Far beyond the battlefield—Past human kingdoms, demon realms, and even the sky itself—There was a Throne.
It sat on top of a palace made of black fire and glowing stone, floating in the empty space between worlds.
Above it? Not a sky.More like an ocean of stars that blinked like living eyes—watching, always watching.
And on that Throne, something moved.
No name.No real shape.Just a crown made of shadows, a voice like cracking glass, and a presence that had been there since the first time someone picked up a sword in anger.
Not a god.Worse.
And now?
Something had made it stand.
A whisper slid through the void:
"The battlefield is gone."
Pause.
Something in the void shifted.
"It wasn't destroyed. Wasn't won. It was just… erased."
Silence again.
And for the first time in ten thousand years—The Throne of Conflict felt something it wasn't built to feel.
Fear.
After the War That Never Happened
Back on the ground—
Arthur and the crew walked across what should've been a battlefield.
Except there was nothing.
No blood.No bodies.No broken weapons.
Just a wide, silent plain where a war was supposed to happen.
Lucius whistled, running a hand through his hair."Damn. Clean. I don't even do cleanup this good."
Camila sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose."You're all insane," she muttered.
Arthur just grinned."Isn't that the fun part?"
Liam stood off to the side, quiet, staring into the distance.His golden aura flickered.
"Something's coming," he said.
Arthur didn't blink.
"Good."
It started with a shadow—A stain in the sky.
Then came the sound.
Not thunder.Not screams.
Something off. Like glass shattering inside your head.
Then they appeared.
Three figures, floating down in silence.Black and gold robes.Chains of light.Masks like polished silver.
Messengers.
Agents of the Throne.The ones who show up when a war goes off-script.
They didn't land.
They just existed.
And when they spoke, all three spoke at once. Same voice. Same mind.
"You have done the impossible."
"You erased a battle that was written into fate."
"This breaks the law of conflict."
They raised their hands.
"The Throne demands balance."
Arthur laughed.
"Balance? That's so boring."
The Messengers didn't react.
"You will answer to the Throne."
The Game Was Rigged—Until Arthur Showed Up
Arthur smiled wider.
His Eyes of Sloth flickered.His Eyes of Wrath burned.
"You guys keep saying 'must' like that still means something."
He snapped his fingers.
Reality flipped.
The sky turned to mirrored glass.The ground morphed into a floating chessboard of black and white squares.
And suddenly—The Messengers, once untouchable, once just observers—
Felt weight.Felt rules.Felt reality closing in.
Arthur stretched his arms like he just woke up from a nap.
"There. Now you're playing my game."
The Messengers paused.
And for the first time—They looked uncertain.
They weren't in control anymore.
They weren't even players.
They were pawns.
Lucius stepped forward slowly.
Eyes gleaming.Grin sharp.
He'd seen gods fall.Watched entire pantheons crumble.
But this?
This was something new.
"Ah," he said quietly, almost to himself."So that's why they're scared of you."
Arthur turned his head.
Lucius nodded toward the frozen Messengers.
"You didn't just beat them," he said. "You made them irrelevant."
Arthur shrugged.
"I like breaking things that think they can't be broken."
Lucius laughed.
"And that is exactly why you scare the hell out of everyone."
Up above—Beyond the broken sky, the floating chessboard, and the reach of magic—
The Throne watched.
It had never moved.Never needed to.
Because war was inevitable.
Until now.
Now?The rules had changed.
And for the first time ever—
The Throne of Conflict stood up.
A voice rang through every layer of reality.
A voice that had shaped every war ever fought.A voice that had never once spoken to a mortal directly.
Until now.
"Arthur."
The world shook.
And Arthur?
He just grinned.
"Finally," he murmured.
"This might actually be fun."
The sky was on fire.
The air buzzed with energy—like something big was about to drop.
The Messengers of the Throne? They were frozen. Stuck. Completely thrown off by Arthur's move. The battlefield had shifted, and they were no longer in control.
And then, way up above it all—past reality, past logic, past anything normal—
The Throne of Conflict spoke.
A voice. A name.
One that should've never been spoken.
