The figure watched in silence.
There was no urgency in his posture. No tension. Just quiet observation, as if the outcome had already been decided long ago. The rise and fall of power meant little to him.
Then, he spoke.
"The battle is already nearing its end."
His voice was low, calm, and absolute. It carried no doubt, no hesitation. The moment the words left him, the projection flickered slightly, reacting to his will.
He rose from the throne.
Its movements were slow and deliberate, but the entire chamber reacted. The walls pulsed stronger, the air thickened, and the surrounding death affinity condensed toward him as if answering a silent command.
"It is time… to reap the harvest."
A single step forward.
The shadows beneath him stretched unnaturally, rising up like living things. They wrapped around his form without resistance, swallowing him completely as if he had never been there.
The throne remained empty.
And in the next moment, he was gone.
****
