“I knew nothing of it back then. But the end of an era was vastly approaching. Was it then that my downfall first came into action? Was there really anything I could have done differently? A cog inside of a cold, unforgiving machine. That’s all I am, all I ever will be…”

  The wind surged with fierce grace, threading through the heavens and scattering clouds into a wild, chaotic dance. The Azure King stood tall amidst the shattered remnants of a city once renowned as New York. An imposing silhouette draped in scales that pulsed and shimmered hypnotically, their hues shifting and blending in fluid harmony like visions from an ephemeral dream. From his crown rose seven ebony horns, starkly etched against the storm-lit sky, their darkness profound and unyielding. At his feet lay a figure sprawled upon the scarred earth, pride still burning faintly amidst defeat's cold embrace.

  The city around them was fractured, splintered into spectral ruins—buildings torn open to expose skeletal beams of steel and stone reaching upward like desperate hands beseeching mercy from an indifferent sky. Deep ravines stretched wide across the terrain, dark and haunting, bearing silent testimony to the grandeur civilization once held.

  Demons and angels hovered anxiously on the fringes of devastation. Some hung suspended in disbelief, wings poised mid-beat, while others lurked cautiously among twisted wreckage, their presence charged with uncertainty and dread.

  The king's gaze lifted slowly, its invisible touch rippling outward, brushing over the gathered armies. Each being it touched felt an ancient, primal fear, inexplicable yet absolute—fear older than reason, deeper than memory. In the distance, lightning seared the sky, briefly illuminating the world in harsh relief.

  “You're at your wits end,” the figure spoke. “Not even you can beat that many of them at once,” the voice strained, prideful yet laced with exhaustion.

  The Azure King raised his hand, and in his palm blossomed a sphere, small yet pulsing with an ethereal glow. The colors within shifted, weaving through the spectrum like a luminous pearl spinning in cosmic currents. He regarded it with deep intensity.

  “Don’t you see,” the figure laughed weakly, desperation tinting his voice, “There’s nothing you can do!”

  Magic surged from every direction—countless spells, blazing with fierce purpose, raced toward the king. Yet, just before impact, they dissipated quietly, harmlessly, falling away like whispers carried off by the wind.

  “Keep quiet,” the Azure King ordered gently, almost regretfully. “I’m trying to focus.”

  “Why should I?” the figure hissed bitterly. “I gain nothing by letting my enemy focus.”

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  “For all the evils you spread, I doubt you’d care,” the king sighed, a melancholy note in his voice. “But if I don’t focus, I might accidentally destroy the world.”

  “‘Destroy the world,’” the figure sneered, incredulous. “You arrogant human. Why would you even think you’d be capable of something like that?”

  High above, storm clouds churned and writhed, compelled by the king's rhythmic breath and pulsing aura. Fragments of debris floated silently, suspended by an unseen hand, while torn buildings bowed and trembled beneath the weight of imminent ruin.

  A sudden force surged forth, invisible yet tangible, a wave of sheer power cascading outward from the Azure King. Angels and demons alike recoiled instinctively, cringing beneath its overwhelming presence. Silence spread like frost, swift and absolute—every human within reach simply ceased, erased without pain or comprehension. Only the strongest demons and angels remained, shuddering beneath the realization of their fragility.

  “It can’t be!” the figure gasped weakly, eyes wide with disbelief. “It’s impossible—what trickery did you use to obtain such power?”

  “Trickery?” the king laughed softly, though there was no humor in it. “At this moment, I am the being closest to god. Neither heaven nor hell holds any creature willing to challenge me. Only you, foolish elf, dared cross lines that should never be breached. Now you will become an eternal example of what such arrogance brings.”

  The clouds above swirled, blending reality and nightmare into one seamless canvas of ruin and splendor. Fragments of civilization quivered beneath the pressure, awaiting their final judgment.

  Upon the king’s outstretched hand, luminous cracks appeared, spiderwebbing with brilliant white radiance. The sphere in his palm swirled faster, denser, expanding like a newborn star, breathtaking and terrible.

  Demons shrieked in terror, scrambling behind scattered remains, while angels fluttered frantically, desperate to evade the encroaching cataclysm. The air thickened into something stifling and oppressive, each breath shallow and insufficient.

  “Stop, you’ll die too if you release an attack like that!” the figure cried urgently.

  “Yeah?” The Azure King smiled, a quiet resignation etched across his face. “Well, what do you think is the point of it then?”

  Silence bloomed like a frozen flower. Time faltered in its ceaseless march, trapping all in a moment of profound stillness. The figure tried to speak again, but his words had abandoned him, stolen by the king’s unyielding gaze—a gaze now forever burned into memory.

  The orb expanded swiftly, brilliantly, swallowing all in white, blinding radiance. Allies and enemies alike vanished into oblivion, leaving only echoes behind.

  A deafening roar consumed the world as the sphere bloomed outward, annihilating all in its path. Buildings evaporated instantly, blocks of civilization extinguished like candles snuffed by an unseen breath. Deepened ravines gleamed briefly, illuminating the darkness that followed. The armies scattered—demons and angels ripped apart, caught in the maw of unstoppable power.

  Within the searing blaze, the defeated figure’s defiance flickered and faded, lost to an overwhelming truth. Storm clouds above flashed once more, briefly illuminating the end before the world trembled with finality. Miles fractured beneath the strain, swallowing cities, roads, and memories alike, leaving behind a crater—a 150-mile wound etched permanently into the Earth, a scar born from the fury and sorrow of the Azure King.

  On a side note, I saw that the writathon was happening and decided to give it a shot, since I had this story blossoming in the back of my mind.

  I will publish this story pretty much as I write it. No black log, no other strategy nonsense, only pure writer delight! Also, Demon's reign will keep coming out like it has been for a while. I have a years worth of chapters ready, so don't worry.

  Also, also to any new people here: Hello! I'm mora! What's your name?