477 Kings Have Arrived
POV Cultist Bob:
The cliff's edge lood ominously over a churning, furious sea that smashed its waves against the sharp rocks below.
Dark figures, robed in black and stained with fresh blood, ford a grim circle. The air was thick with tension and decayed as if the very atmosphere were rotting.
On the distant horizon, a fortified island bristled with tall towers and formidable walls, a looming sentinel under the waning light of the setting sun.
'Your end is coming!' At the cliff's edge, the man in a decorated demonic mask spread his arms wide, his black robes soaked in blood fluttering in the wind.
Clinks and grunts from soldiers scaling the steep cliffside resounded, but the cultist paid them no mind, knowing they were too late. In the sky, winged figures—immortals—
swooped down from the sky, their radiant swords slashing through the air.
Bob only snickered at their attempts, knowing that the forces of light already failed, 'Since the king of wrath entered this world after being summoned by the dragon overlord of the northern continent, the balance shifted toward darkness, making it easier to summon the rest.'
"Appear, your dark majesty; we, your loyal servants, invite and welco you!" The horned leader yelled, his voice tinged with mania. The chorus of muffled voices repeated his words.
Around him, other cultists chanted incantations, their hands glowing with dark greenish energy that hurled bolts of poison at the descending immortals, keeping them at bay with their relentless barrages.
The leader held up the vial of impossibly dark blood, throwing it into the raging sea below.
"Accept our gift and catalyst of your arrival, the blood of your fellow king, the blood of anger!"
A tense silence fell after the final syllable of his last word, broken only by the strains of combat—the clash of tal, the sizzle of intercepted magic, the desperate wingbeats of immortals trying to stop him and his comrades.
Then, from the depths of the ocean, clouds of flies erupted into the sky, forming a living, buzzing shroud that blocked out the sun. "His majesty is here!" the horned leader Bob shrieked, falling to his knees, his eyes burning a corrupt green.
A distorted cacophony of voices erupted from the circle of cultists, each scrambling to vocalize their twisted devotion. "His Majesty, the fallen grim of plagues and rot! His Majesty, the king of flies! His Majesty, the king of gluttony!"
The swarm of flies surged forward like a tidal wave of darkness, their collective buzzing a deafening roar. The cultists' eyes widened triumphantly as the swarm engulfed the approaching soldiers, who had almost reached the cliff's top.
Screams filled the air, piercing even the thick buzz, but they were cut short, vanishing into eerie silence.
'It is over. You have taken my family, my life, and even my na. Now, you will turn into the feast for his dark Majesty!'
One by one, the immortals were stripped to nothingness, the glow of their weapons and magic snuffed out, devoured by the dark mass of flies.
The horned leader looked toward the distant fortress island, and the flies, as if guided by his evil will, sped across the waters. From the fortress, magical shields sprang to life, glowing barriers forming a do of light.
'Haha, as if you can survive the arrival of devouring!'
The swarm struck the shields, and sizzling magic filled the air. Within monts, the shields were eaten through, disintegrating into motes of light.
Upon breaching the final line of defense, the swarm descended upon the fortress. Towers crumbled, walls disintegrated, and screams echoed as both stone and flesh were consud.
POV Vesuvius:
Frosty walls glead under the bright golden glow shining out of the piles of golden coins piling beneath the giant dragon, like thousands of stars. Vesuvius felt his soul expand and stretch out. It was as if every coin beca an extension of his mind.
'This is not enough. They are not transford entirely.' Vesuvius cursed, and the golden mountains sparked with the divine energy that flowed through them. The empire, no, the world, was burning, and he was forced to hide and wait.
'The world is a dangerous place. Demon kings, angels of the highest orders, and beings brought here from other worlds.' More and more bad news reached his ears every day, reaffirming his decision to grow stronger while hidden in the shadows.
The dragon closed his eyes again, feeling his divine power seep deeper into the gold around him and slowly transforming and assimilating it.
Ding!
//
You have assimilated 984 golden coins into your domain and soul!
1 to DIV
//
'It keeps growing, but I have gathered the gold of all the conquered empires and kingdoms here. It should be enough.'
He finally understood what the kings were, their power and potential making him almost despair, yet at the sa ti, he craved their power.
'Once my divine energy reaches the threshold, I will ignite my crest of genesis and engrave my na into the fabric of reality! Then I will baptize myself with elents of ti and space, taking their authority for myself.' The dragon grinned in the golden glow, knowing his patience would soon bear fruit.
'Soon, the world will learn of my new true na.'
POV Prosecutor Janice:
The courtroom buzzed with activity, with every seat filled with people dressed in business attire. Journalists jockeyed for the positions with the best view—their caras focused on the front of the room, where Prosecutor Janice stood.
Fluorescent lights overhead cast a harsh glow on the wooden desks and the blue flag of the new United Governnt hanging behind the judge's bench.
Janice, a young woman with dark, piercing eyes and a no-nonsense deanor, stood up. She adjusted her blazer and cleared her throat as she faced the judge, an old, masked man. "Your Honor, mbers of the jury, esteed colleagues," she said, her voice steady and authoritative, "the absence of the defendants today is, in itself, an admission of guilt."
Even though she kept a cold face, she snickered internally, knowing the entire process was nothing but a farce. 'What nonsense—persecuting immortal beings. Nothing but propaganda for dumb masses.'
The room turned ice-cold. Lights blinked erratically. People clutched their coats, confused and uneasy. Cellphones froze, and laptops crashed.
Janice felt a chill run down her spine, her knees almost buckling below her as she trembled and turned around toward the source of her fear.
A man stood at the back of the courtroom. His white suit was crisp, a sharp contrast to the room's muted colors. Dark energy mixed with a strange luminescence emanated from him, filling the room with tension.
Janice stared at him, montarily disoriented. His appearance was inexplicably captivating: the blonde hair, the immaculate complexion, and the physique that seed sculpted to perfection.
All her fear vanished, replaced by an uncontrollable blush: 'So pretty, but he doesn't look like any of the top players, yet he radiates such power.'
"May I interrupt?" The man's voice was soft but laced with an unnerving undertone. "I apologize for being late. I am here to represent the defendants."
The room fell silent as everyone held their breath.
Struggling to keep his voice steady, the judge finally spoke. "And you are?"
With a bow and a smile that sent shivers down spines, the man replied, "I am Lucifer, Lucifer Morningstar, and I represent the accused party."
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