The waters of the great river had changed, showing the eternal reflection of Twilight.
In the tranquil waters that mirrored the sky, an enormous, imposing black ship cut across the water's surface with an unsettling serenity, contrasting with the nightmares hidden beneath its calm facade.
Sitting on the forward mast, Uriel enjoyed the fresh wind caressing his face and clothes.
His Void Cloak had changed into simple, ordinary black clothing with various white patterns on its edges.
His black eyes gazed upon the tranquil, relaxing place that was the farthest edge of Ariel's Tomb, which hid a thousand great monsters adhered to its walls.
Cronos was at the helm; under his guidance and his appearance, which had evolved after reaching the Ascended rank, he could discern more things within the great river, as well as take the best routes to avoid the great abominations.
Slowly but surely, they were approaching Twilight.
Uriel observed the crew of the Time Killer. All of them, whether born of the river or not, wore a Time Collar that he had created.
It had taken him almost three weeks of constant work, but he had succeeded. He had created over eight hundred Time Collars, capable of allowing a river-born to navigate freely without dying from the natural age of their bodies.
As the days passed in silence, the smell of blood became present in the air.
Although they had been attacked by few abominations, these were quickly eliminated by his Supreme Tyrant — whose name he still hadn't decided but was thinking of giving one eventually — who either eliminated them or added them to his domain to gain more essence.
The following days were monotonous until they finally saw something interesting: an enormous corpse of a Leviathan, dead for a long time, whose remains jutted out from the surface.
The shell was covered in massive, gaping holes, as if someone had torn it apart with sharp teeth, ripping off large chunks of flesh in the process.
Enormous monstrous fang marks adorned the shell.
"That must have been the Supreme of the Storm Goddess's world," said Shade within Uriel's mind.
'Yes, I think so too.'
The Time Killer circled the enormous shell and continued sailing downstream.
As they advanced, they observed more nightmare creatures, dead, each one more terrifying than the last. Among the mixture of horrors were all kinds of strange, indescribable things. Each must have been at least a corrupted and large creature, even one or two of the Cursed rank that must have been annihilated by Daeron and his warriors.
Apart from the corpses, there were enormous destroyed ships and floating remains of cities drifting along, demonstrating that even with time, resistance was useless.
Uriel sighed.
Connecting with the Tyrant, he felt that the devastation continued further below, with thousands of sunken ships and debris, of titanic sizes made from an alloy of bones, shells, and Leviathan hides. Remains of dead abominations also floated.
Opening his eyes suddenly, Uriel felt a change in the water.
Looking into the distance, he felt a devastating pressure, much greater than when he fought the Great Tyrant. A will so terrifying and monstrous that it far surpassed his and Shade's combined.
'He felt us,' thought Uriel.
The King of Twilight had sensed their presence and was coming in this direction.
---
Opening his eyes suddenly, Uriel felt a change in the water.
It wasn't a noise. It wasn't a movement. It was something deeper, more primordial. As if the river itself had held its breath.
The pressure changed.
All the scavenger creatures inhabiting the remains — the Carrion Eaters, the Soul Lampreys, the glowing insects — ceased their activity instantly. The Lampreys froze in the water, their translucent bodies trembling. The Carrion Eaters burrowed into the rotting flesh of the larger corpses, seeking refuge. Even the thing in the depths, that shadow that had been watching Uriel, quickly retreated into darker waters, like a dog recognizing the roar of a much larger predator.
The entire river seemed to hold its breath.
Looking into the distance, Uriel felt a devastating pressure, much greater than when he fought the Great Tyrant. A will so terrifying and monstrous that it far surpassed his and Shade's combined. It was like trying to measure the ocean with a bucket: there was simply no possible comparison.
But it wasn't just power he felt.
It was age.
This pressure didn't come from something born yesterday, or a century ago, or a millennium ago. It came from something that had existed before the river itself learned to flow. A will forged in eras that humans didn't even have names for.
"He felt us," thought Uriel, and in his mind, Shade's voice echoed with a rare hint of concern.
"It's not just that. He's been waiting for us."
The King of Twilight had sensed their presence and was coming in this direction.
The water beneath the ship's hull began to vibrate with a frequency that didn't belong to this world. The scales of the Time Collars Uriel had created emitted a faint glow, as if recognizing the proximity of something ancestral.
The corpses of the Leviathans and World-Eaters floating around them slowly began to sink, as if the sheer proximity of what approached was pushing them to the bottom. The waters cleared, the blood and rot dissipated, and for the first time in days, Uriel could see the perfect reflection of Twilight on the surface.
A mirror of blood and gold.
Uriel immediately looked at Cronos.
"Stop the ship!" he shouted, his voice cutting through the heavy air like a blade.
Cronos didn't hesitate. His hands, now more skilled than ever after his evolution as an Ascended, turned the helm with millimeter precision. The Time Killer stopped instantly, the waters around it forming lazy eddies that soon flattened into an unnatural calm.
The silence that followed was absolute.
Not even the wind dared to blow.
The creatures that hadn't yet fled let out one last collective whimper, a lament that rose from the depths like the song of a dying whale, and then fell silent.
---
Uriel quickly ordered his Great Tyrant to emerge from the waters.
The river's surface swelled as if something colossal were breathing from the depths, and then it rose. His Tyrant stood to its full imposing size, spanning several kilometers. Water fell in cascades down its dark flanks, each drop gleaming with a faint purple glow before disappearing into the river.