One that shouldn't even exist in the divine archives.
"Arthur."
The world shook.
But before Arthur could react—before the chaos kicked back in—
Another voice cut through the tension.
"Let me take this one."
Arthur blinked.
Turned.
Liam stepped forward, calm as ever.
Golden hair glowing under the wrecked sky. Eyes shining with something fierce.
Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"
Liam cracked his neck. Energy rippled through him.
"I've been wanting to test something."
He rolled his shoulders, sparks of gold flickering off him.
"I hit the third stage of the Eyes of Pride back in the hunter world. Just never had a reason to use it."
Arthur smirked. "You've been holding out?"
Liam grinned. "Waiting for something fun."
The air shifted again.
The Messengers—still tangled in Arthur's energy—snapped their attention toward Liam.
Their voices overlapped in a weird, echoey divine tone.
"You are not recognized."
"You are not the anomaly."
"You do not belong in this battle."
Liam's grin didn't budge.
"Not yet."
Then his aura flared.
Golden energy burst out like a pressure wave. It didn't ask for permission. It announced itself.
And for the first time?
The world felt his Pride.
It didn't kneel.It didn't flinch.It didn't wait for approval.
Liam didn't care about being acknowledged.
He expected it.
And that shift? That demand?
The Messengers felt it.
Something terrifying. Unbreakable. Something that stood on level ground with the Throne itself.
Liam stepped forward.
His armor appeared—clean, sharp, divine. Each piece looked like it was made of raw willpower. His sword transformed into something way more than a weapon.
And those eyes...
They didn't glow.They didn't burn.
They commanded.
The Throne of Conflict had seen every kind of warrior over the ages. But this? This was new.
Liam wasn't here to survive.Wasn't here to fight out of desperation or duty.
He didn't carry fear.
He was Pride.
Pure. Unshaken. Unmatched.
And the Messengers? They moved—not because they chose to.
But because they had to.
They came for Arthur.
Now they had to deal with Liam.
And for the first time in centuries...
They hesitated.
Because they realized:
This wasn't about protecting the Throne anymore.
This was about who deserved it.
And going up against Liam?
They weren't sure they could win.
Arthur stood off to the side, arms crossed, grinning.
"Well, damn."
Lucius chuckled. "Guess someone's trying to steal your spotlight."
Amelia clapped, laughing. "This is so my favorite timeline."
Camila sighed. "Here we go."
Athena just stared. Quiet. Eyes wide.
Because whatever Liam had just become—it wasn't the guy they used to know.
This was something else.
Something even the Throne couldn't brush off
And now—
It was go time.
Not a fight between gods.Not angels vs. demons.Not chaos vs. order.
This was something else.
But between the embodiment of War… and the embodiment of Pride.
And only one of them was walking away on top.
The battlefield went quiet.
Liam stepped forward, and the air shifted. they could feel it in your teeth.
Across from him, the Messengers of the Throne stood still—silent, terrifying. These weren't people. They were literal constructs of magic. Walking laws of reality. Living spells in masks.
Their hands moved, tracing symbols in the air—ones that didn't belong to any known language.
Behind Liam, Arthur cracked a grin.
"Try not to break them too fast."
Liam didn't look back. Just smirked.
"No promises."
And just like that—
It was on.
The Messengers struck first.
No hesitation.
They chanted words no one had ever heard before—words that had never existed until now.
Brand-new magic, born in the moment, crafted for one purpose:
End Liam.
Reality bent.
A tidal wave of arcane fire, lightning that curved through dimensions, space that folded in on itself—
It all hit at once.
And Liam?
He didn't even flinch.
The second the storm touched him—
It vanished.
No shield.No counterspell.No clever trick.
It just stopped existing.
Because Liam had done the unthinkable.
Right before impact, he created something else—A world where magic doesn't work.
No fire.No lightning.No spells.
Nothing.
He didn't block it. He just made a space where it literally couldn't happen.
The Messengers froze.
They'd never seen their spells fail before.
They weren't just being attacked—they were being ignored.
And that scared the hell out of them.
Liam stepped forward.
His golden aura rippled like it was alive. Reality flickered. The ground cracked.
