Dimension of the 7 Young Heavenly Emperors
"Brother Adirosas..." Anselm's voice trembled as he studied the holographic report. His eyes widened with each detail. "Our brother endured all of this?"
After ascending back to the Higher Realms, Adirosas had immediately summoned his fellow Young Heavenly Emperors to their private dimensional space. As the seven took their respective thrones, an oppressive silence fell over them while they studied the report and images on the central holographic display. The detailed account of Orach's journey left none unmoved - fists clenched unconsciously, eyes grew cold, and waves of barely contained killing intent rippled through the air.
The report revealed their long-lost brother's remarkable journey, first crash-landing in a lower realm, then facing banishment to the Void Realm, where he fought countless battles against Void Beasts and even a legendary Void King. He discovered an impossible planet and received visions of the future. Most profound was the revelation about his former crew — instead of entering the cycle of reincarnation after their sacrifice, they chose to merge with Orach's power, becoming eternal guardians of his tremendous abilities until he could master them himself. Through these trials, he achieved Primordial Godhood, only to crash-land injured in another unexplored lower realm where he encountered a harbinger of future conflicts.
"A mere lower realm being dared to ambush our brother?" Chenyu's aura manifested as countless razor-sharp swords, his gentle and kind demeanor vanishing completely.
"We should descend and destroy that realm," Ayami suggested, her voice ice-cold.
"Sister, that would be too merciful," Haruki said softly, his gentle demeanor giving way to something darker. "We shall open portals across their realm and let our armies teach them the true meaning of consequences. Each day, those insects will learn their insignificance until we descend to deliver final judgment and show them true despair."
Clap
"Enough!" Adirosas's voice cut through the tension. "I understand your rage—believe me, I was enraged when I first learned of this. But that is still our future sister-in-law and our niece's home—" He paused, noticing an unusual silence from their eldest sister. "Big sister Amara?"
Following his gaze, they saw the Blood Princess transfixed by an image on the display. A troubled smile crossed Adirosas's face as he recognized what had caught her attention.
Ayami studied her sister's expression and said softly, "Are you truly that surprised he found love?"
"No," Amara replied softly. "Those feelings... they're long past. I am content being his sister." She gestured, enlarging the image on the central display. "But he's chosen a lower realm woman as his wife and taken another as his daughter. We witnessed how the loss of his crew shattered him. What if..." her voice softened with genuine concern, "what if they lack the talent to ascend? What if he must watch them fade?"
"Sister, this isn't like the Great War," Ayami said softly. "Back then, what broke him was witnessing countless worlds fall to destruction while being powerless to stop it. But Orach has always understood the natural flow of life and death, cherishing his moments with beings from lower realms while accepting the natural conclusion of their journeys. With Diana, it's different—their bond transcends all of this, blessed by the Mother of All Creation herself, ensuring Diana will rise as his empress."
"Perhaps… you're right." As she studied the image of Diana and Rachel with Orach, Amara's stern expression softened into a knowing smile, her eyes glinting with mischief. "While their presence clearly brings our brother happiness, as his eldest sister, I must ensure Diana is truly worthy of him. She'll need to pass certain... tests."
Ayami's lips curved into a matching smirk. "Naturally. It's our sacred duty as big sisters to... properly welcome her." The two exchanged knowing looks, their protective instincts evident—if somewhat devious.
"Sister, your true intentions are showing," Haruki teased, only to receive a swift smack to his head by Ayami.
"Ow! Seriously, sis, was that necessary?" he grumbled, rubbing his head with exaggerated pain.
"Well… this is unexpectedly civil," Chenyu muttered through their mental link, shared only among the brothers.
"Anticlimactic, really," Adirosas agreed, relief evident in his thoughts. "I was bracing for the classic 'How dare this woman seduce our precious brother' rampage."
"Brothers, let's give them credit. They've matured and..." Anselm started, then paused. "Who am I kidding? Seeing them this accepting of a potential partner for any of us feels deeply unsettling."
"Um, brothers..." Haruki's apologetic mental voice cut in. "I may have made a mistake..."
"What mistake?" Anselm asked, but as the words left his mind, they all felt it—that familiar chill down their spines. Slowly, their heads turned mechanically to face their sisters. The siblings' blood ran cold at the sight of their big sisters' smiles—those particular smiles that promised nothing good.
'Haruki, you fool!' the collective thought rang out. 'Why did you let them into our mental link?'
"So... you find our maturity strange?" Ayami's eyes narrowed dangerously at her foolish little brothers.
"Ayami, dear sister," Amara smiled sweetly, but her words sent a chill, "perhaps we've neglected our sisterly duties of discipline lately?"
"Oh, what perfect timing!" Ayami clapped her hands together with deceptive cheerfulness. "I've been trying to learn some new recipes from mother, but unfortunately, our subordinates keep passing out before giving proper feedback. These brothers of ours would make excellent taste testers!"
