It did not arrive.
Arrival implied movement.
It noticed them.
Beyond gods, beyond laws, beyond the last layers of reality where even divinity refused to exist, something shifted its attention.
Not toward the world.
Toward the tower.
Toward the king who said no.
---
The first sign was silence.
Not the absence of sound—
the absence of cause.
Inside the tower, mana stopped flowing for a fraction of a second. Time hesitated. The core dimmed, not in fear, but in recognition.
Elowen gasped.
The flowers across the tower froze mid-bloom.
The assistant felt his thoughts slow.
"My King," he said carefully, every word heavy, "something is observing us."
The Demon King's eyes narrowed.
"Yes," he replied. "It always does."
---
Far above the world, where even gods could not see, a presence unfolded its awareness.
It had no form.
No name.
Worlds collapsed around it like ash drifting in water.
It had watched countless realities fail.
And now—
One refused.
---
Inside the Celestial Realm, every god fell silent at once.
Not because of fear.
Because they were no longer being acknowledged.
"We've lost it," one whispered. "The observer has turned away from us."
Another trembled. "It's watching him."
---
The tower shuddered.
Not from attack.
From pressure.
Elowen staggered, clutching her chest.
"It's… heavy," she whispered. "Like the world is being weighed."
The Demon King stepped forward instantly.
"Stabilize yourself," he said.
"I'm trying," she replied, breathing hard. "But it's not judging power. It's judging… outcomes."
The assistant's blood ran cold.
"…It devours failed worlds," he said slowly. "Doesn't it?"
"Yes," the Demon King replied.
Elowen looked up at him, eyes wide.
"Then why is it looking at us?"
The Demon King stared into the void beyond the tower.
"Because," he said calmly, "this world hasn't failed yet."
---
The pressure increased.
Reality bent inward. Distant stars flickered like dying embers. The tower's outer layers cracked, instantly repairing themselves.
The observer did not attack.
It waited.
For a decision.
Elowen took a shaking breath and placed her hands on the core.
Golden light spread, softer than before—deeper.
"I won't let it collapse," she whispered. "Not like the others."
The tower responded.
Not loudly.
Respectfully.
The Demon King placed his hand over hers.
"Then neither will I."
The pressure eased—just slightly.
Enough to survive.
---
Far beyond reality, the observer withdrew its focus by a fraction.
Not satisfied.
Not displeased.
Interested.
And that was worse than judgment.
---
Inside the tower, the assistant knelt.
"My King… the world is no longer just fighting gods."
"I know," the Demon King replied.
He looked down at the blooming floors, the kneeling world, the girl holding reality together.
"Let it watch," he said.
"If this world ends—
it will not be quietly."