The throne room was drowned in silence. Not the silence of peace, but the kind that made air itself feel heavier, choking the lungs of any who dared to breathe within it. The walls were veiled in shadows so deep they swallowed the faint glimmer of torchlight that struggled to survive along the black stone columns.
A lone minion entered, its footsteps hollow, echoing in a chamber that seemed endless. Its body trembled despite its efforts to remain calm. Bowing low, it spoke, its voice cracking like dry wood:
"Almighty Conquerer of Darkness… I—I came to inform you… the Artist has failed his duty. He could not swallow Rome as he did the Japanese Empire. Because of that… the Empire of Japan is now free from their eternal despair."
The words died in the air, smothered by the suffocating dark. The minion's throat tightened, heart thundering against its ribs as though it feared it might shatter.
From the abyss, a sound stirred — the faint scrape of metal upon stone. Then, out of the blackness, a shape emerged. A towering suit of black armour, each plate laced with the remains of dragon bone, silver and pale against the abyssal steel. Upon its shoulders flowed a long silver cape, the fabric shimmering faintly as though woven from the tears of fallen stars.
Its visor was a hollow slit, but within it dwelled no eyes, no face — only a depthless shadow. The gauntlets it bore were tipped with clawed fingers, each talon capable of rending flesh from bone with a single swipe. Every step it took rattled the silence, each echo threatening to crush the trembling minion to dust.
The suit of armour stopped just before the lowly servant. Then, in a voice that was not spoken but breathed like a whisper through the marrow, the conqueror spoke:
"I want… you to gather the Devourers of Light."
The air trembled, and even the minion's shadow quivered upon the stone floor.
"And come to the round table…" The hollowed helm lowered, as if its abyssal gaze could pierce through the minion's very soul. "Do with haste."
The minion collapsed to one knee, bowing until its head nearly touched the cold stone. "Y-yes, my lord. At once!"
It scurried backward, nearly stumbling over itself as it fled from the throne room, leaving the conqueror of darkness alone once more in the eternal night. The black armour turned slowly, cape dragging like a river of molten silver, and returned to the shadows of the throne — where time did not move, and where despair patiently waited to devour the world.
The round table lay in a hall that should not exist — neither of stone nor wood, but carved from void itself. Its surface rippled like black water, reflecting not the faces of those who sat around it but the fractured illusions of their sins, their crimes, their hunger. Around this table, the air was too still, as though reality itself dared not intrude.
One by one, the Devourers of Light appeared.
First came Kaedros, the Rift Walker. His arrival was not heralded by footsteps, but by the tearing sound of reality splitting open like cloth. A jagged scar of light ripped through the chamber, and from it stepped a figure wrapped in a cloak of broken dimensions, his body constantly shifting — one arm too long, one leg too thin, as though he existed in a thousand realities at once. His hollow mask twitched, a single crimson eye darting across infinite planes. He sat, and the tear closed, leaving the scent of ozone and fractured worlds behind.
Next, the walls bled. Thick rivers of black ichor seeped through cracks in the void, and from them arose Morvain, Harbinger of Dark Tides. His body was swollen and pulsating like a drowned corpse, his veins coursing with ink. Tentacles writhed where his arms should be, dripping with despair. When he lowered himself into his seat, the entire table shivered, as though the weight of the ocean itself had just settled upon it.
Then, without sound, the flames of the torches bent inward. From their coils of light, a shape formed — cloaked in ragged robes embroidered with every element known to mortals. Fire curled at his fingertips, frost clung to his breath, lightning danced in his eyes. Altheron, Master of Elements, pressed a clawed hand to the table, and in an instant the surface turned from molten rock, to ice, to storming clouds, then back to void. He smirked as if the elements themselves were nothing more than toys in his grasp.
The next arrival was a ripple in perception. At first there was nothing — then a bell chime rang, but from nowhere. The sound bent time itself. Shadows stretched too far, light slowed to a crawl, and all present bowed their heads instinctively as Seraphyne, the Maid of Time and Space, appeared. She wore no armor, no mask — only a pristine maid's dress that shimmered with constellations. Her hands, pale and delicate, held a pocket watch that bled sand instead of ticking. She curtsied to no one, then sat, folding time around her like a cloak.
The hall shook with laughter before the next ever entered. The sound was silk and venom both, a siren's call turned sinister. The ground beneath the table cracked and from the abyss below rose a throne of flesh and chains. Seated upon it already was Vaelith, the Queen of Sins. Her beauty was unbearable — her body draped in crimson silks, her eyes glimmering with every vice imaginable. Wherever she gazed, desire twisted into obsession. She smirked, resting her chin on her hand, licking her lips as though the others present were nothing more than prey.