"NO! Please, sister, we're sorry!" Adirosas cried out, genuine fear in his voice.
Chenyu immediately bowed his head. "We truly apologize, Big Sister Ayami and Big Sister Amara! We'll never question your maturity again!" After all, what use was dignity if one might not live to see tomorrow?
"By the Primordial Gods, I swear to spend a century in meditation within the restricted zone of Mandala!" Anselm declared desperately. "Please forgive this foolish brother!"
Hmph!
The two sisters exchanged satisfied glances at their brothers' groveling. At least they knew when to properly apologize.
Clap!
"Very well, we'll show mercy—this time," Amara declared. "Now, return to your seats. We have more pressing matters to discuss." She enlarged the details about the future visions and the user of Abyssal arts that Orach had encountered. "These future enemies and their apostles require our attention."
"The crack in reality Orach foresaw troubles me," Adirosas mused. "Those star patterns he described... they don't match any of our Higher Realms."
"Not our seven allied Higher Realms, but they could belong to the other six Higher Realms," Amara's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. Her fingers traced the holographic star charts floating before them. "The Avian Higher Realm could very well be where this crack emerges—their recent actions certainly point that way."
"How so, sister?" Haruki leaned forward with keen interest.
"Think about it," Amara's voice was sharp. "They suddenly promote three 'prodigies' as equals to us seven, and these prodigies just happen to wield Abyssal Arts—the exact combat style used by that apostle who dared attack our brother. At our level of existence, such coincidences simply don't exist."
Chenyu's eyes narrowed. "Then you also, believe in our niece Rachel's hypothesis. You believe these three are..."
"Apostles," Amara declared gravely, her eyes narrowing. "With the Avians touting their talents and praising them as our equals, they likely wield influence in the Avian Higher Realm, much as we do across our allied realms. If this holds true, it suggests they've begun infiltrating key positions within the Avian Higher Realm. From there, they could orchestrate the reality-splitting catastrophe that Orach foresaw."
Haruki stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Your analysis has merit, sister. However, we're operating with limited information. Our intelligence on the other six Higher Realms has become severely restricted—their strengthened borders and new regulations have crippled our spy networks, forcing us to withdraw our operatives for their safety. Our star charts of these realms remain incomplete. For now, we can only observe from afar. And while the Avian Realm demands our immediate attention, we must maintain vigilance across all realms—including the possibility of unknown powers lurking in the shadows from undiscovered realms."
"Then perhaps," Adirosas mused, a calculating gleam in his eyes, "we should force their hand."
"Indeed," Ayami turned to Chenyu, her lips curving into a knowing smile. "Brother, didn't you have a recent encounter with these self-proclaimed 'prodigies'?"
Chenyu's expression darkened as he recalled the incident. "Indeed. Three of them approached me. The female kept her distance, studying me, but her two companions..." He scoffed. "Their arrogance was insufferable. They demanded I fight them—after I'd stopped them from harassing my sister—to 'learn my place.' One of my servants was enough to teach them humility." His eyes suddenly widened with understanding. "Ah, now I see where you're going with this, Sister Ayami. Brilliant... absolutely brilliant! Hahaha!" He grinned. "I love it!"
Amara's laughter echoed through the chamber as she grasped Ayami's strategy. "It's been quite some time since we participated in a grand event together." Her gaze swept across the gathering. "These apostles crave recognition and glory—that much is clear from both Orach's encounter and Chenyu's experience. The Avian Realm presents them as our equals, as Young Heavenly Emperors." She turned to Adirosas, a cunning smile playing across her face. "Brother, I believe it's time we revived the Higher Realm Tournament of Power."
"Perfect. A grand stage," Ayami elaborated, "where they cannot refuse to perform. Where their true abilities—and perhaps their true nature—will be revealed for all to witness."
"I support this idea," Anselm nodded approvingly. "Beyond exposing potential apostles, it will also allow us to assess the current strength of all Higher Realms."
"And gather vital intelligence about their star charts and recent activities. With representatives from all realms in attendance, our operatives could access their vessels," Haruki added with a knowing smile. "I fully support this plan."
"Securing approval from the realm rulers should be straightforward, given we're all either their direct descendants or disciples," Ayami said, her eyes gleaming. "We'll announce the tournament under our authority as Young Heavenly Emperors—an open challenge that no ambitious warrior could refuse without losing face. By presenting it as a celebration of inter-realm peace since the last Great War, we ensure that declining participation would be... unwise, since it would make them look weak."
"Excellent," Amara agreed, then turned to Adirosas. "Adirosas, can you coordinate with your masters to prepare a separate dimension for the tournament? I'll draft the formal proposal detailing the structure of the tournament."
Chenyu leaned forward, his expression turning serious. "We should consider including representatives from the lower realms as well. It would help identify potential threats or allies there. And…" A mischievous smirk crossed his face. "I must admit, I'm rather curious to see how our future sister-in-law Diana and niece Rachel would fare."
