Omega Ascension System[BL]

The rogue king was already pulling on his dark armor, the pieces clicking together with eerie smoothness as if the shadows themselves fastened them for him. "Farrell and the Dukes are gathering in the war hall. Arcadia attacked Gravethorn first but then the Dark Hand came for the capital. My domain. If I don’t answer with strength, the Dark Lands will splinter." Elian’s stomach lurched. From the rush of intimacy to the cold slap of politics in seconds... it was dizzying. "Kyren, you just... we just—" Kyren smirked faintly, fastening his chestplate. "Yes. And now I’m going to tell my Dukes that Arcadia’s blood will stain their blades sooner rather than later." . . By the time they reached the war hall, Elian had freshend up and dressed hastily, though he still felt flushed under his collar. The chamber was massive, circular, with obsidian pillars carved into the shapes of monstrous beasts from the abyss. Crimson light filtered through high, narrow windows, casting the long table in shades of blood. Farrell, Kyren’s Commander, stood tall at the table’s head, scarred and grim. Beside him sat the Dukes of the Dark Lands—seven figures who ruled vast territories in Kyren’s domain. Their armor and robes marked them each distinctly, but their auras were the same: sharp, lethal, ready to draw blood. One was lean and sharp-eyed, tapping his clawed fingers on the table. Another was hulking and silent, leaned back with a warhammer at his side. And then there was Duke Onika—Elian recognized her immediately. A woman with lush black hair and armor, her jaw tight with tension. Every gaze turned when Kyren entered. "My King," Farrell said, bowing low, though his tone carried warning. "They’re restless. They demand action." Kyren strode forward without hesitation, the crimson cloak clung to his armor sweeping behind him. "Then they will have it." Elian slipped into a seat behind him, beyond anxious. He felt the tension in the air—the suspicion, the hunger for war, the fear. [Everyone here could end you in a second. A fun thought, isn’t it?]

Fucking h— Onika stood first, slamming her hand on the table. "Arcadia dared to attack Gravethorn. And then there was the attack here in the capital suspected to be from the Dark Hand. You defended us, yes—but where is justice now? Where is vengeance?" "Vengeance," the hulking duke rumbled, his deep voice vibrating the air. "Yes. Arcadia must pay." Another voice cut in, his smile thin and cruel. "Or perhaps we wait. Let this mysterious Dark Hand organisation bleed Lunaria and Arcadia dry before we make a move. Why should we spend Dark Land blood first?" Murmurs rippled through the chamber. Kyren slammed his fist against the obsidian table, the crack echoing like thunder. "Because Arcadia already crossed the line. They didn’t just attack Gravethorn. They revealed the Dark Hand’s influence. Their poison spreading across the continent. If we wait, we rot. If we hesitate, we are devoured." The room fell silent. Meanwhile, Elian shivered. He’d heard Kyren speak with command before, but never like this—never with such ruthless conviction that even the Dukes flinched. "Arcadia sent witches into my land," Kyren continued, his voice low. "They burned one of our cities. They bled our people. That is not a border skirmish. That is war. And war is what they’ll get." Onika’s eyes gleamed, sharp with approval. "Finally." But another Duke tilted his head. "And what of Lunaria? Will you drag them into this too? Or will we still call them allies?" Elian froze, all eyes flicking toward him for just a moment. His stomach twisted. He was Lunarian—he was the reminder of the fragile peace Kyren once sought. Kyren didn’t hesitate. "Lunaria has a choice. They either stand aside or stand with Arcadia and burn with them." The chamber erupted in shouts, some of approval, some of outrage. But Kyren raised his hand and the noise died at once. "Make no mistake," Kyren growled, his crimson gaze sweeping over each Duke. "The Dark Lands will not be Arcadia’s victim. We will not cower in shadows while they strangle the continent. Tonight, I will speak not just to you, but to every corner of this land. I will tell the continent what Arcadia has done. And then..." He leaned forward, baring his teeth in a predatory grin. "Then we march." Elian’s chest tightened.

He could feel the gravity of it—the shift, the inevitability. War was no longer whispers in the dark. Kyren was about to make it real, and there would be no going back. Onika stood again, her voice ringing. "You’re more than a king worthy of the Dark Lands." [Ugh, why does it feel like she’s boot licking after her incompetence with Gravethorn?] The others muttered, some hesitant, some eager, but no one dared outright defy Kyren now. Farrell’s gaze flicked briefly to Elian, then back to Kyren. "Then we prepare the announcement, my King. The continent will hear you." Kyren nodded once. "See to it." Elian swallowed hard, his pulse thundering in his ears. He didn’t know whether to be proud, terrified, or both. Kyren had given him tenderness in bed... Ish. But here, in this hall, he was something else entirely. He was the King of Shadows. And tonight, the continent would feel his wrath.