
Ren's parents stood in silent agony, their hearts pulled apart by dread. No one could answer the question clawing at their minds: where had they been taken, and by what kind of monster?
Time passed slowly, cruelly.
When Arden finally awoke, pain flared through his body, but it was nothing compared to the guilt that crushed his chest when he learned the truth. Yume was gone. Taken while he still breathed. His fingers curled into the sheets beneath him, shaking with restrained fury.
"I couldn't protect her," he murmured, his voice hollow. The words tasted like poison.
The room was filled with anxious murmurs as elders, warriors, and strategists argued desperately, searching for any path that could lead them to Yume and Ren. The air felt heavy—suffocating—with helplessness.
Then the atmosphere changed.
Three figures stepped forward from the shadows: Althric, Umbra, and Zyra. The moment Arden saw Althric, something inside him snapped. He surged forward and grabbed him by the collar, lifting him with raw, uncontrolled rage.
"You son of a bitch!" Arden shouted. "You were assigned to protect her! Because of your carelessness, Yume is gone!"
Althric did not fight back. His eyes lowered, shadowed by guilt far deeper than anger.
"Mr. Arden," he said quietly, "I failed. I couldn't protect her, and for that I apologize."
His voice did not tremble.
"But as the First General of the Abyss Army, it is my responsibility to bring them back."
The room froze.
"The… Abyss?" Arden demanded. "What are you saying? If you are Abyss, then why were you standing beside the Ninth King all this time?"
Althric's gaze sharpened.
"The King was right," he replied evenly. "You speak too much."
Arden stiffened.
"Ask your grandfather," Althric continued. "He will explain everything."
Releasing Arden's grip, Althric turned toward Kuro and Daiki, his presence commanding silence.
"In our presence," he said firmly, "both the Queen and the King were taken. That failure belongs to me. And I will correct it."
"But how will you reach them?" Kuro asked. "Where did they go?"
"I consulted Zyra," Althric answered. "Through the Abyss, one can travel to any realm."
"Then we'll go with you," Kuro said without hesitation.
Althric shook his head slowly.
"No," he said. "This burden is mine. And besides… I have unfinished business with Vael."
He turned away and began walking.
With every step, his aura grew heavier, darker, as if the shadows themselves were responding to his will. It was the presence of someone who had lost something irreplaceable—and intended to reclaim it without mercy.
When he reached Zyra and Umbra, his voice was calm, cold, and absolute.
"Open the gate," he said. "It's time the people of wings remember who they are provoking."
Zyra and Umbra raised their hands. The Abyss Gate tore open reality, swallowing light and sound alike, and the three vanished into darkness.
High above another sky, in the Realm of Wings, marble halls stretched endlessly beneath radiant spires.
Yume stood restrained in the grand throne hall when the Winged King entered.
The guards immediately released her and knelt, their wings folding in reverence.
Zeraphion Caelrex approached slowly, his presence filling the space like a divine judgment. His wings unfurled—vast, white-gold, etched with ancient authority.
"So," he said calmly, "you are the one chosen to become queen."
"What do you want from me?" Yume demanded, her voice steady despite the fear burning in her chest.
Zeraphion stepped closer and lifted her chin, his fingers brushing her cheek with possessive certainty.
"You are the first human ever chosen by the Wings," he said. "Now that you are here… you belong to me."
Yume slapped his hand away.
"I belong to no one," she said fiercely. "The only one I belong to is the Monarch of Shadows. And he will come for me."
Zeraphion laughed, amused.
"That weakling?" he mocked. "The one chosen by the Eight Shadow Monarchs? You truly believe he will save you?"
"I know he will," Yume replied without hesitation.
"Then hear this," Zeraphion said, his voice echoing through the hall. "Today, we will be married."
Shock froze her breath.
"I refuse," she said, power surging through her body as her wings flared. Shadow and light intertwined, forming a radiant golden shadow that wrapped around her like armor.
She prepared to fight.
Zeraphion merely observed her transformation, admiration briefly flickering in his eyes.
"Marvelous," he murmured. "Raw, unrefined strength. No wonder you were chosen."
Then his tone hardened.
"But you are weak."
The atmosphere shifted violently. Pressure crashed down upon Yume, forcing her knees to tremble.
"What… is this?" she whispered. "This power—it feels like mine…"
"Yes," Zeraphion replied calmly. "But I mastered it long ago."
Yume attacked, shadows surging forward as chains and blades struck toward him—
—and froze in midair.
With a single raised finger, Zeraphion commanded them.
"They obey me," he said. "You wield power through emotion. I wield it as law."
Invisible force hurled Yume into a pillar. Stone shattered. Pain exploded through her ribs. Blood stained her lips as she forced herself upright.
"I won't kneel," she said, defiant.
"You misunderstand," Zeraphion replied, approaching her slowly. "I don't require obedience today. Once we are bound… even your Shadow Monarch will bow."
