Chapter 59: The Path to Strength

The night was quiet.

The city outside was bathed in moonlight, the soft glow illuminating the empty streets. A gentle breeze rustled the trees, their leaves whispering against one another in a hushed, rhythmic dance. Somewhere in the distance, the sound of crickets filled the silence, their soft chirps blending seamlessly into the stillness of the night.

And yet—

Sylas could not sleep.

His mind was restless, thoughts swirling like an unrelenting storm. No matter how much he tried to push them away, they remained, clawing at the edges of his consciousness, refusing to let him rest.

With a sigh, he sat up, pushing the blankets off him. His golden eyes glowed faintly in the darkness as he ran a hand through his silver-white hair, frustration evident in his posture. He had experienced things far beyond what most could comprehend—seen the rise and fall of civilizations, fought creatures that defied the very laws of reality, and wielded power that could shake the fabric of existence itself.

And yet—

It still wasn't enough.

His gaze flickered to the wooden desk at the corner of the room. Floating just above its surface, bathed in a faint glow, were his two weapons—Crown of the Fallen and Lance of Velrage.

Ancient. Powerful. Alive.

They hovered weightlessly, their presence humming with energy, responding to his unspoken call.

For a moment, Sylas simply watched them, his mind turning over the same question that had haunted him for so long. Then, with a deep breath, he finally spoke.

"So," he muttered, his voice low and measured. "Do you two think I'm stronger?"

The response was immediate.

"Well, you have certainly grown stronger!" Lance of Velrage declared, its voice filled with unwavering confidence. "My lord!"

Sylas raised an eyebrow at the enthusiasm.

Before he could respond, Crown of the Fallen interrupted, its tone far calmer, far more calculating. "Ahem—no," it said plainly. "You are still at the same level you were when Lance of Velrage was created."

Sylas exhaled through his nose, leaning back slightly. "So it's not enough…"

He had faced gods. He had shattered planets. He had rewritten time itself. And yet, there was still a ceiling—a limit he had not yet broken.

That was unacceptable.

"Well," he murmured, crossing his arms. "Seems like I need to do something to become stronger."

As if waiting for that exact moment, his two weapons immediately began offering their own solutions.

"Absorb the souls of millions!" Lance of Velrage suggested eagerly. "That will increase your stats by at least ten percent!"

Sylas shot the spear a flat look. "That's too much effort for too little gain."

"No," Crown of the Fallen countered smoothly. "Absorbing the soul of a Murmux would be far more beneficial."

Sylas's eyes narrowed slightly at the suggestion.

Murmux.

A species that defied the very concept of biology. Their bodies were not composed of flesh or matter. They existed outside the normal laws of physics, their forms constantly shifting, constantly adapting. To kill one was a feat in itself—to consume one? That was something else entirely.

But—

It would make him stronger.

He closed his eyes briefly, focusing his senses. His parents were asleep. The entire house was still. If he was going to do this, now was the time.

With a single motion, he created a gate.

Reality split apart before him, the very air fracturing as a swirling vortex of energy erupted in the center of his room. The portal hummed with power, its edges crackling with barely-contained energy.

Without hesitation, Sylas stepped through.

And in an instant—

He was gone.

Somewhere in a distant galaxy…

The moment Sylas arrived, he felt it.

The Murmux.

It was already there, waiting.

It did not hesitate. It did not question. It did not think.

It simply attacked.

The creature's massive form twisted and lunged, moving with a speed that should have been impossible for something of its size. Its body was a monstrosity of shifting mass, an ever-changing amalgamation of darkness and light, flickering between existence and non-existence.

Sylas barely had time to raise his hand before the first blow landed.

BOOM!

The impact sent him flying, his body smashing through entire planets as if they were mere obstacles in his path. Stars blurred past him as he tumbled through space, his bones vibrating from the sheer force of the attack. He gritted his teeth, twisting mid-air, stopping himself before he could be sent hurling into another solar system.

Before he could even catch his breath—

The Murmux was upon him again.

Its limbs—if they could even be called that—stretched outward, forming massive tendrils of pure destruction, each strike carrying enough force to erase entire civilizations.

Sylas moved, dodging one, two, three strikes before twisting his body and delivering a counterattack—

Only for his fist to pass through the creature as if it were nothing more than an illusion.

His eyes narrowed.

Of course.

The Murmux did not exist in the way that normal beings did.

It was shifting, phasing between different layers of reality, existing and not existing all at once.

But—

That was fine.

Because he had something else.

As the Murmux's tendrils came crashing down again, Crown of the Fallen suddenly spoke.

"Adaptation complete."

Sylas smirked.

Good.

The Murmux lashed out again, its form flickering between realms. But this time—

Sylas met its strike head-on.

Their fists collided, and the universe screamed.

A shockwave erupted from the impact, its force ripping through the galaxy, obliterating planets, moons, and stars alike. The very fabric of space-time distorted, warping violently as the sheer energy released shattered everything in its path.

Entire solar systems vanished in an instant.

Entire civilizations were reduced to dust.

And yet—

Sylas did not falter.

He did not waver.

He pressed forward, his golden eyes burning with newfound power.

With a flick of his wrist, he summoned a fireball, its flames condensed into a single, perfect sphere of annihilation. The very core of the attack burned with the energy of a thousand dying stars, its heat so intense that reality itself seemed to melt around it.

Without hesitation, he hurled it.

