Chapter 135: The Intergalactic King-Off and the Buffet of Destiny
The heist of the Cosmic Vault had left the Empire of the Violet Star drowning in so much "Primordial Ink" that the clouds were literally raining glitter and plot-relevant coincidences. Volt, now sitting on a throne that had been upgraded to "Ultra-HD" with 4K resolution, looked at the barrels of ink stacked in the Hall of the Hearth. With 30 million influence points pulsating through his veins, he felt a strange, divine itch.
"Father, the CFO says we have too much 'Reality' in the bank," Akuto said, while trying to use a quill dipped in Primordial Ink to draw a mustache on a sleeping Anos. "He says if we don't spend it, the inflation will make our gold coins look like chocolate wrappers."
Volt's eyes lit up behind his dark sunglasses. "Inflation? We can't have that. We need a project. Something big. Something that screams 'I am the Author and you are all guests in my house'."
Volt stood up, his golden crest flaring. "Gather the Union! We are hosting the First Annual Intergalactic King-Off! We shall invite every King, Emperor, and Self-Proclaimed God from every genre in the multiverse. The winner gets a bucket of Primordial Ink and a permanent spot in the 'Not-Deleted' list. The loser... well, they have to clean the 8-bit knight's armor."
The invitations were sent out via "Narrative Telepathy." Within hours, the Empire's grand courtyard was filled with the most pretentious collection of royalty ever assembled. There was a King made entirely of gold who refused to sit down for fear of scratching his shins; a "Dark Lord" who kept complaining that the violet sky wasn't "edgy" enough; and a Galactic Emperor who arrived in a ship so large it accidentally crushed the Empire's visitor parking lot.
"Welcome, fellow Sovereigns!" Volt bellowed from the balcony, holding a microphone made of starlight. "Today, we decide who has the most 'Presence.' The rules are simple: No actual world-ending spells (we just cleaned the floors), no hidden daggers, and if you use 'The Power of Friendship,' you are immediately disqualified."
The first event was the "Dramatic Entrance Contest."
The King of Gold walked onto the stage, throwing handfuls of diamonds at the crowd. "I am the richest being in the Seven Sectors!" he cried. The crowd—mostly made of the Deleted Union—yawned.
Then came Akuto, representing the House of Volt. He didn't walk. He fell from the sky, landed in a perfect superhero pose, and caused a fountain of chocolate milk to erupt from the ground. Then, he pulled a rubber chicken out of thin air and made it recite a Shakespearean sonnet.
The judges (Anos, Sasha, and a very confused 2-D ninja) gave Akuto a 10/10. The King of Gold was given a 2/10 because his diamonds were "too shiny and hurt the 8-bit knight's eyes."
The second event was the "Monologue of Doom."
The Dark Lord of the Shadow Realm stepped up, his voice echoing with fake thunder. "I shall shroud this world in eternal darkness! I shall make the stars weep! I shall—"
"Boring!" Volt interrupted from the VIP lounge. "We've heard that one in every fantasy novel since 1970. Give us something fresh!"
The Dark Lord hesitated. "Uh... I shall make all your socks slightly damp so they never feel quite dry?"
There was a moment of silence. Then the audience gasped in horror. "That's truly evil!" someone shouted. "He's a monster!" Volt nodded appreciatively. "Now that is narrative tension."
As the competition went on, the Grand Overseer and a group of Council Shareholders appeared in a private box, disguised as elderly tourists. They were fuming.
"Look at them," the Overseer hissed, clutching his new marshmallow-tipped cane. "He's using the Primordial Ink to host a talent show. My ancestors are turning in their graves—and their graves are currently being used as a buffet table!"
"Sir," a Shareholder whispered, "should we intervene?"
"No," the Overseer sighed, looking at Akuto, who was now juggleing three galactic emperors. "If we go down there, he'll probably rewrite us into back-up dancers. We stay here, we eat the free shrimp, and we wait for the 'Final Act'."
The climax of the King-Off came when Volt himself descended to the stage. He didn't use any fancy effects. He simply tapped the Author's Mark.
The 30 million influence points surged, and for a split second, every King in the audience saw their own "Character Sheet." They saw their weaknesses, their embarrassing childhood secrets, and the exact page number where they were supposed to die.
"You see," Volt said, his voice dropping into that smooth, terrifying bass. "You are all Kings in your own stories. but in this story, you are all just ink. And I am the one with the eraser."
The entire courtyard went silent. The Kings, the Dark Lords, and even the Galactic Emperor bowed their heads. This wasn't about power anymore; it was about the absolute realization that Volt owned the very concept of their existence.
The event ended with a massive feast. The King of Gold ended up sharing a sandwich with the floating leg, and the Dark Lord started a book club with the CFO protagonist. The Empire of the Violet Star had reached a state of "Multiversal Harmony" that the Council of Void-Walkers could never achieve with their rules and deletions.
As the stars (which were now HD-enhanced) twinkled above, Volt sat with his family. Vanessa leaned her head on his shoulder. "You really turned a multiversal crisis into a garden party, didn't you?"
"It's all about the pacing, Vanessa," Volt said, clinking his glass against hers. "A good story needs a bit of humor before the big finale."
Anos looked at the data-stream on his God-Slayer. "Father, the influence is still climbing. We're at 35 million. The 'System' is starting to glow red."