Inside a domain, however, the user possessed absolute authority.

A domain was so dense with mana and spiritual particles that one could unleash techniques endlessly without fear of exhaustion. The only true limitation was mental fortitude.

A weak mind meant instant death the moment one attempted to open a domain. And even forming one in such a state would have been impossible in the first place.

And this was the problem.

Space was an obscure element—its visualization, its mechanics, its very nature were incredibly difficult to grasp. That made domains associated with space inherently fragile.

It wasn't that they didn't trust the Emperor.

But right now, with so many people within the potential domain range—and a High 8-star being present, one whose existence rivaled the Emperor himself—the mental burden placed upon him was terrifying. If his mind faltered even slightly, the domain could collapse the instant it swallowed everyone inside.

And that collapse would mean annihilation.

Yet Siegfried wasn't looking at the Emperor standing beside him.

His gaze was locked high above the sky.

His pupils trembleing.

"The Protector…" he whispered.

There—looming in the heavens—was a massive serpentine creature, observing the battlefield with cold menace. Its slit pupils were fixed on both the Emperor and the Angel. Even from such an immense distance, Siegfried could tell it was gargantuan, its colossal body coiling and swaying through the sky like a primordial wyrm.

But the Emperor wasn't looking at that creature.

His focus was absolute.

"Domain Expansion—EVENT HORIZON!"

Blink.

In the span of a single blink, every king found themselves transported somewhere else entirely. Where exactly? Even they didn't know.

They were suspended in a place where light flowed endlessly beneath their feet, streaming past at terrifying speed like luminous rivers pulled toward an unseen fate. Turning their heads, they saw it—a humongous black sphere looming nearby. It devoured all colour, its surface unnaturally smooth, while spirals of warped light bent, stretched, and revolved violently around it, screaming silently as it skirted the very edge of nothingness.

After a moment, their vision began to blur.

Reality itself seemed to stretch—elongating, widening—like an image pulled wide by invisible hands. Through the distortion, they caught sight of the Emperor, towering high, one hand raised, his eyes locked onto a radiant being standing before him. He felt close, yet impossibly distant, as though separated by an unreachable boundary.

The warped sight scratched at their senses.

It was nauseating and disorienting.

Then, with a sudden, decisive motion—

The Emperor brought his hand down in a sharp jerk, and their vision froze. Like time itself had stopped.

—A Few Days Later—

Cyrandel, the Elven Empress, felt her cheeks twitch as the news settled in. Even her eyes betrayed her, trembling slightly as she processed what she had just heard.

"Louis fought three angels at once… and defeated them single-handedly?" she repeated slowly, as though saying it aloud might somehow make it less impossible. Her gaze flicked back to Venyra, searching for even the smallest sign of exaggeration.

Venyra's pupils were tightly constricted, her expression rigid with tension. She bowed deeply before the Empress, lowering her head as she relayed the report—whether to show respect or to hide her own disbelief was unclear.

"Venyra," Cyrandel said after drawing in a few steadying breaths, forcing herself to regain composure.

"Yes, Your Majesty," Venyra replied at once.

"Did they obtain a summoning formation capable of calling Angels below the High 8-star level?" Cyrandel continued, bewilderment seeping into her voice despite her restraint.

"Because there is no way in hell Louis could have done that otherwise. When I fought, we were fortunate that the sacrifices were few enough to summon only a single Angel. At the time, I was a High 8-star as well."

"Even then, my three Spirit Beasts died—and I nearly died myself to just one Angel."

Her voice edged toward panic before she forcibly steadied it.

"No, Your Majesty," Venyra said firmly, dropping to one knee and bowing even deeper.

"The information is accurate. Our spies confirmed the number of sacrifices. They were sufficient for three Angels—and all of them were used. Even if the witnesses lied, the numbers themselves do not."

Cyrandel sank back into her sofa, her posture sagging slightly as her hand rose to her mouth. Without realizing it, she began biting at her nails.

"Did I make a mistake making an enemy of humanity two centuries ago…?" she murmured.

"I shouldn't have lost my temper…"

Venyra snapped her head up.

"No, Your Majesty. You did what was right," she said sharply.

"They kidnapped and killed our future god. They deserved what they got. Rather than regret, they should be grateful." Her voice hardened.

"Because of your actions, the population of complacent talent-holders was culled, and a new generation of stronger individuals emerged—one capable of standing against the Demons."

She straightened, conviction blazing in her eyes.

"And I am certain Emperor Louis understands that as well. That is why he has not moved against us after some initial conflicts."

Cyrandel heard her. She understood that Venyra was speaking partly to preserve her confidence—but there was truth in her words.

When Cyrandel and Louis had fought centuries ago, both still holding only King ranks, they had spoken in the midst of battle. Cyrandel had tried to explain how her actions had, in a cruel way, strengthened humanity. Louis hadn't accepted it then. Their clash ended not in victory, but in uncertainty, when Louis withdrew to verify her claims.

It took him nearly a century and a half to confirm their truth.

By then, it was already too late.

The hatred between Elves and Humans had taken deep root.

Eventually, the higher powers of both races dissolved their open conflict—partly because it had already waned among them and partly because they cared little for the deaths of the weak and common. In recent times, their relationship had shifted into something colder, more calculated—closer to that of business partners.

That was why Venyra could obtain information as sensitive as Louis defeating three Angels alone.

But it did not mean the two races were on good terms.

Everyone pursued their own interests.

And if sabotaging the other proved beneficial, they would not hesitate to do so.

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