The fireball tore through space, screaming toward the Murmux like a divine judgment.

But—

The Murmux caught it.

With an almost casual movement, it deflected the attack, sending the fireball hurtling toward a nearby planet.

Sylas's eyes widened slightly.

And then—

BOOM!

The planet was destroyed.

Not merely shattered.

Erased.

Sylas exhaled, rolling his shoulders. "Well then…"

His grip on Lance of Velrage tightened.

"Let's get serious."

The battle had only just begun.

The Murmux did not stop growing.

Its body expanded, shifting and twisting, its mass increasing at an exponential rate.

Before Sylas's very eyes, the creature absorbed the surrounding matter, devouring entire planets, moons, and even the remnants of dead stars. Its form stretched across the cosmic horizon, an unfathomable mass of writhing, pulsating energy, no longer bound by any recognizable shape.

Its presence alone bent the laws of physics, warping gravity, light, and time itself.

And then—

It reached the size of an entire galaxy.

Sylas tensed, his mind racing.

"This… isn't good."

The sheer weight of the Murmux now equaled that of an entire galactic cluster. The surrounding space was collapsing inward, spiraling into a gravitational abyss that threatened to consume the entire sector of the universe.

The fabric of reality trembled under the monstrous force.

The Murmux, now a cosmic horror beyond reason, let out a soundless roar, its entire body vibrating at a frequency that sent shockwaves across the void.

And yet—

It continued growing.

It would not stop.

It could not stop.

Sylas's golden eyes narrowed as he steadied himself, gripping Lance of Velrage tightly. He had fought gods, had defied death, had rewritten time itself.

But this—

This was a threat unlike anything he had faced before.

And then—

Crown of the Fallen spoke.

"Sir! Teleport him to the Veil of Reverie!"

Sylas's mind snapped into focus.

Yes.

The Veil of Reverie—the place where his will shaped reality. A realm that existed outside the confines of time and space, where thoughts became law.

If the Murmux was growing beyond control in the physical universe—

Then he would remove it from the universe entirely.

With a single motion, Sylas reached forward—

And touched the Murmux.

The moment his fingertips made contact with its shifting, unstable form, reality fractured.

The Murmux shrieked, its massive body convulsing as the very concept of its existence was seized by Sylas's authority.

And then—

The universe collapsed around them.

The stars, the galaxies, the very fabric of space-time twisted into a singularity—

And vanished.

The Veil of Reverie

The moment they arrived, everything changed.

The swirling fog of the Veil stretched endlessly in every direction, a boundless void where thought dictated reality. The rules of existence here were not bound by logic, nor by the laws of physics.

Here—

Only willpower mattered.

And Sylas's will was absolute.

The Murmux, now trapped within this infinite dreamscape, writhed violently, its formless mass shifting erratically as it tried to comprehend what had just happened.

It could not.

It would not.

Because here—

It was at Sylas's mercy.

Sylas stood before the creature, his golden eyes gleaming with a power beyond comprehension. His very presence in this realm was like that of an author standing over a blank page, an artist before an unfinished masterpiece.

Here, he was not just a warrior.

He was the storyteller.

And the Murmux's story—

Was about to end.

Sylas raised a hand, and instantly, the Murmux's massive body compressed.

The once galaxy-sized being shrunk in an instant, its form distorting, reducing, becoming smaller and smaller, until it was nothing more than a single, fragile parchment floating in the air before him.

A script.

Sylas reached forward and took hold of it.

He ran his fingers over the surface, his mind absorbing everything—its essence, its past, its origins, its very reason for existing. Every event that had led to its creation, every battle it had fought, every world it had devoured—

It was all written here.

A mere story, no different than words on a page.

Sylas's expression was unreadable as he rewrote the script.

With a flick of his wrist—

The Murmux ceased to be.

It did not die.

It did not perish.

It was simply removed—as if it had never existed to begin with.

A story left unfinished.

A character erased from the book.

The fog of the Veil of Reverie swirled in response, folding around the empty space where the Murmux had once been. The reality of the Veil settled, recognizing that the creature was no longer part of its narrative.

And then—

Silence.

Pure, unbroken silence.

Sylas exhaled slowly, lowering his hand.

It was done.

The Awakening of a King

A shift.

A pulse.

A power unlike anything before surged through Sylas's body, his very essence expanding in response to what he had just done.

To remove something from existence within the Veil of Reverie was no simple feat. It required a level of authority beyond normal understanding.

It was not destruction.

It was authorship.

And now—

Sylas Corvus Arctanis had become strong enough to destroy a universe.

His golden eyes flickered with something unreadable.

Was this enough?

Would this power be sufficient to challenge the Demon King of Salvation?

Perhaps.

But something told him—

This was only the beginning.

With a final glance at the empty space where the Murmux had once existed, Sylas turned—

And left the Veil.

Back in His Room…

His eyes opened.

He was back.

The soft glow of the moonlight filtered through the window, casting faint shadows across the room. The city beyond was still silent, still peaceful, still unaware of the battle that had just transpired in a realm beyond their understanding.

He exhaled, running a hand through his hair.

In his shirt pocket, Crown of the Fallen and Lance of Velrage remained disguised as simple pens.

But they were not the same.

And neither was he.

Sylas sat up, staring out at the quiet city beyond.

His journey was far from over.

But now—

Now he was ready.

And soon—

The Demon King of Salvation would fall.

The End.