Its several pairs of purple eyes shone under the light of the perpetual Twilight, each the size of a small moon, observing with an ancient, hungry intelligence.
The water draining from its body carried away the smaller remains that had adhered to its flesh during navigation: bone fragments, broken teeth, pieces of Leviathan shell. All of it fell into the river with a sound like rain on metal.
Jumping from the ship, Uriel landed on one of his dark creature's tentacles, feeling the cold, throbbing flesh of the Tyrant beneath his feet. The tentacle tensed slightly, recognizing its master's weight, but did not move. All its being was concentrated on what was approaching.
His Void Cloak changed shape into a full-body black armor, leaving only his head visible. There were no concessions, no unnecessary ornaments: it was the armor of someone expecting a battle, not a duel. Each plate of the armor was covered in runes that glowed faintly, promises of protection written in a language that even Uriel didn't fully understand.
In his hand, a fang-shaped black sword formed, its edge so thin it seemed to cut reality itself. The blade whispered with forgotten voices, each one an echo of something Uriel had consumed. Around the hilt, shadows danced like black flames.
Uriel waited.
The seconds stretched into hours.
Each beat of his heart resonated in the silence like a war drum.
The Time Collars around the crew's necks glowed brighter, as if trying to protect themselves from something they couldn't yet see. Cronos, at the helm, watched in silence, his hands still firm on the wood, but his knuckles white with tension.
Until the invisible pressure increased.
The Supreme Tyrant released its will, a torrent of dark power that distorted the air around it. It slightly alleviated the pressure, but not enough. It was like trying to stop an avalanche with a paper shield. Daeron's will was an ocean; his Tyrant's was a river. Powerful, yes. But not comparable.
Watching the water, Uriel saw it bubble for a few moments. Small spheres of blue light emerged from the depths, floating to the surface like lost souls. Then, without warning, a gigantic column of water erupted, rising hundreds of meters wide.
The roar was deafening.
Millions of tons of water rose towards the twilight-stained sky, and in the center of that column, something moved.
The remains of the floating cities nearby were pushed back by the shockwave, crashing into each other with the sound of broken bells. A ghost ship, too close to the column, split in two as if it were paper, its two halves sinking slowly while the shadows of its dead crew dissipated into the water.
Raising his gaze, Uriel narrowed his eyes.
He saw a titanic blue sea serpent whose size could be considered terrifying. Its body was covered in thick blue scales connected in such a way that not even air could pass through them.
Its head was like that of a dragon, but more elongated, more ancient. Jaws that could swallow entire cities, golden eyes that had seen the birth and death of entire civilizations. From the corners of its mouth escaped a thick vapor that smelled of storm and salt, a breath that had dissolved entire mountains in other times.
On its back, it carried fins to control its swimming direction, each membranous like the wings of a primordial bat. But looking closer, Uriel realized they weren't fins: they were wings. Wings adapted for swimming, yes, but wings nonetheless. This creature had sailed other skies before ruling this river.
The enormous serpent moved its head down, placing its golden eyes directly on Uriel.
In that gaze there was no hostility.
Nor was there warmth.
There was only evaluation. Judgment. The same way a predator observes another in its territory.
The titanic serpent's body moved slowly around the Time Killer, encircling the ship like a living wall. Its scales scraped against the hull with a sound that made the wood tremble, but left not a single mark. It was a warning, not an attack.
Uriel felt Shade tense within his mind, every fiber of his being on high alert. "Don't make any sudden moves," Shade whispered.
The Tyrant beneath Uriel's feet emitted a deep sound, almost a whimper. It was the first time Uriel had heard his creature make that noise, a sound of involuntary submission, like a dog recognizing its superior master.
Uriel nodded imperceptibly, his hand gripping the fang sword without raising it.
Then, the enormous serpent vanished as quickly as it had appeared.
It didn't submerge.
It didn't retreat.
It simply ceased to exist in that form, as if reality itself had blinked for an instant.
For a moment, everything was silence.
The water that had been lifted by the column began to fall, not in a cascade, but in slow motion, as if time itself were paying homage to what was about to happen. Each drop gleamed with a golden reflection, and upon touching the surface, formed perfectly circular ripples that expanded into infinity.
And in the place where the serpent had been, in the sky, a man lay.
---
The tall man had a healthy appearance; his age didn't seem older than his mid-thirties.
His hair was gathered in a braid that fell down his back, so dark it seemed to absorb the light of Twilight. In the braid, between the hairs, small bones of impossible creatures could be seen: a dragon's vertebra, a Leviathan's fang, the claw of something nameless. Each bone was a trophy, each trophy a story of something that had dared to challenge him and lost.
His skin was bronzed by the sun, but not just any sun: it was the tone of someone who had sailed under dead suns and forgotten stars. Small scars crossed his arms and neck, each with a story that no one dared to ask.
He floated in the air as if the concept of gravity were a mere suggestion to him. There was no effort in his posture, no tension. He simply was there, in the air, like a man standing on solid ground.
His golden eyes — identical to the serpent's, equally ancient, equally deep — scrutinized Uriel from head to toe. They didn't blink. They didn't waver. It was the gaze of a predator who has already decided whether its prey deserves to be hunted or ignored, imbued with the arrogance of a Monarch.
That man was none other than the supreme of the river people.
Daeron.
The Serpent King.