"Brother Orach would never allow it," Adirosas warned. "He's fiercely protective of them both."
"True," Amara conceded, "but if they choose to participate of their own volition, even he would have to respect their decision. Besides..." She shared a meaningful look with her siblings. "It would give us a proper opportunity to evaluate our future sister-in-law."
Clap!
"Now then," Ayami brought their attention back to the matter at hand. "Let's entrust the tournament structure and rules to Amara. We need a format that will reveal combat styles and force participants to demonstrate their full arsenal of techniques. And naturally, we'll offer the chance to challenge us and claim our titles as reward."
"We should have our subordinates participate as well," Chenyu suggested. "They won't hold back when they know we've designated these apostles as prey. The data we gather from those fights will be invaluable."
The siblings nodded in agreement, but Haruki's expression suddenly darkened. "There's still one matter that we haven't discussed... these thirteen figures big brother Orach saw in his vision. What manner of beings could they be, that we must all face them?"
"Perhaps they're ancient demons?" Anselm ventured. "There are legends of powerful immortals sealed away by the Gods of the God's Domain or the Primordial Gods themselves."
"Their nature matters less than our response," Chenyu declared with quiet authority. "Whether demons, immortals, or something else entirely, they threaten what we protect." He took a deep breath before continuing, his eyes resolute. "Perhaps it's a good thing we are reviving the tournament. It'll now serve an additional purpose — it'll create an opportunity for our own growth. Orach's vision revealed our potential to stand as equals beside his Primordial God form. To reach this level of power and protect our realms and loved ones, we must temporarily withdraw from our duties and dedicate ourselves entirely to cultivation. When the time comes, we shall show everyone why we are known as the seven Demon Prodigies—the seven Young Heavenly Emperors."
Silence descended upon the chamber. One by one, confident smirks spread across the siblings' faces as an unmistakable aura of power saturated the air. No words were needed—their agreement unanimous.
"Finally!" Haruki's eyes gleamed with excitement as he cracked his knuckles. "A chance to test my strength against all of you."
Amara's lips curved into an amused smile. "My, my, little brother. Have you been itching for this opportunity all along? Though I must admit, it has been far too long since we've had a proper sparring match."
"Indeed," Anselm chuckled, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "These apostles might provide some entertainment, but the true spectacle will be our battle royale."
A fierce grin spread across Chenyu's face, his aura pulsing with anticipation. "Then let's make it memorable and end it with a bang."
"In that case," Adirosas interjected thoughtfully, "I'll have to request my masters personally reinforce the dimensional barriers. Our combined power could shatter a normal training dimension like glass."
"Perfect," Chenyu nodded. "While you handle that, we should begin preparing for our individual training regimens."
Amara's expression softened as she placed a protective hand over her stomach. "Start without me. Once my child is born and safely in Mother's care, I'll join you all. As Chenyu said, we must grow stronger to face what's coming."
"About that, sister," Adirosas said, his voice gentle. "Brother Orach has made an interesting proposal. He suggests you descend along with your flagship to the lower realm where he resides with Diana and Rachel. There, he can manifest his Primordial God form aboard your vessel to oversee the birth and bestow his blessing upon the child."
Amara's expression shifted from intrigue to shock before settling into gentle warmth. "That's exactly like him," she whispered, tenderly caressing her belly.
"It's only proper," Ayami nodded approvingly. "Just as Rachel will be our precious niece to love and spoil, so too will your child be our niece or nephew. I'm hoping for a niece, though a nephew would be wonderful too. So our brothers should give their blessings." She turned to the men with a smile that brooked no argument. "Wouldn't you agree, brothers?"
Though they presented themselves as ruthless warriors to the outside world, the siblings showed a gentler side to those they considered family. Their deep bonds meant no coercion was needed—they naturally protected and cherished one another, extending that same love to each other's loved ones.
After finalizing the tournament details and setting the date fifty years hence—accounting for the time difference between higher and lower realms and giving participants ample time to train and travel—the group addressed recent developments. From True God Saranita's emergence in Alacrity to the conflict between Alacrity defense forces and Frost Nebula pirates, and the security issues in the Saiyan Empire's lower realms. They agreed to temporarily dispatch ships to support the Alacrity Chancellor in safeguarding vulnerable territories until their brother's ascension. With decisions made, they dispersed to begin their preparations.
Three days later, the tournament proposal reached the seats of power across the seven allied Higher Realms, with each ruler reacting with varying interest. In the Blood Realm Palace's throne chamber, Primordial Vampire Queen Isangria's lips curved into a smile as she studied the holographic display.
"Reviving the Tournament of Power, huh and at this scale..." she mused, her crimson eyes glinted with intrigue. "Our troublemakers are staging quite a bold and ambitious return." An amused smile playing across her face. "This tournament will certainly shake things up across all realms."
