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The colossal spear of judgnt pierced the earth like a divine pillar, blotting out the sky. It had yet to release its true power, and yet, just from landing alone, it had vaporized everything within hundreds of square kiloters.
Including the First Progenitor—Ki Juranbarada.
Of course, as a Progenitor—an immortal being cursed by the Gods—he could not die. Even if his body was diced into at paste, he would regenerate in re seconds.
Yet even for him, it took quite so ti to fully reconstitute his body. And when he finally opened his eyes, what greeted him was... nothing.
Everything he once knew, all that had stood in the capital city, was gone. An entire empire's heart wiped clean, leaving behind only barren white earth stretching out beneath the Heaven.
Outside the borders of the capital, the rest of the nation remained untouched. Cities bustled. Lights flickered. Civilization moved on—just not here.
Juranbarada stood still, slowly absorbing the truth.
He had once been part of the Celestial Court—the divine rulers of the earth in ancient tis. He had since fallen, becoming a vampire, a Progenitor, and now ruler of the Warlord Domain, the supre force of Eastern Europe.
But now, with a single strike, his throne had been turned to dust.
And he... one of the most ancient, most powerful beings to ever walk the world—could do nothing but stare up in awe at the towering divine spear that had wiped it all away.
"Lord Juranbarada... please... save ..."
A broken voice croaked up from the ground.
There, impaled beneath the golden spear, was Dimitrie Vatler, or what remained of him.
He had driven his own mind to its last fragnts just to cry out those words—his final hope.
Vatler had once been the pride of the Warlord Domain: a vampire noble who had risen through the ranks by devouring two elders more powerful than himself.
They had called him "the Strongest below the Progenitors."
He reveled in combat. Worshiped it. Lived for the thrill of overcoming strong foes. That obsession had taken root deep in his soul.
A few hours ago, he had believed Bokue Keikain to be rely another stepping stone on his glorious path—an annoyingly difficult challenge, but still within reach.
His plan was simple: defeat the Fourth Progenitor, wipe out the Nalakuvera army the Black Death Faction intended to use, and present both victory and cleanup to Juranbarada as a tribute.
It would've been perfect.
But he had been so, so wrong.
From the mont he turned around and returned to Itogami Island... the second he tried to challenge Bokue again... his fate had been sealed.
In truth, if he hadn't tried to be clever—if he hadn't made his ties to the Black Death Faction so obvious—he might have lived.
But no. He'd chosen the loudest, most arrogant path possible.
And now, this was all that remained.
❁❁❁❁
"Vatler..."
Ki Juranbarada muttered the na softly.
He'd always known Vatler was headstrong. That's why he'd sent him. It was Vatler's battle lust that made him powerful—unrivaled, even. And when the Black Death Faction reerged from the Warlord Domain's shadow, it made sense to send soone like Vatler to handle it.
After all, it was their own ss. Their house needed to be cleaned up.
The Fourth Progenitor had only recently awakened—his strength uncertain. So Juranbarada had deed it necessary to offer diplomatic assistance and ensure their rogue faction didn't spark a war on foreign soil.
What he hadn't foreseen... was treason.
Vatler had gone behind his back. He'd allied with the Black Death Faction—helped them infiltrate Japan, and even provided them with ans to operate the Nalakuvera units.
At best, it was insubordination.
At worst, it was high treason. And now... soone else had already passed judgnt on his behalf.
As if to say, "If you won't discipline your dog—I will."
"This overwhelming power..."
Juranbarada stared up at the divine spear embedded in the earth.
Though its might had subsided, he could still feel it—like molten lava slumbering beneath skin. It wasn't power that could destroy the Warlord Domain. It was power that had chosen not to.
And Vatler?
He was alive only because the spear was keeping him alive, injecting just enough energy to keep his body from fully dying, just enough consciousness to make death impossible.
It was a curse in the shape of rcy.
Death had beco a luxury Vatler could no longer afford.
Even unconsciousness had abandoned him. All he could do was endure, fully awake, the endless agony of existence.
"Lord... Juranbarada..."
His ntal will was splintering. He'd just barely broken through Bokue's ntal seal, allowing him a few seconds of lucidity.
And now he begged—begged—his master to save him.
Because once that seal resud control, Vatler would go right back to reciting his cris like a cursed automaton, forced to announce to the world every sin he'd committed in sha.
And who knows what Juranbarada would do once he heard that.
So this... this was his final chance.
"I'm sorry, Vatler."
...What?
Vatler's remaining eye widened in disbelief.
And reflected in that blue iris, was Juranbarada—gaze averted, eyelids low.
"As the First Progenitor... I bear responsibility for all who live under my rule."
His voice was calm.
And then—
A blast of scarlet fla erupted skyward, shaking the earth and splitting the clouds.
That was Juranbarada's true form—the ancient, terrifying might of the First Progenitor unleashed.
Vatler's hope burned away with it.
BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM—!!!
A thunderclap. A flash of gold.
And then... silence.
The divine spear shattered. Thousands of shimring particles rained from the sky, drifting gently to the earth like stardust.
And as they touched the land—The capital was reborn.
Buildings rose from the flat earth. Streets reford. Towers returned to the skyline.
In monts, everything was restored.
The palace stood tall once more.
The city bustled. Traffic resud.
It was as if the devastation had never happened.
❁❁❁❁
anwhile, back on Itogami Island—
Inside a luxurious penthouse bathroom, Bokue Keikain was drying off with Asagi Aiba in his arms.
He let out a low whistle as he sensed the shift in energy from across the world. 'Well now... looks like the First Progenitor made the right call.'
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