Chapter 36: The Sovereign's Majesty

Silence descended.

A heavy, suffocating silence that engulfed the entire summit of the Mountain of Beginning and End.

Every person present stared at the man standing in the heavens with eyes widened so far that they seemed ready to burst from their sockets.

No one was capable of comprehending what they were seeing.

He had returned.

The legend whom the entire world had believed to have vanished forever...

had returned after five thousand years.

Whispers began to spread throughout the tiers on either side of the stone table.

"No... this can't be real."

"I must be dreaming..."

"How can he still be alive? Didn't he suffer a fatal wound five thousand years ago?"

"It's him... I'm certain of it."

"A historical legend whom the entire world believed had disappeared and been swallowed by the passage of time..."

"He's returned to the world after five thousand years."

No one dared to raise their voice.

Even those who whispered were uncertain whether they should trust their own eyes.

But once everyone had confirmed the identity of the man standing in the heavens...

something happened that no one had expected.

The representatives of the lower races seated within the tiers rose simultaneously.

Then they all bowed toward Fafnir.

Their voices rang out as one:

"These humble ones salute the legendary Human Emperor!"

Their unified voices rose above the summit, reverberating through the mountains and the endless black clouds.

Not a single representative of the lower races dared display arrogance or disrespect.

For the man standing before them was not merely an ancient Human Emperor.

He was Fafnir.

The man whose name had become synonymous with some of the bloodiest eras in the history of Gandalia.

The man renowned throughout the world for his cruelty, his brutality, and his pride—a pride that had never permitted anyone to stand above him.

And so...

the respect they showed him was inseparable from fear.

Meanwhile, Isabelle continued staring at Fafnir.

Her eyes were filled with a mixture of astonishment and dread.

She had heard countless stories about this man.

Indeed, the history of the Elven Race itself contained records of the Human Emperor.

But reading about history was one thing...

standing before the very person who had created it was something else entirely.

She slowly drew a breath.

Then, as though she had finally regained her senses, she rose from her throne.

Placing a hand over her chest, she bowed slightly.

"Isabelle, Seventh Queen of the Elven Race, pays her respects to Emperor Fafnir."

Silence followed for a brief moment.

Then Vulcan rose from his throne.

His face remained rigid, but his eyes were filled with unmistakable caution.

"The King of the Werewolves, Vulcan, pays his respects to the true sovereign of humanity."

Then Elena stood.

Her expression was cold, but even that icy composure could not conceal the tension in her eyes.

She placed a hand over her chest.

"Elena, Queen of the Vampires and wife of Vlad Dracula, pays her respects to the legendary Emperor Fafnir."

Then Gabriel rose.

His sacred aura briefly spread around him before he restrained it.

"Gabriel, one of the Four Archangels, pays his respects to the Human Sovereign."

Finally...

Lilith rose.

Her two black wings shifted gracefully behind her.

She cast a lingering glance toward Fafnir, and a soft smile appeared upon her lips, carrying the strange allure for which she was renowned.

In a gentle voice, she said:

"Lilith, Queen of Lust and one of the Seven Demon Kings, pays her respects to the Greatest Human... Fafnir."

Then only Teresa remained.

She did not move.

She continued staring at Fafnir.

At his face.

At those black eyes.

As though she were no longer looking at the legendary Emperor who had returned after five thousand years...

but at someone else.

Someone from her past.

Someone whose memory she had carried with her throughout all these centuries.

She felt the gazes of the rulers around her.

Only then did she seem to realize that she was the sole person who had not yet risen.

She finally returned to her senses.

Slowly, she stood.

But when her voice emerged, it was different from those of the others.

It carried longing.

Nostalgia.

And beneath it all...

a profound sense of guilt.

"Teresa Fenrir, Empress of the Beasts, pays her respects to the Supreme Emperor... Fafnir."

Silence returned.

The six rulers had paid their respects to Fafnir.

Not because they shared a friendly relationship with him.

Nor because they were his subordinates.

There was a much simpler reason.

Fear.

Fafnir had been infamous thousands of years ago for his arrogance and overwhelming pride.

He had known himself to be the strongest.

And he had acted accordingly, without the slightest hesitation.

Therefore, none of them was willing to take the risk.

Failing to salute him could easily be interpreted as an insult.

And insulting a man like Fafnir...

could be enough to unleash a massacre.

Every one of them was thinking the same thing:

We do not want this ancient monster to become angry.

Thorinn and Eleanor watched from either side of the human throne.

They watched the six rulers pay their respects to their sovereign.

Then they exchanged a brief glance.

A smug, almost triumphant smile appeared on Thorinn's face.

Eleanor, too, could not suppress a small smile of satisfaction.

It was a gratifying sight.

Those rulers who had treated humanity with arrogance for thousands of years...

were now standing before their sovereign and paying him respect.

The sight filled both of them with deep satisfaction.

Thorinn whispered:

"If our soldiers could see this..."

Eleanor smiled.

"They would probably celebrate for an entire month."

Thorinn chuckled softly.

"I know I would."

At that moment...

Fafnir raised his eyes.

He gave everyone one final glance.

Then...

he took a single step.

And vanished.

At that instant...

the faces of the six rulers went pale.

Their bodies stiffened.

Only one thought flashed through their minds:

He is angry.

He had vanished from his position...

to attack!

Their stances changed instantly.

Vulcan prepared himself for battle.

Gabriel's sacred aura erupted around him.

