Dragon King: Throne of Demons and Gods-Chapter 186: Act III, Scene VIII: The Man Who Moved the World

The stage cracked.

Stone exploded beneath Aurus's boots. The ground split in jagged lines, a thunderclap tearing through the theater. Seats twisted, broke, and fell away into the void below.

Dust burst into the air, swallowing the broken stage. A single shaft of pale light cut through the chaos, shining from the fractured ceiling like a spotlight.

High above, the Slumbering King watched in silence, dangling in the dark. His fingers moved faintly, twitching as if tugging invisible strings.

One white eye glowed onto the chaos below.

That power… Just from drawing half a sword?

Aurus didn't move. One hand on the hilt, the blade gleaming, only halfway out. He stared straight up.

"You chose well," Aurus said, voice calm. "A theater's a good place. Fits the scene."

He straightened his back.

"Your first scene... is your death."

Then the pressure dropped.

Aurus's power burst out like a windstorm mixed with gravity. The stage jumped and cracked, deep lines ripping across the floor. Everything around him grew heavy, too heavy.

Gravity didn't just pull down; it slammed in every direction like an attack by itself. Dust blew out in thick waves. Loose stone lifted, spun, then broke in the air like shattered glass. Walls bent inward.

Closest rows of puppets turned to ash on the spot. The wave continued to spread, crushing everything in its path without slowing down.

The Slumbering King leaned forward. His eye didn't blink. He watched the chaos below like a man watching a show that finally got interesting.

"Now this... this finally feels like a hero."

He didn't look alarmed at all, more like interested. Like a critic watching an act worth his time. Then, slow and smooth, he lifted his arms.

His thin fingers moved like he was pulling strings. The air changed. A new wave of energy pushed outward, this time colder. It sliced through the smoke, reaching the far ends of the ruined hall.

Aurus raised a brow. Just one.

The King spoke again, his voice reaching every corner of the theater.

"You might be the strongest here. But against me, power means nothing."

Inside the smoke, light sparked. It didn't flash bright. It pulsed steadily, and inside the smoke, the puppets began to rise.

"You've earned a proper challenge. So, hero, prove to me you're truly the strongest," the King said.

White light ran over the puppets' faces. Their eyes turned pure white, glowing from within. Then the light melted, like wax running off skin.

And underneath?

Flesh materialized.

Warriors. Real ones, but not just anyone.

The faces, the scars, the legendary weapons, or the auras. They were Sacreds from another age. Forgotten soldiers, long dead.

Row after row. Lines of ghosts made solid, about hundreds of them, and among them...

His team.

Darwin, Lloyd, all of them, blank-eyed. Silent, similar, yet way different than the ones he waved farewell minutes ago.

Aurus was surrounded by the closest thing to a miracle for humanity, sadly under the banner of a Demon Lord.

Yet...

Aurus seemed barely bothered.

He moved one foot forward. The sword stayed half-drawn.

"You made them look like the real thing," Aurus said. "I don't know the others, but my comrades are accurate. You copied them right. Their power, too." He stared up, unbothered. "But in the end, it's still you pulling the strings. Relying on humans to fight your battle? That's weakness. You don't want to face me yourself. You're hiding behind them because you know you're not enough."

The Slumbering King gave no reply.

There was stillness. A moment where nothing moved.

Then, chaos.

Dozens, no, hundreds, of Sacred warriors leapt at once. From all angles. A lightning spear cracked the air. A twin-blade dancer flashed toward his head. A mage raised a hand, a magic blast swirling around him. A beast-kin came crashing down from above, claws sharp and glowing....

Hundreds of attacks fell at once, but Aurus didn't move.

Then came the blast.

A wave of pressure burst out from him, slamming outward like a bomb. The air turned heavy. The stage shook.

Puppets were thrown back mid-air, bodies crashing into the ruins, some vanishing into smoke the instant they touched his aura.

He didn't flinch.

He didn't raise a hand.

He walked.

Each step pushed the wave farther. His aura wasn't just pressure, but a true weapon.

It moved like liquid force, flowing with his body. Every motion bent the air, crushed stone, tore spells apart.

Attacks dissolved before reaching him, broken down by his sheer presence.

He kept walking. Eyes locked on the King, then, he raised his sword and held it sideways, halfway out of the sheath.

From that single motion, a blast of pressure erupted.

A wave tore out from his position like a cannon of gravity. The right side of the stage shattered, rows of puppets instantly torn apart.

Hundreds were gone in one instant, bodies snapped and tossed like paper in a storm.

Stone split. Dust shot into the air. And Aurus didn't even glance at the destruction.

His blade trembled faintly.

He kept walking.

He still didn't strike.

His aura did the killing. He moved it like an extension of his limbs, shifting its weight and direction to crash into targets.

Hundreds more puppets joined in. Famous faces from all around the kingdom. People he could have heard about, now empty puppets in glowing white eyes.

The Slumbering King dropped one hand, and Aurus pulled the blade one-third free.

The world cracked. Rows of seats shattered, the upper walls broke open.

Puppets burst like glass in a fire.

He sighed and dug a pinky into his ear, cleaning it casually.

"All this noise, all these shadows. If you're the King, get down here and die with the rest of the insects."

For a moment, the world stopped.

The puppets froze mid-charge. The smoke hung still. Even the wind held its breath.

Then the ground shook.

A tremor rolled through the ruins. Then another. Stronger. A low hum filled the air, turning into a deep rumble.

The Slumbering King's eye was wide open.

A voice came, soft at first. But it echoed across the world.

"Human... Are you really getting arrogant with me?"

The puppets started to twitch, glitching like broken machines. Their limbs moved wrong, jerking out of sync.

"Everyone here lives because I allow it," the King said. His voice filled the air like a slow flood. "You're alive because I find it intriguing. Do not make the mistake of thinking we are all like the Gilded Maw."

Cracks spread across the walls.

"I... am... the Slumbering King. Demon Lord of Sloth. Favorite candidate for to the throne."

The world trembled.

"You think I'm lazy? Then let me show you why I never go all out."

The ceiling split wide. Light poured through, but it was cold, like moonlight through ice.

The monster was finally unleashed.