Rise of the Lustful Evil Monarch (Re)

Third Person's POV

Meanwhile, Zarghul's fragmented consciousness watched all this in growing horror.

How?

How could a mere mortal, bound by the laws of this lower realm, touch the Netherflame and survive? Worse—devour it?

A sensation it had long forgotten stirred in the depths of its fragmented mind.

For the first time in millennia, Zarghul felt something it had once deemed impossible.

Fear.

Ethan clenched his fingers, and the burning skull shattered in his grasp.

Zarghul's crimson skull avatar trembled as its hollow eyes widened in disbelief.

"What… what is this?" it hissed as its voice sounded like a chorus of screams.

"How can you resist the Netherflame? How can you consume it?"

Ethan didn't answer.

His focus was absolute as the silver vortex over his palm grew, devouring the Netherflame of Eternal Woe with an insatiable hunger.

The Dreamshroud Devil Emperor Bloodline which had been long dormant within him, roared to life like a slumbering beast awakened by the scent of prey.

His vision blurred and the battlefield faded as fragments of memories, and dreams of a distant, ancient realm flooded his mind.

He found himself standing in a world, unlike anything he had ever seen.

The sky was a shimmering expanse of silver and its surface rippled like liquid metal.

Below, the ground was a mosaic of black and white as its patterns shifted and swirled as if alive.

Towering spires of obsidian and alabaster stretched toward the heavens as their jagged peaks pierced the sky full of dreamy silver clouds like celestial blades.

The air pulsed with a strange, resonant energy and a delicate balance of light and shadow that felt both sacred and profane.

At the heart of this world, a colossal black spire loomed above the drifting silver clouds with its peak vanishing into the endless night sky.

It was a sky devoid of a sun, where no blue hues existed but only a canvas of swirling darkness adorned it with distant glimmering stars.

Yet, standing beneath it, Ethan felt no unfamiliarity. On the contrary, a whisper of recognition stirred in his soul.

He seemed to be floating in the sky.

He instinctively wanted to see its peak and as if fulfilling his wishes, he was able to see that.

Atop the spire, a throne of pristine white bone gleamed with its surface polished as if sculpted by divine hands.

It radiated an aura of absolute sovereignty and a presence so domineering that even the silent world around it seemed to bow in reverence.

And upon this throne sat a figure cloaked in boundless shadow.

Its form was indistinct like an abyss of darkness that stretched infinitely in all directions, shifting and bleeding into the surrounding void.

Yet, one thing stood in piercing contrast and it was the ethereal silver crown resting upon its head.

The crown was neither metal nor stone but seemed to be woven from the essence of countless souls as each strand of it pulsed with a faint, spectral light.

Their whispers wove together into a haunting symphony and formed a melody of sorrow, power, and eternity.

The very presence of the figure was overwhelming like an existence that transcended time, space, and mortality itself.

Then, it turned its gaze upon Ethan.

A suffocating force crashed against his very being as their eyes met—if those voids of infinite depth could even be called eyes.

Within them, Ethan saw eternity.

A vast abyss of eons, the echoes of forgotten civilizations, and the weight of uncountable lives flickered like dying embers in the void in its huge eyes.

His breath hitched. A primal instinct screamed at him to avert his gaze, to bow and to submit before this entity beyond comprehension.

But he stood firm, even as he felt something unravel within him as if his very essence was laid bare before this being.

And then, the figure spoke.

Its voice was not a sound but a resonance that vibrated through existence itself leaving an echo that came from nowhere and everywhere at once.
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"You have finally awakened."

The words resonated through Ethan's soul, not as a greeting but as a proclamation.

"The Dreamshroud stirs once more. Do not falter, heir of shadows.

The path ahead is fraught with peril, but the Eternal Throne awaits."

The world of silver and shadow trembled. Fragments of light splintered like shattered glass, and reality collapsed inward.

The vision faded.

Ethan's consciousness snapped back to the battlefield, but the memory lingered and was more vivid than any dream and more tangible than a mere illusion.

Something ancient had turned its gaze upon him.

That timeless being had acknowledged him.

He didn't know if it would be beneficial or disastrous in the long run but he knew that he would never give up on himself and the people around him in this life at any close.

As his turbulent heart steadied and his turbulent thoughts deep within his mind calmed Ethan understood one undeniable truth.

This… this is my legacy.

As for this Void Nihility demon, its moment of reckoning had arrived. The hunted had become the hunter.

But Zarghul steadied itself, and in an instant, the air grew deathly cold and sterile as if all traces of life had been erased, leaving behind an abyss of absolute nothingness.

Suddenly, its crimson skull avatar quivered with fury and its hollow eye sockets ignited with a searing infernal glow.

"You dare defy me, mortal?" it hissed, its voice an unsettling mix of screams and whispers, layered with malice.

"Do you truly believe your fragile will can withstand the abyss of Nihility? Allow me to correct your arrogance."

Ethan merely shook his head and was clearly unimpressed by his charade.

He hadn't displayed any arrogance, yet the Nihility demon seethed as if his very act of defense and defiance had wounded its fragile ego.

He hadn't shown any of the arrogance it talked about but it seemed its fragile ego couldn't withstand a grade-two being like him defending and nullifying its attack.