"Your mistake," he said, calm as ever, "was thinking I needed your rules to matter."
He raised a hand.
A vortex formed—not of magic. Not even energy. Something deeper.
Concepts. Ideas. Reality itself getting twisted and rewritten like a page being torn up mid-sentence.
The Messengers panicked.
They tried everything—new spells, new barriers, new tricks—
Didn't matter.
Liam erased them before they could even finish forming.
Because he didn't need to understand their magic.
He understood what magic was.
And now?
He was rewriting the rulebook.
The Messengers staggered.
Not because they were weak.
But because they'd never been up against this kind of threat before.
Liam didn't block spells.
He made them meaningless.
He didn't play by the rules.
He acted like the rules didn't even exist.
Every new law they wrote—he rewrote in real time.
Every spell they tried to summon—he denied with a glance.
He wasn't fighting against them.
He was making them irrelevant.
And that hit way harder than any weapon.
Because for the first time—
The Throne of Magic realized:
This wasn't a fight for dominance.
This was a fight for purpose.
And it was losing.
The Messengers hesitated.
Then—they tried something they'd never done.
All of them combined their power.
Their hands moved in sync. Their voices layered, warping the air itself.
They were weaving something new.
Something huge.
A spell that would force magic to exist again.
That would undo resistance.
That would make the rules so absolute, even Liam couldn't rewrite them.
A spell that would decide everything.
But right before they finished—
Liam smiled.
Just a little.
And then—everything stopped.
He erased the spell itself.Not the energy.Not the effect.The idea.
And just like that—
Everything fell apart.
The Messengers didn't scream.
They didn't fall in defeat.
They just… unraveled.
Their bodies—once made from pure, high-tier magical code—came undone. Not because Liam beat them in a straight-up fight. Not because he crushed them with power.
They just didn't matter anymore.
They'd been built to enforce the laws of magic.
And magic?
Liam had flipped the script.
He lowered his hand, exhaling like he'd just finished a casual workout.
"Well," he said, glancing at Arthur, "slow enough for you?"
Arthur laughed.Lucius let out a low whistle, eyes bright.Camila groaned like she'd seen this coming.Amelia grinned, straight-up impressed.Athena didn't say a word—she just stared.
Because they all got it now.
Liam wasn't just some prodigy warrior.Not just royalty.Not just the Sin of Pride.
He was something new.Something magic couldn't even touch.
Far Away—Something Noticed
Way past the battlefield—Beyond the stars.Past the ruins of the Throne of Magic.
Something noticed.
Something that should've never been watching.
Something that had never needed to worry.Never needed to act.Never needed to fear.
Until now.
Because Liam just proved something terrifying.
He wasn't a king.Wasn't a god.Wasn't the master of some magic system.
He was beyond all that.
And that?
That was the start of something way worse.
The battlefield was dead silent.
Not out of shock.
Out of realization.
The Messengers weren't killed.They weren't broken.They weren't even defeated.
They were just… erased.
Because their existence was built on a single idea:That magic was absolute.
And Liam rewrote that idea like it was a typo.
Then—the sky made a sound that wasn't sound.
A low hum.
A concept.
Everyone felt it. No one could explain it.
Then the sky cracked.
Lines of nothing cut through the clouds, slicing reality open like paper.And inside the break—An eye.
Not human.Not divine.Not alive.
Just watching.
A being with no name.No mouth.No body.Because it had never needed to be anything.
Until now.
Because for the first time ever,The rules had been broken.
And so—
It looked.
Not at the world.Not at the sky.Not at the throne Liam had just erased.
But at Liam himself.
Arthur's Smile Slips
Arthur had seen a lot.
Gods falling.Worlds burning.Laws rewritten like graffiti on a wall.
But this?
This was different.
This wasn't power.
This was unknown.
And Arthur—who had faced monsters, devoured sin, walked through cosmic fire—Did something he hadn't done in a long time.
He hesitated.
Not because he was scared.Not because he felt weak.
But because he didn't understand what he was looking at.
And that—That was the one thing he hated most.
His grin stayed.
But this time?It felt a little fake.