At Ren's name, something burned fiercely inside her.
"He is not what you think," Yume whispered. "He is death itself."
Her strength failed. Darkness closed in.
She collapsed.
Zeraphion Caelrex stood in silence, gazing down at Yume's unconscious form.
The golden shadow that had once surrounded her faded slowly, dissolving into the cold marble floor like dying embers. Her breathing was shallow, her expression frozen between defiance and pain. For a moment, the Winged King said nothing. His wings folded behind him, vast and unmoving, as if the very air awaited his judgment.
"Vael," Zeraphion finally spoke, his voice low and measured. "Tell me the truth."
From the shadows near the pillars, Vael stepped forward and knelt.
"This Shadow Monarch she speaks of," Zeraphion continued. "Is he truly that formidable?"
Vael hesitated, his jaw tightening. "My liege, I have not crossed blades with him. But when I encountered him… the atmosphere itself shifted. His presence does not overwhelm through darkness. He does not amplify it."
"Then what does he do?" Zeraphion asked.
"He commands shadow itself," Vael answered. "As if it is an extension of his will."
Zeraphion's eyes narrowed. "And?"
Vael lowered his head further. "He bears the title of Dread Monarch."
For the first time in centuries, Zeraphion felt something unfamiliar crawl down his spine.
A chill.
Then, slowly, his lips curved upward into a smile—sharp, deliberate.
"So," Zeraphion murmured, "the Eight Shadow Monarchs did not choose a weakling. They chose a creature that rules over death itself."
He turned back to Yume. "Interesting," he whispered. "Very interesting."
Far below reality's surface, the Abyss stirred.
Ancient structures rose from endless darkness, carved from obsidian and void. Massive gates groaned open as legions assembled—warriors clad in blackened armor, their eyes glowing with cold purpose.
Althric walked through the abyssal halls, his presence commanding absolute silence. It had been a long time since he had returned, and the realm responded to him as though welcoming its rightful master.
"It has been a while," Zyra said, appearing beside him. "I made changes during your absence."
Althric glanced at her. "Explain."
"I anticipated the King would one day need to travel between realms," she said. "So I reinforced the gates. Many realms are now connected. The system is still incomplete, but functional."
Althric nodded once. "Good foresight."
Before Zyra could reply, Umbra approached.
"Althric," Umbra said. "The army is ready."
Behind him stood a force vast enough to swallow worlds—rows upon rows of abyssal soldiers, weapons humming with restrained power.
Althric's gaze hardened.
"Then we move," he said. "Cut down every wing that dares stand in our way."
The Abyss answered with silence—and readiness.
Elsewhere, far from the Realm of Wings, Ren lay unconscious in a modest shelter hidden between broken cliffs.
Time passed quietly.
When Ren finally stirred, pain rippled through his body, dull and heavy. He forced his eyes open and found two children staring at him—wide-eyed, curious.
A man stepped forward, calm and composed.
"I am Theron," he said. "You collapsed near our home."
Ren tried to rise, but weakness surged through him, forcing him back down.
"What happened to my body?" Ren asked, his voice strained.
"You traveled through a portal your body wasn't prepared for," Theron replied. "Your power kept you alive."
Ren's eyes sharpened. "You know why I'm here."
Theron nodded. "You are here to save the girl taken by the Winged King."
Ren froze.
"She will be married tonight," Theron continued. "By force. Kings from other realms are already gathering."
Ren pushed himself up again, teeth clenched, but staggered.
Theron placed a hand on his shoulder. "Your power hasn't fully returned yet. Eat first. Then go."
Ren studied him carefully. "Why help me?"
Theron was silent for a long moment. Then he said, "Because you were a guest. And guests are not abandoned."
Food was placed before Ren. He ate quickly, feeling strength surge back into his limbs. Shadows coiled instinctively around him, responding eagerly.
His torn clothes dissolved into darkness, reforming into a long black coat, a fitted turtleneck, dark pants, and combat boots. His presence sharpened, his aura heavy and cold.
Ren stood.
He knelt briefly before the children, patting their heads. "Thank you," he said.
They smiled brightly and waved as he turned to Theron.
"I will return the favor someday," Ren said.
Theron nodded. "Do what belongs to you."
Ren stepped outside, rose into the sky, and vanished in a surge of shadow.
Back in the Realm of Wings, moonlight flooded the highest chamber.
Yume stood bound in ceremonial garments, her wings restrained, her strength sealed. The sounds of preparation echoed faintly beyond the doors—music, voices, celebration for a union she had never chosen.
Tears slid silently down her cheeks as she stared at the full moon beyond the balcony.
"Ren…" she whispered. "I'm waiting. Please come."
High above, the sky darkened unnaturally.
Shadows gathered.
And across realms, the Dread Monarch began to move.