Dragon King: Throne of Demons and Gods-Chapter 203: Act V, Scene I: Endless Dream

They used to say that if the Slumbering King wished for someone to die, it was already done.

There were no signs, no warnings, not even the sound of a blade. The world simply forgot that person ever existed.

Many who knew the Demon Lords agreed he was not the strongest in raw powerful or destruction.

But he was the most terrifying.

His Authority was not something like a powerful fire, or destructive death, or annihilation. It was made of silence, pure void, and nothingness.

The Slumbering King did not live in the same world as others. His true body rested in a place where time and space no longer had meaning, a layer above reality where even gods could not see. 𝑓𝑟ℯ𝘦𝓌𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝑐ℴ𝓂

What walked among demons and mortals was only his vessel, an obsidian giant carrying a fraction of his power. But even that was enough to destroy armies.

When the King fought, his attacks were not real attacks. They were... "void". They erased whatever they touched. It was like a void used as a sword, moving like one and leaving a path of emptiness.

On a body of flesh, it would be the same as a painless cut, too sudden to be noticed, until the laws of physics kicked in and the pain from the exposed injury ignited.

They said his attacks were impossible to watch and could only be guessed. The air would twist, torn like a real tangible object.

And depending on how big the attack was, it could erase a whole body, leaving no trace, no blood, only the memory of what once was.

It was like the world was a drawing, and the King held an eraser instead of a sword.

Some of the records spoke of battles against him. Warriors, some not Sacred, with weapons forged from divine light, powers strengthened by Divine blessings, an arsenal of perfection, yet all fell the same way.

His power ignored rules, ignored reality. You could not block what didn’t exist in your world, no matter your defense. You could not dodge what existed outside time.

When the King swung, it had already happened.

And this was what made him the perfect predator among Demon Lords. While others relied on strength or cunning, he had only to exist to win.

He did not even need to move fast. A single thought from him could slice through dimensions, reaching targets that no matter where they stood.

If he had chosen to remain in his eternal layer, far away from the limits of the world, nothing could have reached him. He could have slain civilizations, Sacreds, even Demon Lords, without ever showing himself.

But perfection is a cruel thing. It tempts arrogance. And arrogance is a monster’s nemesis.

The Slumbering King grew overconfident in his eternal realm.

He was superior, and he knew it.

He wants a body in the real world so he can get the satisfaction of defeating his enemy without going all out. So he created a vessel, that black giant.

This vessel could walk among the world, speak, and rule. But don’t get fooled, it’s not him. It carries his strength, but not his invulnerability.

What’s the importance, you ask? Well... Let’s just say that... this body is the only direct link between his true self and you. If you use it correctly, and I believe that Lord Ravager is capable of that, then you’ll have a way to reach the true body and do what you have to do.

But of course, it’s up to you how you’ll proceed. I suggest you drag the battle as long as possible, let him rage, make him use his power again and again. But don’t overwhelm him. Let him believe he could do it if he tried a little harder.

A predator is at its most vulnerable when it can’t realize it’s the one being hunted by a bigger predator.

Now, about the way his power works?

Consider the structure he hides behind.

His true location is absolute isolation: the throne where his true body resides, untouched by time and space. Nothing can reach him there.

His second layer acts as a bridge, a sort of dimension allowing him to project his attacks into the real world. Every void slash is formed there before slipping directly into the physical world without traveling through it.

And the first layer is the physical realm itself, our world.

This concept of structures makes him invincible.

At least, that is what he believes.

His entire identity rests on the idea that no one could breach these walls.

But you... Ravager... you might be the key to reach it.

Your Authority seems different than ours. I don’t feel anything near you, and the clown couldn’t copy you. It means that your power can paralyze others’ Authorities.

If his dimensions are the manifestation of his Authority, then maybe you’re the only thing that could bypass it.

And that, more than anything, is why he fears you.

The Slumbering King gasped as he came back into what passed for existence in the Third Layer. His real form, weak and white in too many senses, fell onto the invisible floor.

His chest went up and down, even though he didn’t have air to breathe or lungs. Just a panic thing, a habit from his puppet.