Crimson energy began gathering around Elena.

Isabelle's gaze sharpened.

Lilith's smile disappeared.

As for Teresa...

she stared at the place where Fafnir had vanished.

Then he appeared.

Calmly.

Beside the throne reserved for humanity.

He stood there as though nothing had happened.

He looked at the throne.

He stared at it for several moments.

Then his expression changed.

It became dark.

Gloomy.

So displeased that his face seemed almost capable of dripping with rain.

He spoke in a deep voice:

"Do you expect this great one to sit upon a pathetic chair like this?"

No one answered.

No one dared.

Fafnir raised one hand.

He waved it.

In the next instant...

the throne collapsed.

It turned to dust.

Its fragments scattered through the air before vanishing completely.

Everyone stared at the empty space.

But Fafnir did not stop.

He waved his hand once more.

Suddenly...

the summit trembled.

A tremendous roar erupted from deep within the earth.

The black stone beneath everyone's feet shook violently.

The expressions of the gathered beings changed.

Then the ground behind the place where the former throne had stood began to move.

The earth rose.

The ground warped.

Massive slabs of black stone surged upward toward the heavens.

Then they began to take shape.

Slowly...

piece by piece...

a throne emerged.

A colossal throne.

Terrifying.

Majestic.

So magnificent that the previous throne looked like nothing more than a cheap piece of furniture beside it.

But its size was not what sent chills through those watching.

It was what the throne was made of.

Skulls.

Massive skulls.

Small skulls.

Skulls of every size and shape.

Skulls belonging to the various Superior Races.

There were the skulls of Beasts.

Demons.

Werewolves.

Vampires.

Elves.

Angels.

And Humans.

All of them were embedded within the black stone, as though the mountain itself had forged Fafnir a throne from the remains of his enemies.

The rulers' expressions froze.

Each of them stared at the skulls belonging to their own race.

The message was unmistakable.

Fafnir had not merely rejected the throne.

He was declaring before them all that he did not regard the Superior Races as beings worthy of respect.

That the skulls beneath his throne were nothing more than ornaments.

Isabelle's expression twisted with fury.

Elena's face became even colder.

Vulcan clenched both fists.

Gabriel remained composed, but a sharp glint appeared in his eyes.

Lilith...

was different.

She stared at Fafnir with an almost obsessive expression.

The sight had not frightened her.

If anything...

it had only deepened her fascination with him.

Teresa...

looked at him with a tender expression.

And in her eyes...

there was guilt.

No one spoke.

Fafnir stood before his newly formed throne.

Then, with an imposing and regal movement...

he sat down.

He crossed one leg over the other.

Resting his head against the fist of his left hand...

while his right hand began tapping rhythmically against the armrest.

Tap...

Tap...

Tap...

The simple sound echoed through the deadly silence.

Fafnir raised his eyes.

He looked around.

No one spoke.

He asked:

"Why are you all so silent?"

No one answered.

A faint smile appeared on Fafnir's lips.

Then he cast his gaze across the summit.

"Mount Beginning and End..."

His fingers stopped tapping.

Then he continued:

"The last time I visited this mountain was when I fought that old leech... Vlad."

Everyone froze.

Fafnir continued without the slightest concern:

"It truly has been a long time."

No one needed to ask who he meant by "Vlad."

Vlad Dracula.

King of the Vampires.

One of the oldest monsters in Gandalia.

An ancient existence who had lived since primordial eras.

During the Primordial War five thousand years ago, he had been known as one of the four strongest beings in the entire world.

And yet...

Fafnir had just called him...

"that old leech."

Expressions began to change.

Even some of the lower-race representatives could not conceal their astonishment.

"He insulted Vlad Dracula..."

"Could it be that he never feared him, even back then?"

"Vlad was one of the four strongest beings in the world!"

"And yet, to Fafnir, he is nothing more than an old leech..."

As for Elena...

her expression turned frighteningly cold.

Her fingers stopped moving.

Fafnir's words were a direct insult to her husband.

Anger began to rise within her.

But she said nothing.

She did not dare.

She knew exactly who the man sitting before her was.

Her fear was not that she might lose a battle.

Her fear was that defending her husband could become the reason she—and everyone else on this summit—lost their lives.

Elena lowered her eyes slightly.

But Fafnir noticed.

He looked at her.

A faint smile appeared on his face.

"What is it?"

Elena did not answer.

Fafnir continued:

"Did I say something wrong?"

Elena raised her eyes to meet his.

Then she answered coldly:

"No."

Silence.

"But it seems you have not changed."

Several people widened their eyes.

As for Fafnir...

he smiled.

A small, enigmatic smile.

"Of course I haven't changed."

Then he rested his head against his hand once more.

His fingers resumed their tapping against the armrest.

Tap...

Tap...

Tap...

The sound echoed throughout the summit.

And in that moment, everyone realized something.

This was no longer the Mountain of Beginning and End they had known.

Nor was this the Seven Superior Races Summit as they had always known it.

From the moment Fafnir appeared...

the balance of the entire gathering had shifted.

The six rulers were no longer the ones dictating the course of the summit.

The Superior Races were no longer the ones setting its rhythm.

Above them all...

one man sat upon his throne.

A man who had returned from the past after five thousand years.

And now...

everyone was waiting to hear what that man would say.

Because they had all realized the same truth:

The gathering of the Seven Superior Races...

was no longer a meeting between seven equal races.

It had become...

a gathering in the presence of Fafnir.