Chapter Seventy-Seven: A Tyrant Unbound

The grand throne room of Celantheris was an orgy of excess. Black marble pillars stretched toward a ceiling inlaid with glowing red veins, pulsing like the arteries of a living being. The courtiers cavorted in grotesque displays of decadence: feasting on raw flesh, engaging in bizarre and violent games, and chanting praises to their mad ruler.

Emperor Ghirthal IV reclined on his throne, draped in flowing black silks, his golden circlet glinting in the flickering light. His fingers tapped idly on the armrest, a rhythmic sound that silenced the room in an instant.

"My beloved Alora," he mused aloud, his voice dripping with a mix of longing and fury. "She thought she could escape me. That she could flee to another reality and forget her place."

He stood abruptly, his cape billowing like a living shadow. "But I am no mere man. I am the architect of destiny, the harbinger of unity. Celantheris shall consume her sanctuary, and she shall kneel before me."

The courtiers erupted in frenzied applause, their devotion more a desperate attempt to avoid his wrath than genuine admiration.

In the depths of the palace, the Reality Engine hummed with growing intensity. The machine's intricate network of runes and conduits stretched out like a web, glowing with unstable energy. The air around it warped and shimmered, creating brief, nightmarish glimpses of Earth's reality bleeding into Celantheris.

The Emperor's chief scientist, a gaunt figure with elongated fingers and hollow eyes, approached cautiously. "Your Majesty, the engine's power is vast, but it is unstable. The merging of realities—"

"Will proceed as planned!" Ghirthal bellowed, his voice echoing through the chamber. "Do you dare question my vision?"

The scientist bowed deeply, his voice trembling. "No, Your Majesty. But the strain on Celantheris is growing. The foundations of our reality are... unravelling"

Ghirthal's eyes glowed with manic fervour. "Let it unravel. The weak will perish, and the strong will inherit the new world I create. Prepare the final sequence."

Across Celantheris, the effects of the Reality Engine became impossible to ignore. Cracks formed in the ground, seeping dark energy that corrupted everything it touched. Buildings twisted and bent as if alive, their surfaces rippling like water.

In one market square, citizens screamed as fragments of Earth's reality burst into existence: jagged mountains, flickering neon signs, and entire vehicles materialised, only to vanish moments later.

In the palace gardens, roses bloomed black, their petals dripping with ichor. The courtiers whispered nervously, their usual hedonism tempered by the creeping dread that their world was dying.

But Ghirthal was oblivious to the chaos.

In his private chamber, Ghirthal gazed at a massive portrait of Alora, her likeness rendered in eerie detail. He caressed the painting's edge, his touch almost tender.

"You stole more than my heart," he murmured. "You stole my pride, my power. But you will return to me, my beautiful thief. And this time, you will not escape."

He turned to a nearby servant, his voice sharp. "Bring me the artefact. The one she dared to steal."

Moments later, the servant returned with a small, intricately carved box. Ghirthal opened it to reveal a shard of crystal, its surface shimmering with faint images of Alora's home reality.

"She thought she could hide from me in this place," he said, his tone venomous. "But I will make it hers no longer."

Deep within the palace, the Reality Engine roared to life, its power spilling out in chaotic waves. Mages and scientists worked frantically to stabilise the machine, their faces pale with fear as the Emperor strode into the chamber.

"Your Majesty," one of the mages began, his voice shaking. "The energy is destabilising faster than we anticipated. If we proceed—"

"You will proceed," Ghirthal interrupted, his voice icy. "Or you will burn with the rest of this world."

The mage hesitated, then nodded, beginning the final incantation. The engine's glow intensified, and the chamber shook violently as the merging of realities began.

As the process unfolded, the Emperor's obsession reached its peak. He ascended to a balcony overlooking the city, his voice booming across Celantheris.

"Witness the birth of a new reality!" he declared, his arms outstretched. "Earth and Celantheris shall become one, and I shall reign supreme over all creation!"

The city quaked, its inhabitants screaming as rifts tore through the streets, pulling fragments of Earth's reality into their own. A towering skyscraper materialized in the distance, its glass windows shattering as it collapsed.

In the chaos, mothers devoured their children, lovers turned on one another, and the courtiers' twisted games became outright slaughter.

Elsewhere in the city, the rebels watched in horror as the Emperor's plan unfolded.

"This is madness," the young woman muttered, clutching her dagger.

Christopher stood among them, his face grim. "Madness, sure. But it's also a weakness."

The older man turned to him. "What do you mean?"

Christopher lit a cigarette, his hands steady despite the chaos. "He's blinded by his obsession with Alora. If we can distract him—make him think she's closer than she is—we might have a shot at stopping that damn machine."

The rebels exchanged uneasy glances but nodded. "What's the plan?"

Christopher smirked, exhaling a plume of smoke. "We give him what he wants—or at least make him think he's getting it."