CHAPTER 183 – HALL OF ETERNITY
LYSANDER FARADEISS
A full year has passed since humanity was wiped from existence, leaving the world under my dominion. With an army of the undead at my command, I’ve brought the world’s diverse races to their knees. Now, elves, mermaids, onis, vampires, dwarves, werewolves, and dragonoids alike bow before me.
I used my dark power, the Undead Resurrection, to raise the Elder of the Elves from the grave, entrusting her with the leadership of Yggdra, the ancient forest kingdom. The Queen of Mermaids now rules over the depths of Atlanticus, her cold eyes devoid of life. The Head Priest of the Onis presides over the fierce realm of Onishira, his once fiery spirit now extinguished. The Queen of Vampires governs the shadowy domain of Nocturnia, her beauty turned to a hollow mockery of life. The Admiral-General of the Dwarves commands the industrious stronghold of Kraghelm, his once proud people now toiling under his undead gaze. The Duke of the Werewolves leads his savage clan across the wilds of Alterra, his howl no longer echoing with the vibrancy of life. And finally, the Dragon Queen, once a majestic and terrifying force, now reigns over the dragonoids scattered across the planet, her fiery breath reduced to a mere tool of my will.
But this resurrection is tainted, a dark magic that leaves its victims without mind or soul. These leaders are nothing more than empty vessels, puppets for me to control, their strings tightly wound around my fingers. With my zombie commanders in place, I am the true power behind every throne.
It took a year of relentless subjugation to crush the rebellions that dared to rise against me, the dwarves and vampires being the most frequent instigators. Yet, each insurrection was met with brutal force. My ultimate undead soldiers obliterated any opposition, and when the need arose, I personally stepped onto the battlefield. My Necroblaze Dragon Form, a monstrous beast of death and fire, laid waste to my enemies, turning their resistance to ash.
I have ruled this world with an iron fist, my reign marked by fire and blood. Every race has been brought to heel, unified under my dark banner. I am the villain who turned their tales into nightmares, the one who gave their stories the cruelest of endings. In this world, the bad guy wins. I win.
In less than a year, I constructed the tallest castle the world has ever seen—The Hall of Eternity. It towers above the land, a monument to my power, where I sit upon the highest throne, basked in the reverence of all races. From this lofty perch, I survey the ruins of what once was and the dark empire I have built from the ashes.
Today, the Hall of Eternity stands complete. To mark this momentous occasion, I held a grand ceremony, attended by my undead retainers and the subjects who remain loyal to my rule.
The sound of trumpets echoed through the skies, their blaring notes reverberating off the stone walls. An orchestra filled the air with haunting melodies, singing praises to my unholy glory. I strode down a crimson carpet, the heavy doors of the Hall of Eternity creaking open to reveal the grand interior. Inside, every surviving race on this planet gathered to witness my inauguration.
Clad in a resplendent white royal suit, I advanced forward. My undead Dragon Knights, clad in armor as black as night, raised their swords in a gesture of honor, their hollow eyes fixed on my approach. The audience, a sea of fear-stricken faces, could only watch in silence as I walked in the full splendor of my power, a living symbol of their despair and hopelessness.
The announcer, a figure draped in shadow, stood before the crowd and proclaimed my entrance with a voice that carried like thunder through the hall. “Behold, the God of this New World, who now ascends to the throne of the Hall of Eternity—His Holiness, Lord Lysander Faradeiss! Let all who stand in his presence bow their heads in reverence.”
As I moved forward, all subjects under my rule bent the knee, their heads lowered in submission. The announcer’s voice rang out once more, extolling my deeds and triumphs. “As we all know, Lord Lysander is the architect of the Purge of Humanity, the conqueror of all empires, and the destroyer of the terrorist Gazelle Lockwood’s legacy. He has vanquished the Dragon Lords, securing our world’s unification. Glory to our God, Lysander!”
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
And so, with every step I took, the weight of my power pressed down upon them all, a reminder that in this new world, my reign is absolute.
“Glory, my ass,” one of the oni priests muttered under his breath, his eyes narrowed in defiance. “He’s just a plain genocidal maniac.”
“Quiet!” an elf ranger hissed softly, her voice trembling with fear. “Anyone who disobeys him will be killed!”
“That’s the treacherous Foreign God, right?” I caught the soft voice of a werewolf child as he whispered to his mother, his eyes wide with innocent curiosity.
