Dragon King: Throne of Demons and Gods-Chapter 190: Act III, Scene XII: Where the Dream Ends

Bel took one breath, then another.

He stood still, holding the void sword at his side. Then he turned his focus inward.

Inside him, it was a library. Fire, lightning, ice, earth, poison... he had gathered many powers.

But he didn't need them now.

He dove deeper.

Past the power of Flame. Past the toxicity of poison. Past every fragment of stolen might. He reached the bottom. The place in himself he barely touched.

There it was.

The essence of the Demon Lord of Destruction: the Authority of Destruction.

He grasped it, and for a moment, there was only silence.

Inside that silence, something began to move.

A black void spread across his mind. Cold, endless. From within it, a surge started to rise.

Outside, nothing changed. Not at first.

Then a wisp of smoke curled from Bel's shoulders. Thin and purple, like steam from boiling ink.

Another tendril rose, then more. The smoke thickened, spiraling upward like a coil. It grew darker, heavier, as if he were burning from the inside, but not with fire.

The smoke twirled faster, wrapping around him in slow rings. The ground under his feet began to tremble.

A low tremor filled the air. Dust lifted, space visibly moved. His sword pulsed once.

Then, the first impact.

The ground cracked under Bel.

The swirling began to grow, the vortex widened. It rose to his knees, then his waist, then his shoulders.

The energy spun like a storm, faster, harder.

Black streaks tore through the walls, purple lightning arced across the ceiling.

Regulus flinched.

He couldn't feel the energy, but he knew. This thing right here was massive.

He stared at Bel, wide-eyed.

What... what is that? He thought to himself.

The sword in Bel's hand flared with deep violet, pulsing in rhythm with his breath.

And the storm of destruction kept growing, no longer just a vortex but a roaring spiral ripping at the walls, pulling in stone, glass, and shadow.

The very moonlight struggled to stay.

The cracked floor splintered further. The glass panels above cracked before exploding outward, sucked into the spin.

Even Regulus's body on the ground trembled against the pull, small cuts opening there and there, where stray shards sliced past.

Bel stood in the eye of the storm, focused inward. He could feel it now, the edge of his will. The cusp of a new attack.

Not fire, not raw power. A pure concentration of Destruction.

His grip on the blade tightened. He wasn't sure what would happen next… but this time, he knew he could do it, and Regulus understood this.

Regulus staggered back, lifting his hands toward Bel as the vortex swallowed the garden.

He couldn't see clearly anymore, just swirling void and flares of purple, but he could locate Bel.

"Now... that'll be perfect," he muttered, and then focused, forming the seal in his mind.

A domain was a concept. It was a territory etched into the fabric of the world.

If an attack was the power of an individual, a domain was in theory extending the being of the individual outside their body.

Bel's power was just an attack, Regulus needed to frame it, to name it.

His fingers glowed faintly. White light wrapped around his wrists, racing up to his elbows, a silver contrast against the dark.

Concept: Domain. Core: Energy. Anchor: Bel

The mark appeared, glowing, white, hovering behind Bel's back. It latched to the swirl, pulsing in time with the blade.

Regulus stepped back, shielding his mouth with his arm. The noise was unbearable. He had to shout.

"It's ready! Once you strike, it'll activate!"

The world held its breath.

In the heart of the Glass Garden, Bel was ready to turn everything upsidedown.

His blade raised above his shoulder, aound him, the vortex howled, a raging storm of smoke and purple light tearing the Glass Garden apart.

The demons of sleep felt it.

Above the coliseum, Hypnos raised his hand to attack Kardrax, then stopped. A flicker passed across his eyes.

Something... was off.

He looked toward the horizon.

"What is this..." he murmured.

In a fractured mirror-dimension, Morpheus stared at the scene reflected across thousands of panes. His lips trembled, teeth clenched.

"Impossible..."

And above all, in a chaotic void, the Slumbering King paused in his clash with Aurus.

He looked up.

Bel's sword never moved. Only his stance did.

Then, he shifted.

Time broke.

He cut.

One slash.

A clean stroke from right to left. It made no sound, no flash.

But the moment he completed the slash, a wave began to form behind the path of the sword,

A violet line of light, as thin as a hair at first, expanded.

It grew, slowly, then fast.

Like a wall, a tsunami of pure force spread forward, swallowing stone and light and color.

Buildings vanished like chalk drawings under rain.

The wave rolled through the city, and the seal activated.

Instead of destruction, there was transformation.

Color drained. Shadows blinked out.

The Dreamscape faded.

The world changed, overwritten be another authority.

What had been warm, dreamlike blue turned black and white. Distortions vanished in bubbles. Sound turned hollow.

And the line kept going.

Street after street vanished, bridges, towers, domes.

People looked up. Some gasped. Some ran. Some dropped to their knees, praying any God to protect them from the inevitable.

Then they were caught.

The wave hit them. Pulled them, dragged them.

Like ink caught in water, they twisted, pulled into the new world.

Adventurers and demons alike screamed and vanished.

The whole world tilted.

And the wave kept going.

Above the city, the slash became a giant wave, swallowing Castella whole.

In a side street, Lyraen stood frozen, her hand gripping Maël's sleeve.

She stared at the horizon, mouth wide open.

The wave was coming.

"Holy...!"

Maël was calmer, watching the light swallowing them.

Inside the Library, Airi and Crest reached the final door.

They hesitated at first, then Airi pushed it open.

Nothing inside. Just darkness.

But as they pushed the door further open, they could see more shapes, and one in particular in the middle of the room, with two yellow eyes opened.

Mammon.

They held their breath.

And then the wave reached them.

The light took everything.

The coliseum fell apart.

The people in the streets disappeared.

Sacreds, demons, civilians.

All of them were caught.

Time slowed.

The city turned black and white.

The air bent. The sky cracked.

Reality broke into bubbles and light.

And then... silence.