King Makoto of the Demiplanes conferred quietly with his wives—Mio and the visibly excited Tomoe—while in the Death Domain, Ainz Ooal Gown's ethereal eye flames flickered thoughtfully as he discussed the implications with Albedo and Demiurge.
"Hahaha!" Ainz's laughter echoed through the chamber, his ethereal eye flames flaring with amusement. "These young ones never fail to amuse me. Challenging all Higher Realms with such audacity!"
"Indeed, Lord Ainz," Demiurge adjusted his spectacles, a calculating smile playing across his features. "The way they've structured this tournament... it's brilliantly devious. No realm can refuse without appearing weak."
Albedo massaged her temples, though a fond smile tugged at her lips. "Those children... they've barely learned their brother lives, and already they're stirring up trouble across all realms."
"Now, now, Albedo," Ainz raised a skeletal hand thoughtfully. "This tournament presents us with an excellent opportunity. Not only can we assess the current strength of the Higher Realms, but we might also uncover any hidden movements that have escaped our notice." He paused, internally chuckling, 'Plus, it's a perfect excuse to escape that mountain of paperwork for a while.'
Demiurge adjusted his spectacles, a spark of realization lighting his eyes. "Brilliant as always, Lord Ainz! By allowing the Young Heavenly Emperors to take the initiative, we maintain perfect deniability while gathering crucial intelligence on all realms. The timing couldn't be more perfect, especially with those recent disturbances you've been monitoring."
"Such foresight!" Albedo clasped her hands together, her eyes gleaming with adoration. "To think you had already anticipated these developments, Lord Ainz!"
Ainz coughed awkwardly, grateful that his skeletal face couldn't betray his embarrassment. "Yes... well..." He straightened in his throne, deciding to leverage their misunderstanding. "Have Cocytus and Aura begin special training regimens for our representatives. We must ensure Nazarick makes a... suitable impression."
Meanwhile the Five Immortal Families of the Celestial Imperium gathered in urgent council, and the Aetherium Concordance's High Council of Mages began planning the magical infrastructure required.
Even the typically skeptical Mandala Emperor found himself intrigued by the depth of the proposal. In the Alacrity Galactic Alliance, Chancellor Damon watched the bustling Senate chambers with a troubled smile. 'So much for keeping his survival secret a while longer...'
Within five days, all major realms had pledged their participation. Two days later, using the Supreme Ruler of Death's magic, the Young Heavenly Emperors' announcement echoed across all thirteen Higher Realms, officially heralding the return of the Tournament of Power.
"To all warriors beneath the True God rank across the Higher Realms and beyond, we, the Young Heavenly Emperors, hereby declare the revival of the Tournament of Power!"
"Since the last Great War, we have existed in separate spheres, our true strengths unknown to one another. But, in this era of peace, the time has come to shatter these boundaries. In fifty years' time, we shall gather to determine who truly stands at the peak of power."
"To those who doubt their worth—stay in your realm. But to those who dare to dream of greatness, who believe themselves mighty—step forward and prove it. A chance at our titles as Young Heavenly Emperors shall be the ultimate prize. Defeat us, and our titles shall be yours to claim!"
"But know this—we will not show mercy. Challenge us, and witness firsthand why we seven bear these titles. This tournament shall reveal the true hierarchy of power across all realms. Choose your representatives wisely, for their performance shall reflect upon your entire realm."
"The tournament's full structure and rules will soon reach all participating realms. Let it be known—this contest shall test not just raw power, but strategy, skill, and the very essence that defines a true warrior."
"The stage is set. We await your response. Glory to the victors, and may the mightiest prevail!"
As the announcement faded, a profound silence descended across the realms. Across countless worlds and sacred grounds, ancient warriors stirred from meditation while young prodigies' hearts thundered with primal excitement. Those who had grown up on legends of the Tournament's glory now stood transfixed, eyes blazing skyward, sensing their moment had finally arrived. In their spirits burned not merely ambition, but an unquenchable desire to etch their names and legends into the annals of the Higher Realms.
In the Ancient Dragon Higher Realm - Planet Aevum - Dragon Emperor's Palace
In the throne chamber, Emperor Ryshenron, a majestic golden dragon, fell silent as the tournament announcement reverberated through the planet's sky. Tensions ran high among the gathered dragon race elders, each representing their ancient clans.
"Your Majesty," Amanit, the Azure Dragon Elder, broke the silence with careful words. "The fall of the Saiyan Empire has created a power vacuum. This tournament offers our younger generation a chance to reclaim our rightful standing among the Higher Realms."
"I agree, Your Majesty," Jorah, the Golden Dragon Elder, slammed his clawed fist against his armrest. "We've remained in isolation far too long! The other realms have forgotten our might—and now even half-breed Dragonborn dare to mock and look down upon our pure-blooded youth!"
THUD!
