Not because the war had ended—
but because something worse had arrived.
Burning wreckage fell from the sky as the black-armored man stepped down from the remains of the command ship. Flames curled around his boots but never touched him. His presence distorted the air, heavy and familiar.
The Demon King felt it instantly.
"…You're alive," he said.
The man grinned. "Disappointed?"
Elowen leaned forward. "Oh! You two know each other?"
The assistant's blood ran cold.
"My King," he whispered, "that aura… it's similar to yours."
"Because it was stolen," the Demon King replied calmly.
The man laughed. "Stolen is such an ugly word. I prefer survived."
He planted his spear into the ground. The earth cracked outward like glass.
"Do you remember the last world?" the man asked. "The one that burned because it refused to listen?"
The tower trembled.
Memories stirred—ruins, screams, gods dying mid-sentence.
"You were sealed," the Demon King said. "I watched it happen."
"And you turned your back," the man replied softly. "That's why I lived."
Silence stretched between them.
Elowen felt it then.
Fear.
Not from the tower.
From the world itself.
---
Armies froze mid-movement.
Heroes stopped breathing.
Even the beasts hesitated.
Something ancient was unfolding.
"You came to challenge me?" the Demon King asked.
The man shook his head. "No. I came to see which of us the tower chose."
Elowen frowned. "The tower doesn't choose. It listens."
Both kings looked at her.
The man's smile faded slightly.
"…Interesting," he murmured.
He lifted his spear.
The sky split.
A shockwave tore through the battlefield, erasing what little remained of the surrounding armies. Mountains collapsed. Rivers reversed their flow.
The Demon King did not move.
The shockwave stopped an inch from his body.
"Still standing," the man said. "Good."
The Demon King stepped forward.
Reality screamed.
The ground between them vanished, replaced by a void of crushed space. Their auras collided, black against black, power tearing at the laws of existence.
Elowen grabbed the railing tightly.
"Please don't break the flowers," she said anxiously.
The tower shifted.
It reinforced itself.
Chose stability.
Chose its master.
The man staggered back half a step.
His eyes widened.
"…So that's your answer," he said quietly.
The Demon King raised his hand.
"This ends here."
The man laughed—genuine, loud, almost relieved.
"Good," he said. "I'd hate to be forgotten again."
They moved.
The impact erased the sky.
---
Far above, the gods felt it.
One whispered in horror,
"Two."
Another answered,
"The world won't survive even one."
---
Inside the tower, Elowen closed her eyes and pressed her palms together.
Golden light spread outward, stabilizing the space tearing itself apart.
"Please," she whispered. "Not yet."
The world listened.
For now.