The grand ceremonial hall of the Wings Realm glimmered beneath floating crystals suspended like frozen constellations. Their light refracted across ivory pillars and vaulted arches carved in the likeness of celestial wings, each rune etched with the history of conquest and dominion. Every breath drawn within the hall felt heavy—oppressive—not from fear, but from the convergence of overwhelming power.
The marriage ceremony was about to begin.
Monarchs had arrived from distant realms beyond the skies. The Monarch of Ashes reclined upon a throne of obsidian, embers drifting lazily from his presence. Nearby stood the Monarch of Wind, silent and unreadable, while Thunder and Sky conversed in low tones, their auras colliding like unseen storms. Kings and nobles filled the remaining seats, adorned in silks, jewels, and ceremonial armor—spectators to a union meant to redefine balance itself.
Music drifted through the hall, slow and formal, played by musicians whose hands moved from duty rather than passion. Servants glided between guests, offering rare wines and lavish starters. Laughter followed—thin, calculated, hollow.
"Didn't the Monarch of Shadow attend?" a noble whispered.
"He wasn't invited," another replied, lowering his voice. "Or perhaps… he was deliberately excluded."
A third leaned closer. "Then explain this. Isn't the bride—"
"The Shadow Monarch's general," someone finished grimly.
Silence rippled outward.
"How does a general of shadows become Queen of Wings?" another scoffed.
"Think," came the reply. "By sunrise, she will no longer be a general. She will be a symbol."
Eyes shifted toward the stage.
"Will the Monarch of Shadow come?" someone dared to ask.
Before an answer could form, laughter cracked through the air like burning wood.
The Monarch of Ashes leaned forward, his fiery gaze sharp with disdain.
"That so-called Shadow King?" he said. "A weakling. I still don't understand why the Eight Kings chose a zero-mana boy from all creation."
Several nobles laughed along, emboldened by his mockery.
The hall grew livelier as more guests arrived, confidence swelling with numbers and arrogance. After all, this was the Wings Realm—unrivaled, sovereign of the skies.
Then the atmosphere shifted.
The elite knights of Zeraphion entered.
They marched in perfect unison, spears gleaming, wings folded tight like drawn blades. Their armor radiated authority. They formed two immaculate lines leading to the stage.
Footsteps echoed.
Zeraphion Caelrex entered the hall.
The King of Wings walked with measured confidence, golden wings unfurling slightly behind him as light bent around his form. Every soldier slammed their spear to the floor in salute, the sound reverberating like thunder through the chamber.
Zeraphion ascended the stage and turned to face the assembly, pride carved into every line of his expression.
Then came the bride.
Noblewomen entered first, bearing the long white cloth of the ceremonial gown.
Yume followed.
Chains bound her wings, runes glowing faintly—seals suppressing her power entirely. Her steps were slow, burdened. Her eyes were red, marked by tears she refused to let fall again.
Yet her gaze remained steady.
Ren will come.
Not hope—certainty.
She stood beside Zeraphion.
The King of Wings raised his voice.
"Welcome, Monarchs, kings, nobles, and honored guests from every realm," Zeraphion declared. "I, Zeraphion Caelrex, thank you for bearing witness to this historic moment."
His golden eyes swept across the hall.
"Today is not merely the union of two beings," he continued, voice echoing through crystal and stone, "but the forging of a future that will reshape the balance of power."
He gestured toward the vaulted ceiling.
"For generations, the Wings Realm has stood alone—guarded by sky and blade. But from this day forward, we rise higher than ever before."
Zeraphion turned toward Yume.
"This woman is no ordinary bride," he announced. "She is a general who once served the Shadow Monarch. A warrior feared even among Monarchs."
Murmurs spread like cracks in glass.
"By accepting her," Zeraphion said coldly, "the Wings Realm claims not only her loyalty—but her strength."
He raised his hand.
"Let this marriage stand as a declaration. Any who challenge the Wings Realm will face not only our armies… but the combined might of sky and shadow."
Yume's lips curved faintly.
Challenge you?
Just wait.
The Monarch of Ashes laughed softly.
Zeraphion lifted his hand again.
"Let the ceremony begin—"
He stepped toward Yume, a ring gleaming between his fingers.
He reached for her hand.
She hesitated.
His grip tightened, forceful.
As he moved to place the ring—
The air collapsed inward.
Light dimmed.
Breath became difficult.
Every Monarch stiffened.
Then—
Clap. Clap. Clap.
A voice echoed from the entrance.
"Great speech, Zeraphion Caelrex."