Great elder Enronnor's staff struck the floor, his ancient white scales shimming with barely contained power. "Mind your tongue, Jorah. Your clan's declining strength reflects your own clans' failures, not our realm's isolation."
"You dare insult our bloodline in the presence of our Emperor?" Jorah's scales bristled, divine energy crackling around him. "Have you forgotten who leads us?"
Enronnor's eyes gleamed dangerously. "I dare because I can, young one. Or has your pride made you forget the gulf between an Early True God and one who stands at the peak?" The chamber grew heavy with his unleashed pressure, causing even Emperor Ryshenron, a Mid True God, to shift slightly on his throne.
"Enough!" The Emperor's voice sliced through the tension, silencing the chamber.
Tch.
"As you wish, Your Majesty," Enronnor conceded with a slight bow, though his eyes retained their dismissive gleam. "But do keep your kin in check."
"Enronnor, you—" Jorah started to rise, but the Emperor's glare silenced him.
The Emperor then turned to the silent Elder Temer of the Green Dragons. "Your thoughts?"
"We must participate," Temer stated simply. "To do otherwise would confirm their whispers of our decline."
Emperor Ryshenron nodded, and in the next moment, after taking a deep breath, rose from his throne. His Ki manifested as a colossal ethereal dragon that loomed over the palace. His golden scales shimmered as waves of ancestral power from the Empire's luck merged with his aura. The combined energy rippled through the chamber with such intensity that even these ancient dragons bowed their heads in instinctive reverence.
"My children," the Emperor's voice resonated through the skies, "these Young Emperors believe they offer us a challenge. But I see something far greater – an opportunity to remind the thirteen realms why the mere mention of dragon-kind once made immortals tremble!"
Divine flames blazed in his eyes as he spoke, each word resonating with ancient pride and authority. "For too long, we have allowed others to forget who we truly are. The time has come for the descendants of our noble bloodlines to claim their destiny! Spend these fifty years forging yourselves into warriors worthy of our legacy. When the tournament begins, let every realm witness the unmatched might of the Ancient Dragons! Now, my children - RISE AND ANSWER THE CALL!"
ROAR!
The response was deafening. Thousands of young dragons rose as one, their unified roar shaking the foundations of the capital to its core. The sound carried not just raw power, but unwavering promise, "FOR THE GLORY OF OUR ANCESTORS, WE SHALL SHOW ALL REALMS THE MIGHT OF TRUE DRAGONS!"
In the High Demon Higher Realm… Planet Malakor
Dark energies writhed through Planet Malakor's atmosphere while crimson lightning split the skies above the High Demon race's capital. In Empress Malvora's throne room, ancient runes pulsed with forbidden power along obsidian walls, casting an eerie glow across the assembled Archdemon lords. These mightiest rulers of the realm had gathered to address the announcement that had just echoed through their domain.
Demon Empress Malvora, darkness writhing around her regal form, leaned forward on her obsidian throne. "So, the Young Emperors wish to test our strength? How… entertaining."
"We should decline this farce," growled Archdemon Vassago, his crimson eyes blazing. "The demons bow to no one's whims."
A cold laugh echoed through the chamber. All eyes turned to Lady Morya, whose beauty was as lethal as it was captivating. "Are you afraid, Vassago? Or have you forgotten that our younger generation thirsts for battle?"
"Watch your tongue, Morya," Vassago snarled, dark flames dancing around his clawed hands.
"Enough." Malvora's voice cut through the tension like a blade. Her eyes closed momentarily as she contemplated. When they opened again, her crimson eyes shone briefly. "This tournament could serve our interests well. During our seclusion, we have evolved beyond what the other realms remember. Our experiments with chaos energy have borne fruit."
Rising from her obsidian throne, dark power crackling around her form, she continued, "I have reached the Half-Step True God King level, matching that wretch Isangria." Her fist clenched, waves of demon ki pulsating through the chamber. "Let us use this tournament not just to display our power, but to assess the current landscape of the Higher Realms."
"My Empress, I concur," Archdemon Amous said, a greedy gleam in his eyes. "With the Saiyan Empire's fall, the Seven Realms Alliance has weakened considerably. Alacrity, despite their True Gods, has lost a crucial pillar. Perhaps now—"
"Are you truly this naive?" Malvora's voice dropped to a dangerous whisper, her expression turning solemn. The other Archdemons exchanged knowing glances, some shaking their heads in dismay.
"I... I don't understand, Empress," Amous faltered, suddenly aware of the shift in atmosphere.
Malvora's face darkened as ancient memories surfaced. The image of a bespectacled demon with a cruel smile flashed in her mind - a reminder of their greatest humiliation. Her aura exploded outward, an oppressive pressure that brought Amous to his knees. With each deliberate step she took toward him, the pressure intensified, cracking his bones and drawing screams of agony.
