The Ice Continent was still and serene, blanketed in its eternal white. The skies were a pale blue, laced with northern winds, and the horizon shimmered like frost-covered glass. Atop a majestic crystalline spire carved by ancient magic, Guy Crimson, the Primordial Demon Lord, reclined upon his throne of obsidian and silver, his piercing crimson eyes half-lidded with content.
Beside him sat Velzard, the White Ice Dragon, her long snow-white hair flowing behind her like silk spun from moonlight. Her beauty was regal and untouched, her aura commanding and cold. Despite their natures, the atmosphere between them was casual, a quiet moment shared between two apex beings.
They were being served by Rain and Misery, Guy's loyal maids. The pair, dressed in their formal black-and-white attire, poured wine into crystal glasses and laid out a table of delicacies frozen from mythic beasts.
"You feel it too, don't you?" Guy said casually, lifting his glass but not drinking. "The Jura Forest… It's quiet again. That strange pressure I sensed before, it vanished. And yet… it lingers faintly. Like a storm that passed but left the scent of lightning behind."
Velzard took a sip of her glacial wine, eyes half-closed.
"Mn. I noticed it as well. A subtle ripple in the laws of this world. Foreign… but not hostile. Yet unnaturally dense. Almost as if existence itself had to make room for something—or someone."
Suddenly, the air shivered.
A pulse. Barely perceptible, yet it made both Rain and Misery flinch. Even Velzard's eyes narrowed slightly, her expression sharpening like a blade drawn from a sheath.
The sky above darkened momentarily, not from clouds, but from magic—layered, ancient, incomprehensibly complex.
And then—he appeared.
Not with fanfare, but with a graceful, deliberate step from a swirling fold in reality itself, as though the world had simply parted for him.
Varvatos, clad in regal black armor with silver patterns dancing like constellations, stood atop the snowy spire opposite the Demon Lords. His cloak, lined with violet threads of arcane essence, fluttered in a wind that hadn't existed before he arrived. His eyes, calm and unreadable, scanned the scene—not with arrogance, but clarity.
He looked like a king who had seen the rise and fall of empires… and had tired of both.
"So this is the Ice Continent," he said, his voice deep and composed, like polished obsidian cracking through silence. "The home of the strongest Demon Lord... and the Ice Dragon Empress."
Guy raised a brow, intrigued but unbothered. He set down his glass and leaned forward with a smile.
"Oh? A guest with manners. That's rare. And bold of you to step into our domain so casually. You're not from this world, are you?"
Varvatos gave a small, respectful bow—not as a subordinate, but as an equal.
"I am Varvatos. Monarch of my own fallen world. I came not to threaten… but to understand. Though I must confess…" He raised his head slightly, his silver eyes glinting. "I do wish to meet those who claim dominion here. To see if your strength lives up to your titles."
Velzard's smile was faint and icy. "And if it does not?"
"Then I'll show you what true supremacy feels like," Varvatos replied without hesitation, not out of pride—but simple, unwavering fact.
A heavy silence followed.
Misery clenched her fists. Rain's expression tightened as she glanced toward Guy, awaiting the signal.
But Guy simply laughed, low and entertained.
"You've got guts. I like that. You're not groveling, you're not boasting. You're just… you." He leaned back again. "So tell me, 'Monarch of a Fallen World'—what do you seek in ours?"
"Purpose," Varvatos answered. "And if necessary… redefinition."
He stepped forward, the snow beneath his feet evaporating from sheer magical resonance.
"Your systems—your Skills, your evolution, even the Voice of the World. They're fascinating. But I've seen higher laws. I've lived and transcended them. And I intend to see whether this world bends to will… or breaks."
Velzard's eyes narrowed, interested now more than wary.
"You speak of bending the laws as if it were nothing."
"It is nothing," Varvatos replied coldly. "For those who know how to rewrite existence."
Guy stood slowly, his aura starting to burn like crimson flame over black snow.
"Well then… Varvatos. Why don't we test each other? No politics. No games. Just raw, unfiltered power."
Varvatos grinned—not arrogantly, but with the thrill of a warrior who'd finally found worthy prey.
"I thought you'd never ask."
The Ice Continent braced itself, the wind crying out in anticipation.