“Shhh! Keep your mouth shut!” the werewolf mother hissed urgently, pulling her child close. “You’ll get us all killed!”
“I can’t believe we’re all bowing to someone like him,” a vampire duke whispered, his voice laced with bitterness.
As the whispers of dissent rippled through the crowd, I came to an abrupt halt. My gaze fell upon a familiar elven couple, Mr. and Mrs. Misteltein—the parents of Hiraya. They knelt before me, their heads bowed in submission, yet their bodies trembled as they clung to each other in fear.
“Lord Lysander… Is this really what you wanted?” Mrs. Misteltein’s voice quivered as she dared to speak, her words barely audible. “To dominate all living beings… to rule over the world?”
Their words washed over me like a distant echo, meaningless and hollow. I had made up my mind long ago. Ever since I absorbed the memories of the Previous Timeline Hiraya, I inherited all her plans for the Altered Regression Plan. This path was set, and there was no turning back.
I resumed my march, stepping onto the red-carpeted stairs leading to the Throne of Eternity. There were only five steps between me and the seat of absolute power, but with each footfall, time seemed to stretch, the weight of my decisions pressing down on me. The sound of my boots striking the stone echoed through the grand hall, a slow, deliberate rhythm that matched the gravity of the moment. Each step was heavy, but I forced myself forward, unwavering in my resolve.
Finally, I stood before the Throne of Eternity, the pinnacle of my conquest, the place from which I would rule the world. I gazed upon it, the culmination of all my efforts, and knew that this was where I belonged.
Before I could sit upon the throne, I paused and turned to look at my subjects one last time. Their faces, a mix of fear, submission, and silent resentment, stared back at me from across the grand hall.
And then…
Someone appeared.
A ripple of shock swept through the crowd, their attention drawn to the entrance of the hall. Every head turned, eyes widening in disbelief. Their jaws went slack, their voices caught in their throats. It was as if they had seen a ghost.
“Hiraya?" the elves murmured, their voices trembling with uncertainty. "No..."
Standing at the far end of the red carpet, framed by the towering entrance, was a woman with sharp elven ears. Her long, flowing golden hair cascaded down her back, and she was clad in a pristine white suit that resembled the armor of a Valkyrie. At first glance, it was easy to mistake her for Hiraya Misteltein, the Dragon Lord. But as the onlookers took in her appearance, it became clear she was something more—her eyes burned with a deep crimson glow, the unmistakable mark of a dragonoid, and on her forehead, a glowing blue orb pulsed with an eerie light.
Those familiar with the ancient texts and legends instantly recognized her.
“Goddess Exceria!” they gasped, the name whispered like a prayer and a curse.
As if in response to their recognition, the blue orb on her forehead flared to life, projecting a cyberpunk visor that covered her face. But even through the sleek, high-tech mask, her deathly crimson glare pierced through, radiating an aura of unmatched power and determination.
With a single, explosive kick against the ground, she launched herself forward with blinding speed. My undead Dragon Knights, trained to respond to any threat, could do nothing—she moved faster than their undead reflexes could process. In the blink of an eye, she closed the distance, her approach a blur of motion.
Now, she stood mere centimeters away from me. Instinct and battle-honed reflexes surged within me, and in one swift motion, I drew the katana sheathed at my left waist, the blade gleaming with lethal intent.
“You damn goddess!” I roared, the sound echoing through the hall as I prepared to strike.
However, Exceria’s reflexes were far sharper than mine. With fluid precision, she executed a roundhouse kick, knocking my katana from my grasp. The blade clattered to the ground as she spun gracefully, her movements swift and deadly. In the same breath, she drew a sleek pistol from the holster strapped to her leg, the barrel aimed directly at my forehead.
For the briefest of moments, a millisecond’s hesitation flickered in her crimson eyes.
I had anticipated this. In that fleeting instant of doubt, I seized her pistol with both hands, forcing the barrel closer to my head. With a deliberate, unyielding push, I assisted her in pulling the trigger. It all happened in a flash—so fast that even the gathered audience couldn’t fully grasp the gravity of the moment.
The gunshot rang out like thunder, echoing throughout the throne room. Blood sprayed into the air, the crimson droplets painting the pristine marble floor. As my vision blurred and darkness began to close in, I turned my gaze to the throne, my last sight lingering on the intricate rune engravings—the magical circle etched into the stone, designed for the Altered Regression Magic.
[LYSANDER FARADEISS – K.I.A.]
[Altered Regression Magic Activated]