"You forget," she hissed, her voice heavy with bitter experience, "what happened a millennium ago. A single subordinate from the Death Domain decimated a good portion of our forces within an hour. In this very chamber, that demon forced me—your Empress—to kneel before him while he sat upon my throne, his foot pressing my face against these very stones." Her aura pulsed, drawing fresh streams of black blood from Amous's trembling form. "Your predecessor met his end that day—and still you dare suggest we challenge their allies?"
"Even now, with my power at Half-Step True God King, we dare not risk open conflict with the Seven Realms - not while the Death Domain stands among them." Her eyes flashed with a mix of fury and lingering fear. "We learned this lesson when we foolishly attempted to claim one of their protected lower realms. They sent just one demon - a being unknown even to us, the progenitors of all demon-kind - to humble our entire empire. Had their Supreme Being wished it, our realm's order would have been erased from existence that very day."
"...For...give me... Empress," Amous managed to gasp through broken teeth.
"Empress," Archdemon Asathi spoke softly, her elegant features betraying concern, "he will not survive much more."
With a contemptuous "Hmph," Malvora reined in her aura and returned to her throne. The other Archdemons relaxed visibly, taking their seats along the path leading to the dais.
Through a shimmering portal, Malvora summoned General Mullon, who knelt before her, casting only a brief glance at the broken form of Amous. Malvora's voice rang with authority as she declared, "Hear my decree, Mullon. Spread word to every city - the High Demon Realm will answer the Young Heavenly Emperors' challenge. Let our young warriors train, let their hunger for battle grow. When the tournament begins, we shall show all realms that the High Demons have risen anew!"
The Archdemons nodded their approval while Mullon's fists clenched with anticipation. After a millennium of isolation, their race would finally step back onto the grand stage. With a resolute bow, he departed to relay the message and begin preparations for the coming tournament.
In the Avian Higher Realm…
High in the celestial spires of the Luminous Citadel, the Avian Council gathered in their sacred chamber. Pristine wings folded elegantly behind their backs as they contemplated the tournament announcement.
"How... presumptuous," Grand Elder Jahael's voice carried both authority and disdain. "These young ones dare to orchestrate an event of such magnitude?"
"We cannot dismiss this challenge," Elder Amaiti interjected, her golden eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "They have secured the blessings of their realm rulers, and more importantly... their announcement came through the power of the Death Domain itself. Our absence would be… noted to say the least."
A collective shudder passed through the chamber as wings rustled involuntarily. All present recalled the terrifying presence that had ascended from the Lower Realms eons ago—the Supreme Being who sits upon the throne of the Death Domain, whose mere name carried such weight that it struck fear into the hearts of beings across all realms.
"Our position among the Higher Realms is already precarious," Elder Temel stated, his wings betraying a rare show of agitation. "We've barely begun recovering from our fall in rankings after the last tournament. Like it or not, participation is not just necessary—it's crucial."
Elder Sekina, the venerable Keeper of the Royal Archives, stepped forward to address the gathering. "This tournament may present a valuable opportunity," she noted, gauging her fellow Elders' reactions. "Our younger generation has grown… restless of late. Such an event could not only foster their growth but also reignite their warrior spirit."
"Restless?" Elder Phael's voice dripped with contempt. "Are you speaking of our own youths, or those lower realm upstarts who presume to be one of us? The girl, I grant you, shows some promise. But those two boys..." His wings trembled with barely contained rage.
Elder Arahel's posture stiffened at the mention of her charges. "I share your reservations about their... antics. But we cannot deny their potential. After the massacre in the last tournament—when those seven demons slaughtered our youth—our younger generation lost their will to compete. They grew complacent, content with mediocrity. These three, despite their flaws, have reignited the flame of ambition in our youths."
"Their strength does not excuse their depravity," Phael countered, his voice tight with controlled fury. "Their cultivation may be impressive, but their behavior... their treatment of our people... is inexcusable. Both boys display nothing but arrogance and shamelessly indulge their base desires."
"They've earned their privileges through strength," Elder Adina interrupted coldly. "In the Higher Realms, power dictates all."
The chamber fell deathly silent as Elder Sabriel turned to face Adina, his expression a mask of disbelief. "Is this how you justify what happened to your granddaughter? How you rationalize Mesren's actions? She came to you weeping for help, Adina—she had escaped his clutches bearing wounds of body and spirit—and you sent her back to that monster? Your own flesh and blood was violated, and you did nothing!"
Adina met his gaze unflinchingly. "Mesren represents our future—a warrior with the potential to match those seven monsters. My granddaughter… she serves a greater purpose now. Her sacrifice will help restore our realm's glory."
"Glory?" Phael's voice trembled with rage and despair. "Even after both Mesren and Leonz suffered defeat at the hands of mere servants of the Yuan family? After Mesren's failed attempt to harass their princess and provoke one of those seven monsters—that Yuan heir?"
"Temporary setbacks," Adina replied with unwavering conviction. "Such defeats will only forge them stronger."
