Unrivaled in another world

[: 3rd POV :]

The chamber, once ringing with the fading echoes of Arcturus's final screams, fell into an unnatural silence.

Then...

BOOM.

An invisible force swept across the room like a tidal wave.

Every mercenary, every guild member, even the most seasoned warriors who had survived countless battles, were smashed to their knees.

The stone beneath them cracked as their bodies were forced down by a pressure that felt less like weight and more like the will of a higher order descending.

Air was stolen from their lungs; some gagged, others choked.

Weapons slipped from trembling fingers, clattering uselessly against the floor.

A few tried to resist, their muscles straining, veins bulging, but their efforts were laughable.

No matter how much strength they poured into rising, their bodies refused to obey.

Even their voices betrayed them.

Their throats seized, as though the very air had been sealed shut.

Fear spread quickly, sharp and suffocating.

Because this wasn't Daniel's power.

They knew that instinctively.

And if it wasn't his…

Then what was it?

The room groaned.

The ancient walls of the chamber rattled, loose stones trembling in their sockets.

Dust fell like drifting ash, filling the silence with an eerie hiss.

Torches sputtered violently, flames bending toward an unseen gravity as shadows lengthened grotesquely along the walls.

Only one figure remained upright.

Daniel.

He did not waver, yet his expression was not one of triumph.

His brow was furrowed, his lips pressed into a thin line.

His violet eyes, sharp and unblinking, were fixed on something in the air, no, not something, but somewhere.

A point in the atmosphere where reality itself seemed to ripple, like the surface of disturbed water.

The air distorted, shivering unnaturally, faint cracks of black light spiderwebbing outward.

The temperature plummeted.

Frost began to creep along the edges of the stone, while beads of cold sweat rolled down the faces of the kneeling survivors.

The mercenaries wanted to scream, to beg Daniel for answers, but the suppression choked their words before they could even form.

Their bodies trembled uncontrollably, their hearts pounding like drums of panic in their chests.

Daniel's frown deepened.

His hand twitched slightly at his side, as though ready to summon his power at a moment's notice.

Whatever this was, it wasn't random.

It was deliberate.

Calculated.

A presence, ferocious, vast, and dangerous, was pressing through the veil of the world, and Daniel was the only one standing against it.

The pressure doubled, no, it tripled.

It felt as though the very air had turned into molten lead, pressing down on the backs of the mercenaries and guild members until their foreheads touched the cracked stone.

Those who tried to resist trembled violently, veins bulging, but it was useless.

Their spines bowed, their muscles screamed, their very bones creaked under the weight of a will far beyond mortal comprehension.

Then it spoke.

"Which fool had killed my lamb…?"

The voice was not sound, it was an intrusion.

It slithered directly into their skulls, deep and guttural, dragging claws across their minds.

The words were thick with malice and age, every syllable a slow grind of iron and thunder.

The moment it spoke, the pressure deepened even further, wringing the air from their lungs.

Some of the mercenaries coughed blood, their bodies unable to endure the strain of simply existing under that presence.

Daniel alone remained standing.

His clothes rippled despite the air being still, his hair fluttering as if caught in some unseen current.

He lifted his gaze upward, his violet eyes narrowing.

"Is it you, boy…?"

The voice darkened, focusing entirely on Daniel now.

All at once, reality tore.

Not with the chaotic violence of a Gate, but with deliberate precision, a slit opening in the fabric of the world itself.

It appeared in midair like a wound, jagged and black, stretching wider with each pulse of crimson light.

From within, something stirred.

An eye.

It emerged slowly, massive enough to dwarf even the chamber itself, yet somehow contained within the rift.

Its sclera was a deep, unnatural black, the iris a molten crimson that burned like fresh blood.

A vertical slit cleaved through it like a predatory scar, dilating and contracting as it fixed upon Daniel.

Every mercenary who caught a glimpse of it shuddered and averted their eyes, instinct screaming at them not to stare. Some wept without knowing why.

Others whispered prayers, though their voices trembled too much to finish them.

Daniel, however, did not look away.

His expression was hard, cold, yet composed.

"That's right. I'm the one who killed your so-called lamb."

His voice cut through the suffocating silence like a blade.