Finally, silence heavier than all the rest descended. The torches died. The whispers of despair stilled. From the void itself walked Isolde, the Greatest Swordswoman. She bore no ornaments, no monstrous form — only simplicity. Black armor fit close to her frame, a single blade strapped to her back. Yet her presence was enough to make even Kaedros pause, his many eyes fixating on her. She sat without a word, her posture sharp as steel, her very existence sharper still. It was said she had cleaved angels and demons alike with a single stroke. None at the table doubted it.
The six sat, waiting.
Then the air grew colder.
From the shadows at the far end of the table, he came — the Hollowed King, the Conqueror of Darkness, clad in black dragon-bone armor, silver cape trailing like moonlight. His visor was nothing but void, yet every Devourer felt his gaze upon them, piercing, suffocating. He moved with no sound, yet every step resounded like the toll of a funeral bell.
He stood at the head of the table, claws resting lightly on its edge.
"My Devourers…" His voice was a whisper in the marrow, scraping against the soul. "The Artist has failed me. Rome stands. The Japanese Empire is free. Our dominion cracks."
The table darkened, the void itself bending closer to listen.
"It is time," the Hollowed King continued, "that we, the Hollowed Order, bring despair not as a tide, nor as art, but as truth absolute. The sun has shone too long."
Kaedros's many eyes blinked across dimensions, and he leaned forward.
"Then we rewrite reality itself, my king. Tear the world until it no longer remembers hope."
Morvain's tentacles slapped wetly against the void table, black ichor spilling down its edges.
"Let me drown their cities. Let me choke their lungs in ink until every last breath tastes of despair."
Altheron's smile widened, flames and frost warring across his face.
"Or let me scorch them, freeze them, break them beneath storms so endless they pray for death."
Seraphyne twirled her pocket watch, voice calm as a songbird.
"Time itself is pliable. I could undo their victories, rewind their triumphs, stretch their agonies across eternities. A slow death… sweeter than a quick one."
Vaelith laughed, licking her lips as she leaned forward, crimson silks falling to reveal too much, yet not enough.
"No… let them live. Let me corrupt them, one by one. I will make saints into murderers, kings into slaves, lovers into betrayers. They will beg us to kill them long before we do."
Isolde said nothing. She simply raised her head, eyes as sharp as her blade, and spoke in a whisper:
"Point me to their strongest. I will cut them down. The rest will follow."
The Hollowed King listened, silent, his presence pressing heavier upon them with every heartbeat. Then he raised a clawed gauntlet, and the table itself trembled.
"Patience, my Devourers. Their hope grows fat after Rome. We will carve it out of them… piece by piece."
His visor glowed faintly, two hollow lights sparking like dying stars.
"And when the world kneels, the light itself will be devoured."
The Hollowed King's claws tapped against the void table, the sound like iron scraping against bone. His visor tilted toward each Devourer in turn, his presence suffocating yet commanding.
"No," he said, voice echoing like a grave dug too deep. "Do not descend upon them all at once. If we move together, they will unite. Their light, pitiful as it is, still burns brightest when cornered."
The chamber seemed to lean closer to his words.
"We will not give them that luxury. We will hollow them out region by region, kingdom by kingdom, until their faith collapses under its own weight. Divide their world… and let despair be the only unifying truth."
Kaedros bowed his fractured head, eyes blinking across endless dimensions.
"A clever dismemberment. One strike at a time, until the body of hope lies in pieces."
Morvain hissed with glee, ink dripping from his maw.
"Yes… let them choke one nation at a time. Let their neighbors watch, helpless, knowing they are next."
Vaelith leaned back in her throne of chains, her smile too perfect, too cruel.
"Mmm… to taste the collapse of entire empires, one after another. Delicious."
The others remained silent, but the hunger in their presence was unmistakable.
The Hollowed King turned away, his cape of silver dragging across the void floor like a fading star.
"Prepare yourselves. The time for shadows has come. Soon… the light itself will beg for extinction."
The torches guttered out. One by one, the Devourers vanished back into the nothingness they called home, until only the Hollowed King remained. He raised his head, visor reflecting no light, no soul, only infinite emptiness.
His voice came once more, final, absolute:
"Do not fail me."
Then the hall itself collapsed into darkness.
To be continued…