Before the argument could escalate further, Grand Elder Jahael's voice cut through the tension like a blade. "Enough! Arahel, begin their training preparations. We have fifty years to prepare. Make them worthy of representing our realm."
As the council dispersed with respectful bows, Jahael held back Phael and Sabriel with a subtle mental command. Once alone, his expression softened slightly. "I understand your concerns, perhaps better than you know. But tread carefully. The King has staked much on these three, and opposing his will openly would be... unwise."
"With respect, Grand Elder," Phael's voice trembled with controlled fury, "are we not sacrificing our realm's very soul? Mesren treats our people like possessions. When someone catches his lustful eye—whether young maidens or married women—he wields his authority with unspeakable cruelty. My investigators documented numerous cases before the reports were suppressed. This monster forces families to watch his acts of violation. He compels husbands to kneel and witness their wives' defilement, threatening not only their lives but their children's to ensure submission. Now he even forces these husbands to praise him during these acts. He calls these violations 'initiations'—as if they were sacred rites—before tearing families apart and adding the traumatized women to his growing collection of victims. And all of this occurs with our King's explicit blessing! The reports vanish, the victims suffer in silence, and we are to pretend not to see. What manner of future are we building when such atrocities are not merely tolerated, but sanctioned?"
Jahael's expression hardened as he leaned forward. "Your reports only confirm my suspicions. However, we must proceed with utmost caution. Direct confrontation would be disastrous at this stage. Continue documenting everything discreetly. When the moment presents itself..."
"And when will that be?" Sabriel's wings trembled with barely contained fury. "How many more innocents must suffer while we bide our time?"
"Until we can act without endangering the entire realm," Jahael's voice was firm but carried a note of pain. "The King's investment in these three goes far beyond mere favoritism. There are... darker forces at play, forces that even I dare not challenge openly. Not yet."
Phael's eyes widened in disbelief. "You, Grand Elder? But you stand second only to the King himself in power. What could possibly..."
Jahael's ancient eyes clouded with concern. "There is a shadow surrounding those three—something unnatural. When I attempted to probe them with my Ki, the backlash nearly crippled me. Whatever protects them... it's beyond anything I've encountered in all my life."
"There's more," Sabriel interjected, his voice barely above a whisper. "I fear something has fundamentally changed in Adina. The grandmother who once doted on her granddaughter would never... Could these boys be wielding some form of corruption?"
Jahael's eyes clouded with sorrow. "Adina's judgment isn't clouded by dark magic, but by something far more dangerous—vengeance. When the Blood Princess took her son in the last tournament, watching him being torn apart... it shattered more than just her heart. Finding the Blood Princess beyond her reach, she suppressed her grief and and concentrated in raising her granddaughter. But now these three have become her instruments of retribution. She sees in their talents a chance to strike back at those who took away her precious son, and she'll sacrifice everything—her honor, her family, even her own granddaughter's soul—to grasp that bitter hope."
"The tournament, then. Fifty years to prepare..." Phael fell silent, a shadow crossing his features. In his mind, an unthinkable contingency took shape—one that would mark him as a traitor to his own kind. But if protecting their realm demanded such sacrifice, he would bear that burden.
"Indeed," Jahael nodded, sensing the subtle shift in Phael's emotions but choosing not to address it. "In the meantime, strengthen your networks and gather allies. When the opportunity presents itself, we must be ready to act decisively and completely."
As the three elders departed, their wings casting long shadows in the fading light, each carried the weight of their realm's future—and its sins—upon their shoulders. In the distance, training echoes filled the sacred training grounds as the younger generation practiced under the teachers' watchful eyes, unaware that their Elders had embarked on a path that would either save their realm or doom it.
Meanwhile, in the lower training grounds...
Mesren stood at the edge of the practice field, his perfect features twisted in contempt as he watched the younger Avians spar. Running a hand through his silver hair, he sneered, "Pathetic. Is this truly the best our realm can offer?"
Beside him, Leonz lounged against a marble pillar, his casual posture hiding the predatory gleam in his golden eyes. "They serve their purpose well enough," he remarked with a dark smile. "Fresh blood keeps our training... interesting."
"True enough," Mesren chuckled. "Though I tire of such easy prey. This upcoming tournament... now that promises real entertainment."
"Your overconfidence cost us dearly against the Yuan family," came a sharp, feminine voice from behind them. "Or have you forgotten so quickly?"
Both males turned to face their third companion. Aidan cut an imposing figure - her blonde hair pulled back in a side ponytail, face obscured by an obsidian mask that revealed only her striking heterochromatic eyes - one emerald, one crimson. Her form-fitting black suit was accented with structured shoulder pads and dark silver gauntlets. A black cape flowed behind her, while the pin on her collar - bearing three pairs of furled wings - marked her as one of the realm's most promising warriors. Despite her beauty, there was nothing soft in her gaze as she regarded her teammates. To her, they were less than insects.
