The Fall of Valshara

The throne room of Valshara burned with golden light. Pillars of radiance climbed into the endless sky, and the air shimmered with power so dense it felt alive.

At the center stood Sol’Vareth, the King of Heaven.
The glow around him trembled—not holy anymore, but wild and fevered. His eyes blazed like suns ready to collapse.

“You came,” he said softly, voice echoing through the vast hall. “Good. Stop me… before I destroy everything.”

Across the dais, Raizen stood silent.
The lightning around his sword crawled up the blade like a living storm, whispering as if it already knew what must happen.

“Valshara is dying,” Sol’Vareth said, stepping down from his throne. Each step cracked the marble, gold dust scattering like embers. “The gods have become parasites, feeding on eternity. I was going to erase them all… cleanse the heavens.”

His smile wavered—half pride, half madness.
“You saw through me, didn’t you? You knew something twisted my will.”

He gripped his temple, voice trembling. “A voice older than light itself… a god who hides behind divinity. It poisoned me. It wants Valshara for itself.”

He dropped to one knee, golden blood spilling across the floor, hissing as it touched the divine stone.
“You’ve grown strong, Raizen,” he whispered. “Stronger than I ever was. My time has come.”

Then his tone softened. “Thank you… for stopping me before I damned us all.”

He breathed out one last time, calm and proud. “But remember this—something greater is coming. Something that wears godhood like armor. When it appears… you must face it.”

Raizen said nothing.

Sol’Vareth lifted his head and smiled faintly. “End it, my son. I believe in you.”

Lightning exploded.

Raizen vanished and reappeared in front of the throne, faster than thought.
A white arc ripped through the air, pure and final.
The sound came late—a thunderclap that tore heaven apart.

Sol’Vareth’s body stood still for a heartbeat, then collapsed.
His head fell, rolling gently across the golden floor as his body burst into fading light.
The throne cracked down the middle.

Raizen stood above the fallen god, his blade glowing like captured lightning, his eyes cold and unreadable.
The strongest god in existence had just killed the king of heaven.
And the heavens fell silent.

Moments later, the silence shattered.

A storm of divine energy rippled across Valshara. Portals of light tore open across the sky as gods flooded the dais, their auras shaking the air.

“Sol’Vareth is dead!”
“He struck down the King!”
“Raizen… what have you done?!”

Their voices rose into chaos.

The Queen of Valshara appeared, silver hair blazing, veil torn by the wind. Beside her stood Seraphen, Raizen’s younger brother, trembling in disbelief.

The Queen’s gaze froze on the fallen body.
“...No.” Her voice cracked. “You… you murdered the Crown of Heaven!”

Her fury tore through the hall like fire.
“By right of Valshara, I name Raizen a heretic—a traitor to creation itself! All legions—SEIZE HIM!”

Thousands of divine soldiers drew their weapons. Spears of light surrounded Raizen. The floor beneath him lit with sealing sigils.

Raizen’s sword pulsed once.
Every seal around him shattered.

He sighed. “Don’t.”

The first commander shouted, “Attack!”

The hall filled with blinding light.

When it cleared, Raizen was gone.

He appeared in a place without sky or ground—a void beyond creation, silent and endless.
Here, the lightning around his sword faded into a whisper.

Raizen fell to one knee. The emptiness pressed against him like guilt made real. For the first time, his divine calm trembled.

“I stopped him…” he muttered to himself. “But what if I only freed something worse?”

The darkness rippled.

A tall figure stepped out of the void and knelt before him, one knee on the invisible floor.
His armor shimmered black and violet, lined with demonic sigils that pulsed like slow heartbeats. Two long horns curved from his head, sharp and regal.

“My lord,” he said, voice low and steady. “You’re here. What happened?”

Raizen’s gaze flicked down. “Ryouken.”

The kneeling warrior raised his head, crimson eyes filled with restrained fury. “I have never seen you like this.”

“I killed my father,” Raizen said. “Now the gods will hunt me.”

Ryouken’s jaw tightened. “Then I’ll call my legions. Say the word, and the skies of Valshara will burn. You do not fight alone.”

Raizen shook his head. “No.”

Ryouken blinked. “No?”

“I’m leaving Valshara,” Raizen said, calm but final. “They’ll never stop until I’m gone.”

Ryouken’s voice hardened. “Then I follow. My army follows. My kingdom moves with you.”

“You will stay,” Raizen ordered.
Lightning flickered across his shoulders. “Who protects the heavens if you leave? Who holds your people together?”

Ryouken’s hand clenched. “Valshara has called you a monster. But my loyalty isn’t to their heaven—it’s to you.”

Raizen’s tone dropped low, quiet but sharp. “Are you questioning my word, Demon King?”

Ryouken lowered his head instantly. “Never, my lord.”

“Then listen.”

Raizen looked at the sword in his hand—the one that ended a god-king. Lightning rippled across the blade one final time.
“If peace ever returns to Valshara,” he said softly, “it won’t be by my hand.”

He stepped into the center of the void. Glowing runes appeared under his feet, spreading like veins of light through the darkness.

Ryouken’s eyes widened. “Raizen—what are you doing?”

No answer.
Only a deep, rising hum—the sound of power older than creation itself.

Raizen lifted the sword and thrust it through his chest.

The void screamed.
Light exploded outward, carving holy symbols into the dark. Ryouken staggered, the pressure making even the Demon King tremble.

Raizen fell to one knee, his body dissolving into light.
Through the chaos, his voice carried, calm and unwavering.

“Thank you… for being beside me all this time. I will return when you need me, Ryouken. Until then—be the shadow. Safeguard Valshara as well.”

Ryouken’s voice cracked. “My lord, stop!”

But Raizen was already fading, his form scattering into countless sparks of lightning.

“Till then… be the darkness that keeps the light alive.”

And then, he was gone.

Silence swallowed the void. Only Raizen’s sword remained—its glow fading, its storm sealed.

Ryouken approached slowly and picked it up, holding it with both hands—not as a weapon, but as a promise.

“This blade belongs to no god,” he whispered. “And no one will touch it… until you return.”

He stood tall, the crest of his kingdom burning across his chest—Noxvyr, the Dominion of Demons.
A realm that thrived beneath light, built from the shadows of fallen stars.

Behind him, the darkness stirred. A billion demons knelt in silence. A hundred commanders bowed, awaiting their king’s word.

Ryouken raised his hand, voice steady and cold.
“Protect the sword. Let none—god or mortal—lay a hand upon it.”

The army roared, their voices shaking the void.

Far above, Valshara wept and burned.
And deep below, in the black heart of Noxvyr, the Demon King turned away—carrying the weapon of a vanished god.

Somewhere far beyond the heavens, under a mortal sky, Raizen opened his eyes for the first time as a man.