Two supreme beings were about to clash—not for conquest, not for vengeance, but for something greater:
Dominance over reality itself.
Varvatos stood tall, his silver cloak billowing like divine silk in the cold wind of the Ice Continent. After his measured introduction and challenge, he let his eyes wander across the majestic spires of Guy Crimson's citadel.
"This castle," he murmured, voice almost wistful, "is far too beautiful to be reduced to rubble."
Before any of them could react, he casually snapped his fingers.
A pulse of magic erupted like a heartbeat, and in the blink of an eye, the snowy expanse, the castle, and the sky above all vanished. They now stood on a battlefield suspended in twilight, where stars shimmered on a sea of silver mist. The very concept of time and space bent and flexed within the dome of Varvatos' barrier—a pocket dimension tailored for destruction without consequence.
Guy looked around with mild interest. "Convenient."
"Here," Varvatos said, turning to him, "we can fight to our heart's content. No limits. No casualties. Just truth."
Guy grinned and cracked his knuckles. "I like you more by the second."
Without warning, Guy vanished—no teleportation spell, just pure speed. Varvatos lifted a hand just as Guy's blade came down, black steel engulfed in infernal flame. Their swords met with a clash that sent out a shockwave strong enough to crater the silver ground beneath them.
Guy's Demon Lord Haki exploded outward, distorting the barrier walls, but Varvatos countered with a whisper. His magic formed an invisible shell around him that neutralized the oppressive aura, then retaliated with a thrust that channeled ancient force through his blade.
Guy ducked and snapped his fingers. A Napalm Burst exploded behind Varvatos, bathing him in white-hot magical fire. The inferno howled like a banshee.
But Varvatos stepped forward, completely unburnt, eyes glowing with violet sigils. "Fire obeys my command too."
He reached into the flames and dispersed them like mist, his own Primordial Dominion resisting elemental magic.
Then came the swordfight.
Blades flashed. Sparks flew. Each swing carried the weight of titanic force and millennia of mastery. Guy was relentless, chaining slashes and teleportation, his sword creating shockwaves and fissures in space.
Varvatos responded with surgical grace—parries so precise they seemed choreographed by fate itself. When he countered, reality bent, his blade laced with runes that twisted gravity and light.
Velzard watched silently, arms crossed, her expression unreadable. But inside, she was intrigued.
"He's pushing Guy back... and not even flinching. Those spells… they're not like anything I've seen. No chant, no delay, and they affect rules themselves... is that world-magic? Or something older?"
She narrowed her eyes at Varvatos.
"He's not just strong. He's dangerous."
Rain and Misery, both standing a respectful distance away inside the pocket world, stared wide-eyed.
"Master... he's going all out," Rain whispered.
"No," Misery corrected softly. "He's enjoying it. It's rare. This Varvatos is... making him feel alive."
Guy decided to up the stakes. His aura ignited fully as he invoked Ultimate Skill: Lucifer, Lord of Pride. The temperature plummeted and rose simultaneously, space fracturing under the sheer pressure of his existence.
Varvatos watched him calmly, then raised one hand. The air around him shimmered.
Guy cast Death Streak, his signature Nuclear Magic spell. A beam of pure annihilation erupted forward, meant to erase anything caught within.
Varvatos blinked, and suddenly, he was standing beside Guy, untouched.
"What--?" Guy's eyes narrowed.
"Dimensional Reversal," Varvatos replied. "A form of rejection magic. Your beam never reached me, because it never should have."
Guy snarled and invoked Time Stop. The entire realm froze. Rain, Misery—all caught mid-motion. Only Guy and Velzard remained in motion, smirking.
"You're good. But can you fight against time itself?"
He charged.
But when his blade neared Varvatos, the Monarch moved.
Moved inside frozen time.
Guy froze mid-strike. "You...!"
Varvatos' eyes glowed with cosmic light. "Did you think you were the only one with authority over time, Lord of Pride?"
He raised his hand and unleashed a Transcendent Spell not recognized by the Voice of the World. A torrent of multi-dimensional glyphs swirled around his fingers.
"Chronos Invictus."
The spell shattered Guy's time stop like breaking glass, hurling him backward with gravitational force inverted threefold.
Guy landed on his feet, panting. For the first time in centuries, he bled.
He smiled.
"Now this is a fight."