"The Yuan brats got lucky," Mesren snarled, his perfect features twisting. "Next time—"
"Next time will be different," Aidan cut him off, coldly. "You both will train properly." Her gaze shifted to the group of young female Avians who kept stealing glances at Mesren. Their admiring looks made her stomach turn—they were like moths drawn to a flame, unaware of the inferno that awaited them. With the King's blessing shielding him, Mesren's victims' testimonies had been buried, their warnings dismissed as mere slander. Her jaw clenched beneath her mask.
"No more games," she continued, her cold eyes meeting his. "No more... distractions."
Leonz affected a playful pout. "You've become so serious since that loss, Aidan. Where's your sense of fun?"
"Unlike you two," she stated coldly, "I understand what we're facing. I care nothing for this realm's future, and neither do you. But against what's coming, you'll need to train seriously - or you'll die."
Mesren's eyes narrowed dangerously. "You speak of those seven as if they're True Gods. We have powers beyond imagining, Aidan. We grow stronger by the day. In fifty years, we'll bring them to their knees." His gaze traveled over her body with undisguised hunger. "So relax... let's have some fun instead. It could be... mutually beneficial."
Before he could blink, Mesren felt his throat constrict. Warning signals flashed before his eyes as an invisible force drove him to his knees. Through the crushing pressure, he heard Aidan's voice, cold as the void between stars as she revealed a hand making a pinching gesture from beneath her cape: "Be careful not to choke on your aspirations, worm."
Leonz stumbled back, face pale. Despite sharing Mesren's Half-Step Early King Rank, seeing his comrade so easily subdued sent chills down his spine. When his gaze met Aidan's frigid stare, the warning was clear.
"Listen carefully," she said, her tone promising violence. "Cross me again, and I'll show you horrors beyond your imagination. Are we clear?"
Leonz nodded frantically while Mesren, released from her hold, gasped for air. Without another word, Aidan turned and strode toward the portal array building, leaving the gathered crowd in stunned silence.
Minutes later, she stood before a swirling portal, her Ki forming a protective barrier around her as a Mid King rank expert channeled power to maintain the gateway. With a deep breath, she stepped through, emerging in the vastness of a lower realm.
"System, appear," she commanded.
A translucent blue interface materialized before her eyes.
Welcome back, Mistress Aidan!
"Scan for suitable planets."
Scanning... Detected multiple planetary options:
-5 uninhabitable planets within range
-3 habitable worlds in proximity
-2 of these show signs of indigenous civilizations
Recommendation: The inhabited worlds offer greater energy yield for your advancement.
"Guide me to the nearest uninhabited world," Aidan commanded, her tone brooking no argument.
As you command…
A holographic star chart materialized before her, plotting an efficient course through the void. The system highlighted her destination—the nearest lifeless world—with a pulsing red marker.
Following the system's guidance, she soared through the void. As she approached the planet and began her descent through its atmosphere, her system displayed detailed readings.
Planet analysis complete:
-Composition: Dense metallic core detected
-Energy density: Above Average
- Estimated power yield: 47% higher than previous target
"Perfect," Aidan murmured, descending through the crimson clouds. The barren surface stretched endlessly below, mountains of bare rock jutting against an alien sky.
Landing in a vast crater, she knelt and pressed both palms to the ground. Dark energy crackled at her fingertips as she channeled her Ki.
"System Devour - Maximum output."
Activating Heaven Devouring System... Maximum output
Dark energy crackled more intensely this time, spreading like veins of black lightning across the planet's surface. The ground soon trembled as her power penetrated deeper, reaching the planet's core. As the invasive energy seeped through every layer, the world's essence began to drain systematically, its very life force yielding to her absorption.
Warning: Accelerated absorption may cause planetary instability within 47 seconds. Recommend immediate withdrawal after process initiation.
"Noted. Proceed."
The planet's very core seemed to shudder as Aidan channeled her power deeper, drawing out its essence. The ground beneath her feet began to splinter, fissures of molten energy racing across the surface.
Reaching the critical threshold, she shot skyward as the planet convulsed below, its death throes more violent than her previous conquest. The surface fractured, with fissures of molten energy crackling across its face like lightning. As it finally shattered, the cataclysmic explosion sent waves of raw power surging through her system.
Power absorption complete.
"Two more," she whispered, her eyes fixed on the system interface materializing before her. The cultivation status bar crept toward the Early King Level threshold—a mere step away from Mid King breakthrough. "Two more worlds until I break through."
Her thoughts in the next moment drifted to the upcoming tournament—and to the one opponent who truly mattered. A cold smile curved beneath her mask as she contemplated their inevitable reunion.
"When you learn who I truly am, Orach… what will you do?" Her gaze swept across the drifting planetary debris as she whispered, "Soon, our battle will begin anew." Her words dissolved into the void as she plotted her course to the next target, leaving only destruction in her wake.