White everywhere. No shadows, no edges, no end. Just nothing. The place he was supposed to be a god.

He lay there for what felt like forever, body shaking, submerged by the images of a terrible day: the tear, Bel’s eyes, a claw, scales moving.

The purple thing had touched him, and it burned like acid. He’d felt real destruction, not his clean wipe, but something else, something that made him believe he was done for.

How... how did he reach me? He whispered. The Second Layer... it can’t be... No one does that. How?

He was scared. He curled up. He’d run.

The great Slumbering King, one of the eight Demon Lords, had run like a kid. The claw had been so close. If it had grabbed him... He shook it off, but the fear stayed.

He slowly stood up, checking his body. No damage, thankfully.

He reached out with his power, erasing a bit of nothing; he even felt it touch him, but somehow he managed to reach this place before being erased.

He was safe.

I’m... here. Really here. He laughed. I made it. That thing didn’t follow. It couldn’t reach to this!

He relaxed, but the terror remained, but here, he was almighty.. He paced the white, hands shaking.

What was that? How did he tear the dimension? Is this his power or something?

He stopped.

And The Ravager... that thing. His Authority... it’s not like the others. Just... oh... yes... It’s... it’s just like this damn Echidna. It eats everything. Even my voids. He tightened his form. Why him? Why now? I’ve killed many heroes. But this... this Ravager... he shouldn’t exist! I shouldn’t be the one dealing with this thing!

The King floated, mind racing. He saw the battle back: the puppet’s fights, the slashes that Bel healed easily. How the hell was he that tough? It was like nothing could kill him.

I was a fool. I wanted to see his fear, to show that I was superior... but that puppet... No, it’s not like that. I am stronger. I could have made it easier. I was just... misled, and gave him a chance.

He admitted it.

I should have stayed here. No puppet. No games. Just wipe the town and be done with it!

But then, he panicked again. What if Bel followed him? The Third Layer was away, but after seeing him breach through the Second... No, no more risks.

The white around him felt like a wall now, a good wall protecting him. He was the King here. The real King. No more playing in the lower layers. No more letting that monster get close.

"I won’t make that mistake again," he said to the nothing. His voice regaining its strength now. "I let him think he could fight back. But that’s over."

He denied it deep inside, the idea that Bel was at least stronger than expected. No. It wasn’t that. He was the King here. Bel was just... lucky. Tricky. His power was weird, sure, but the King was the one who had messed up by coming down, by showing his face; he had made it easy for Bel. Like handing a sword to an enemy. Stupid.

"I’m superior," he growled. "He’s nothing. A bug that won’t squish. But bugs die if you step hard enough. Over and over."

The thought built inside him. Slow at first, then faster. He could attack from here. Safe. Untouched. The Third Layer let him send voids straight down, no need for the vessel anymore. He could hit the real world without leaving his throne.

"Yes," he whispered. "That’s it. No escape for him now. I’ll attack. And attack. And attack. Forever if I have to."

Regeneration? Ah, it will be fun to see him try. Each slash would take a piece of his body. Each piece would be slashed again and again; no matter how many times he healed, the King wouldn’t stop.

He’d turn that purple blood into a river, then a lake, then nothing. Bel would break. Everyone breaks eventually.

"No chances," he said, louder. "No talking. No seeing his face. Just end him."

He focused his power, felt it gather. The white around him seemed to pulse with it. He was back in control.

Finally.

"I’ll grind him to paste," he snarled.

His eyes glowed white, like stars about to explode. His power surged. He aimed down, through the layers, straight at where Bel should be.

"Die!" he roared.

The first attack launched, a massive wave, bigger than any before. It should rip through the real world, erase everything in its path. Town, dragons, people, gone. Then Bel, over and over.

He waited for the first impact, then...

Nothing.

No slash, no release, no sense of the void hitting anything.

"What...?"

The word echoed in the white. He blinked his glowing eyes, staring at the endless blank. His power had surged; he felt it leave him, head toward Bel. But then... it just kept going. Like throwing a stone into a bottomless well. No splash, no end, just falling forever.

He shook his head.

"Must be... a delay. The layers are far."

He tried again. Focused harder. Poured more into it.