The echo of the clapping lingered like a fracture in reality.
Every gaze in the grand hall turned toward the entrance.
The massive doors stood open, their rune-etched surfaces trembling as though resisting something far greater than themselves. From beyond them, a presence seeped inward—cold, absolute, and crushing. It was not merely darkness, but authority itself, bending the air into silent submission.
A single figure stepped forward.
Ren Akatsuki.
He walked without haste, his boots striking the marble floor in steady rhythm. With each step, the light in the hall dimmed further, shadows stretching unnaturally toward him as if answering a silent call. Monarchs stiffened in their seats. Even the floating crystals flickered.
Guards reacted on instinct.
Spears snapped toward Ren, wings flaring as they lunged.
They never reached him.
An invisible force erupted outward. In the span of a breath, bodies were hurled through the air like broken dolls. Armor shattered. Spears bent. Knights slammed into pillars and walls, their wings collapsing under the sheer pressure.
Silence swallowed the hall.
The Monarch of Ashes rose slowly, disbelief flickering through his burning gaze. The Monarch of Wind's expression tightened, instincts screaming. Thunder's aura crackled but did not advance.
Zeraphion stepped forward, his wings flaring wide.
"Who are you?" he demanded, voice sharp with authority.
Ren did not stop walking.
"You called every Monarch," Ren said calmly, his voice carrying without effort, "but you forgot the one whose general you stole."
He reached the foot of the stage and looked up, eyes cold and unwavering.
"I am the Ninth Shadow Monarch," he declared.
"Ren Akatsuki."
The Monarch of Ashes burst into laughter, flames roaring higher around him.
"You?" he mocked. "A weakling? What do you seek here, boy?"
Ren turned his head slightly, his gaze cutting like a blade.
"And you are?" he asked flatly.
"Just shut up. You trash talk too much."
Rage ignited instantly.
The Monarch of Ashes surged forward, power boiling—
A hand closed around his arm.
The Monarch of Wind stopped him, his voice low and urgent.
"Don't," he warned. "This is not our matter. If we interfere… we will all die."
The Monarch of Ashes froze.
Ren stepped onto the stage.
The chains binding Yume's wings shattered in an instant, runes exploding into fragments of light. The oppressive seal vanished as if it had never existed.
Yume's breath caught.
Her body moved before thought could follow.
"You—stop her!" Zeraphion shouted.
Too late.
Yume ran.
Tears streamed freely now as she reached Ren, throwing herself into his arms as though the world itself were collapsing behind her.
"You came," she whispered, voice breaking.
"I'm sorry," Ren replied quietly, his hand steady on her back. "I was late."
"It doesn't matter," she said, clinging to him. "I'm happy you came."
She pulled back just enough to look at him—and kissed him.
Shock detonated through the hall.
Nobles stared in disbelief. Monarchs watched in stunned silence. The musicians stood frozen, instruments slipping from trembling hands.
Zeraphion's face twisted, teeth grinding so hard they seemed ready to crack.
"What do you think you're doing?" he roared. "She is mine!"
Ren looked at him.
"When did you decide that?" he asked calmly.
Zeraphion opened his mouth—then closed it.
The silence was unbearable.
Fury erupted.
"Kill him!" Zeraphion commanded, his voice shaking the hall. "All of you—kill him!"
The sky above the hall split apart.
Dark clouds spiraled as a figure descended from the heavens, wings cutting through the air like executioner's blades.
"I apologize, my king," Althric's voice echoed, cold and unwavering, "but your army stands with him."
The floor trembled.
From the torn sky poured countless figures—Abyss soldiers, their armor black as void, eyes glowing with loyal fury. They landed in perfect formation, weapons ready, aura suffocating.
Zeraphion staggered back.
"Althric… but how?" Ren questioned.
A portal shimmered open behind the Abyss ranks.
Zyra stepped forward, sword humming with residual energy.
"I connected the realms," she said calmly. "It was easy."
Ren turned his head slightly toward her.
"Thank you," he said.
Then his gaze returned to the hall.
"Zyra—protect Yume," Ren ordered.
"Umbra," he continued coldly, "anyone who comes near her—kill them. Soldier or Monarch. No exceptions."
Umbra's shadow stretched, alive and eager.
Althric's eyes burned with restrained vengeance.
The Monarchs remained frozen.
The nobles could barely breathe.
The wedding hall—once filled with laughter and arrogance—now stood on the edge of annihilation.
The Ninth Shadow Monarch had arrived.
And the ceremony had transformed into a declaration of war.