The skies above the rebelling kingdom darkened, not with storm clouds, but with dread.
Zairon stood atop his spirit beast, the great crimson-feathered Roc, whose wingspan blotted out the sun. Below, the gates of the rebellious kingdom, Seradorn, remained closed. A bold declaration had come days earlier from its rulers — they would never kneel, never bend the knee to a self-proclaimed Sovereign.
They would learn.
Zairon's eyes gleamed with wild madness, but his posture remained calm, almost relaxed, as if he wasn't about to descend wrath upon a kingdom, but rather casually visiting.
He descended.
Crimson energy crackled around him as his boots touched the earth. His soldiers didn't follow. They remained in the sky, watching. He didn't need them. Not for this.
From the walls, archers took aim, trembling.
"Fire!" screamed the general.
But before a single arrow could leave a bowstring, the wind screamed louder.
Crimson Crescent Slash.
A single wave of energy erupted from Zairon's hand. Not a sword. Not a weapon. Just a gesture. The wave cleaved through the wall like paper, sending rubble into the sky. Screams followed. Panic erupted.
He walked forward slowly.
"Let it be known," he said aloud, his voice echoing through the minds of every person in Seradorn, "This is what defiance earns."
A battalion of elite knights charged. Hundreds. Armored. Trained. Brave.
Zairon smiled wide — his madness seeping through.
He raised a single finger.
"Collapse."
The earth beneath the charging army shattered. Spikes of spiritual energy burst from the ground like spears. In moments, what was an army was a ruin of metal and blood.
Zairon didn't stop.
He walked straight into the throne room of Seradorn, now deserted except for the shivering king and his advisors.
"I… I surrender…" the king muttered, falling to his knees.
Zairon looked him in the eyes.
"I don't need your surrender. I need your silence."
And with that, he turned. He didn't kill him. He didn't need to. Everyone watching understood the message — the Sovereign doesn't just conquer… he reigns.
Later that night, back at the capital of the Sovereign Territory, his commanders gathered.
Maps were unfurled. New cities marked. Those who resisted were now crossed out — either destroyed or absorbed.
Zairon sat alone atop the Roc, looking at the moon.
His laughter echoed across the night sky.
"More. I need more strength. This world bows too easily. There has to be more."
And as if answering his madness, the sky rippled — just once — faintly.
The story of Earth was nearing its climax.
The story of Raur was yet to begin.
But first, Zairon would make this world… perfect.