"Die!"

The power built inside him, he shaped it bigger this time, twists and slashes mixed in. Distortions that would bend space itself. He aimed it down, through the nothing, straight to the real world.

It left him. He felt the rush. But again... nothing came back. No echo, no sense of connection. The attack was out there, moving, but it never landed. Like a shout into empty space that never bounced off a wall.

What was happening? He started to lose his calm, trying again and again, still without result.

"Why? It should work!"

He hurled another, distortions, slashes, all aimed down. A storm of voids, enough to wipe a city. He screamed with rage.

But the white stayed quiet. His attacks felt sent, but they hung in some in-between place, stretching on without end.

"No... this can’t be..."

He floated back, his body twisting. Confusion grew. This wasn’t right. His power had always been instant, there was no law of time in the third layer, so any attack would in fact land instantly.

So why did it take so long? Now... it was like his will was reaching out, extending, but the "out" never came. An arm stretched forever without touching anything.

"What’s wrong?" he muttered. "The link... maybe it’s weak."

He tried to see the outside world. Not attack this time, just look. From here, he could always glimpse the First Layer, a window in his mind, showing the chaos below.

He focused, willing the vision to come. The white around him shimmered a bit, like it was trying to part.

But the shimmer went on and on. No image formed. The "window" opened, but it led to more nothing, endless grey haze that never cleared. He pushed harder, pouring essence into it.

"Show me! Show me the Ravager! Show me the town!"

The haze stretched, but no picture. No screams. No purple glow. Just reaching... without arriving.

His frustration bubbled up.

"Why can’t I see? This is my domain! I control it!"

His form flickered, mist swirling angrily around him. He tried again, view, then attack. Same thing. Sent, but no end. Like his power was lost in a fog that swallowed everything.

"Think," he told himself. "What changed?" He replayed it: the run from the Second Layer, the panic cut of the tether. "The bridge... the Second Layer. That’s it. I forgot... I need it to bridge the gap. From here, my contact with the outside world comes through it... Without the bridge, they are just... floating.."

Yes. That made sense. The second layer no longer existed for some reason, so now... no way to send or see.

"Stupid! But fixable."

He gathered his power again. This time, to recreate. He willed the second layer back, a grey dream-space, the conduit.

The white shifted. A hint of purple appeared, like smoke in the blank. It grew, spreading slowly. But then... it stopped. Hung there, half-formed.

Stretching, but not completing. Like building a wall that kept going up but never reached the top.

"Come on! Not again!" he snarled.

He pushed more. The purple thickened, but the "form" never solidified. It reached... and reached... without end.

Confusion turned to anger.

"Why? It’s mine! Obey!"

He tried harder. Shaped it with details, the world, the haze, the feel of projection. It started again: purple blooming. But again, it extended without finishing. An ongoing build that never built.

His frustration exploded.

"Damn it! Work!" His fists slammed the invisible floor. Ripples in the white, but no change.

"This cursed place... this stupid power..." Then louder. "Why won’t you form? I made you! I am you!"

He kept trying, over and over. Each time, the purple hinted, stretched, but faded back unfinished. His actions felt real; he knew he was sending the command.

The power left him. But it initiated nothing. No spark. No completion. Just... limbo.

"What’s happening?" he roared. "I feel it going! Why doesn’t it connect?"

He thrashed, mist whipping like a storm.

"Ravager! This is your fault! You and your ruin! You broke something!"

He tried to attack again, then view, then rebuild. Cycle after cycle. Each fail chipped at him.

"No! No! No!" Curses flew, old words from forgotten tongues, names of enemies long erased. "Damn the Ravager! Damn his curse! Damn this white hell!"

His form twisted wildly, eyes flaring erratically.

"I’ll try forever! You hear me? Forever!"

But the tries blurred. Reaching without end, building without form, attacking without a hit.

He laughed, broken, mad.

"It’s a joke! A trick! But I’ll break it!"

His screams echoed in his mind, louder, endless. Frustration to fury to despairing rage. He clawed at the white, tore at his own mist.

"Let me out! Let me kill you!"

But nothing answered. The white watched, blank and cold.