"In fact, he wasn't even a lamb… but just an insect."

The air vibrated.

Then came laughter.

A booming, distorted sound that made the walls crack and the ground tremble.

It wasn't mirth, but something older and crueller, a predator entertained by an audacious prey.

"HAHAHAHA!"

The laughter reverberated endlessly, rattling through bone and soul alike.

"This is the first time… the first time a mortal has dared to insult me to my face."

The voice hissed, its tone shifting from amusement to something darker.

"That is… new."

The eye narrowed further, its slit contracting like a blade drawn from a sheath.

"Boy, you have guts, and I'll give you that…" the voice purred, its weight coiling around Daniel like a serpent.

"But don't you think you're looking down on me too much? Or perhaps…"

The temperature dropped again. Frost crawled across the broken floor, over boots, over weapons.

"Do you not even know who I am…?"

The entire room seemed to lean toward the rift, waiting for Daniel's answer.

He didn't flinch.

His violet eyes burned brighter, his tone steady but edged with steel.

"No doubt," he said. "You're the Apocalypse Sovereign."

The eye blinked once, a slow, predatory gesture.

Then the air quivered, like reality itself had inhaled sharply.

"Indeed."

The voice rumbled, deep enough that cracks spiderwebbed across the stone columns.

"Since you know who I am… how about we make a deal, boy?"

The colossal eye blinked, slow and deliberate, and though it had no mouth, the air rippled with the sense of a wicked smile spreading across unseen lips.

Daniel's gaze narrowed. He did not lower his head, nor did he retreat.

Instead, his tone was calm, steady, curious, but edged like steel.

"What kind of deal?"

The air hummed as if the Sovereign had been waiting for that question.

"How about you become my Apostle…" the voice whispered, smooth and oily, dripping with ancient power.

"A being that can represent me in this world."

"You might not know this, boy, since your Ancestors sealed this world long ago… but soon, your world will face a crisis''

'' Before that happens, why not take my hand? Become my Apostle."

The eye gleamed crimson, threads of destructive light bleeding from its slit.

"Think about it."

The voice deepened, dragging like a blade across stone.

"For millions of years, countless beings across countless realms would kill, betray, even destroy entire civilisations for the chance to become my Apostle''

'' Yet only a chosen few have ever tasted such a gift."

The Sovereign's presence pulsed, and the pressure became unbearable.

"Take this chance''

''With my power flowing through you, your strength would be unmatched''

''No one could deny you''

''No one could oppose you''

'' You would be a Sovereign in all but name."

The laughter returned, low, rumbling, like an earthquake building in the marrow of every listener.

"With me, you will never be weak again, boy''

''With me… even gods would tremble at your feet."

The eye's slit dilated, crimson glow pulsing as if reaching out to him.

The promise of infinite power hung in the air, intoxicating and suffocating all at once.

But Daniel…

Daniel did not flinch.

He did not tremble.

He simply exhaled, a slow, steady breath, violet eyes glinting with unyielding defiance.

"No thanks," Daniel said flatly, his words sharp enough to cut the silence.

The Sovereign stilled.

"And you can keep it for someone else."

The refusal rang like a hammer against the sky.

For a moment, all sound vanished.

The oppressive pressure froze, the mercenaries straining as though time itself had stopped.

Then… silence turned to wrath.

The eye narrowed dangerously. The crimson slit flared, stretching wide with malignant fury. The very walls shook, dust and stone raining down as cracks split the chamber.

The Sovereign's voice, no longer sly, no longer amused, crashed like a storm.

"….You dare."

The words reverberated through the chamber, crushing the air out of lungs, snapping torches from their brackets.

"With the Authority I hold, with the hierarchy I embody—you dare reject me?"

The weight grew unbearable.

Men collapsed, bodies twitching under the sheer force of the Sovereign's wrath.

Weapons cracked under the invisible pressure.

The air itself screamed, trembling like it was about to shatter.

And yet Daniel stood, frowning.

His expression was not one of fear, nor awe, but of grim annoyance, as if the very Sovereign of Apocalypse was nothing more than another obstacle in his path.

The two forces clashed in silence, one, the will of an ancient being who had ruled calamity for aeons, and the other, the quiet defiance of a man who had clawed himself out of the abyss.