Last Ruler Of The Empty Throne-Chapter 162: Alive

The Sun Executioner stood motionless, her golden armor glinting faintly under the dim glow of the Hollow Moon World’s artificial sky.

The holographic display from the Artifact Skyscraper had left her mind reeling, the raw power of the winged man and his devastating fusion of sun and moon energies etched into her thoughts.

A question gnawed at her: What could drive someone to such lengths? The destruction she had witnessed wasn’t mere rebellion; it was personal, fueled by a rage that transcended factions.

She needed answers, and the skyscraper held the key.

"Ilon," she said, her voice steady but laced with curiosity, "show me the last recorded locations of the world’s residents."

The skyscraper hummed, its runes flaring with a soft, ethereal light. A vast hologram unfurled before her, a cosmic map dotted with countless points of light, each representing a recorded location of the Blue Planet’s inhabitants.

Stars blinked in and out, forming constellations of movement across worlds, realms, and uncharted voids.

The soldiers behind her watched in awed silence, their breaths catching as the sheer scale of the data overwhelmed their senses.

"Filter it," the Sun Executioner commanded, her eyes narrowing. "Show me locations visited by three specific individuals: the couple and the spy."

The hologram flickered, the myriad points collapsing until only five remained, glowing faintly against the dark expanse of the projection.

She studied the display. Four of the locations bore names, worlds known to the factions, their coordinates etched into the annals of their archives.

But the fifth was an anomaly: an empty void, a blank space devoid of stars or markers. Her gaze lingered on it, a chill creeping up her spine. ’This is it,’ she thought. The missing world. The reason for their attack.

"Give me the coordinates for that place," she said, pointing at the empty space. The skyscraper pulsed, and a stream of data flowed into her mind, precise and unerring.

She turned to her soldiers, her expression resolute. "Prepare the fleet. We’re moving."

...

BOOM!

In the vast emptiness of the void, a cataclysmic clash unfolded. The air crackled with raw energy, the fabric of space itself trembling under the weight of the battle.

Nerom stood at the center of the chaos, his silver hair whipping in the turbulent winds of his own creation. His mist, a swirling vortex of gray, coiled around him like a living entity, but his expression was one of frustration.

Each exchange with his opponent had cost him. His mist, normally an unbreakable shield, was chipping away, eroded by the old man’s relentless assaults.

Nerom’s eyes narrowed as he recalled his mist, the tendrils retreating into his body with a faint hiss. The fight had lasted mere seconds, a blur of motion and power, but he knew the truth: he was losing.

Each time his mist met the old man’s lightning, it weakened, its essence fraying at the edges.

He could replenish it, as he always had, but the drain was undeniable.

’Who is this old man?’ he wondered, his mind racing.

In the vast expanse of the universe, only a handful of beings surpassed his 8th Realm power, fewer than five, by his reckoning.

Yet this stranger, with his unassuming frame and weathered face, wielded a strength that defied logic.

"Leave," the old man said, his voice low and resonant, carrying the weight of a storm. He flicked his wrist, and a bolt of lightning surged, not from above, as Nerom had anticipated, but from beneath, a jagged arc that tore through the void with blinding speed.

"Tch," Nerom hissed, spreading his mist in a protective cocoon around his army. The lightning struck, and the mist shuddered, more of it dissolving into the ether.

He clenched his fists, his jaw tight. "Move back," he ordered, his voice cutting through the chaos with icy authority.

His army obeyed without hesitation, retreating thousands of meters in an instant.

The 7th Realm commanders lingered closer, their weapons drawn, ready to support their leader.

But even they kept their distance, wary of the old man’s power.

Nerom’s eyes gleamed with resolve.

"Sky Form: Mist," he declared, his voice reverberating through the void.

The mist poured from him in a torrent, no longer a mere shield but a vast, uncontainable force.

It surged upward, coalescing into a sky that mirrored the celestial expanse of the Heavenly Sky World.

Blue and white clouds swirled, forming a canopy that pulsed with his will. The army gasped, realizing this was the origin of the Sky Palace’s name, a domain where Nerom’s power was absolute.

Before the old man could react, Nerom swung his sword, a blade of condensed mist that shimmered with lethal intent.

In a fraction of a second, the sword struck thousands of times, each cut a precise, devastating arc.

Yet the old man dodged with preternatural grace, evading each strike by a hair’s breadth.

Frustration flickered across Nerom’s face as the old man stepped back, drawing a cross in the air with his finger. Lightning erupted from the gesture, a blazing cruciform that roared toward Nerom.

BOOOOOOOM!

Nerom vanished, reappearing behind the old man in an instant, his sword slashing downward.

The blade struck the old man’s armor, yet the impact produced only a faint clink.

No explosion, sparks, no cracks, no damage. Nerom’s eyes widened in disbelief. ’How is he unaffected?’

The old man’s eyes flashed, and lightning erupted around him, a storm of electric arcs that illuminated the void.

KABOOOM!

Nerom teleported away, reappearing at a safe distance, his expression darkening.

"You’re good," the old man said, stroking his chin with a faint smile.

"Good?" Nerom’s voice trembled with barely contained rage, his eyes blazing.

"Sky World!" he roared, and the void transformed.

The air thickened, the stars dimmed, and the space around them became Nerom.

Water could fall from the sky at his whim, mountains could rise, and reality itself could bend to his will.

The old man’s eyes widened slightly, a flicker of respect crossing his weathered face.

"Not bad," the old man said, his hand resting on the hilt of the sword at his waist. "You’ve reached that stage, not bad at all."

Nerom opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, a series of explosions shattered the silence.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOOOM!

Space rippled as a fleet of ships materialized, their hulls gleaming with the golden sigils of the Sun Branch.

At their forefront stood the Sun Executioner, her armor radiant even in the void’s dim light.

Her eyes locked onto Nerom, then shifted to the old man, recognition dawning.

’Lightning,’ she thought, recalling the bolt that had torn through the hologram’s final moments.

"Why are you here?" Nerom demanded, his mist coiling defensively. His army raised their weapons, ready to strike the newcomers.

"Nerom!" the Sun Executioner said, her voice tinged with surprise as she noted the full extent of his power.

His Sky World pulsed with an intensity she hadn’t seen in years. She glanced at the old man, her mind racing. "I’m here for him," she said, pointing at the stranger.

The old man released his grip on his sword, stroking his chin. "You must be the Sun Branch," he said, his tone calm but probing.

"You know him?" Nerom asked, his Sky World still active, its energy crackling around them.

"No," the Sun Executioner replied, stepping closer despite the oppressive weight of Nerom’s domain. "But I know he’s connected to that couple." She paused, her eyes narrowing. "And to the missing world."

A voice echoed in Nerom’s mind, Amelia.

-Leader, if he is who I think he is, he’s also related to that boy I was telling you about.

Nerom’s expression softened, and with a sigh, he released his Sky World.

The mist receded, the void returning to its natural state. "Come," he said, gesturing for Amelia to step forward.

She obeyed, her silver armor glinting as she took her place beside him and the Sun Executioner.

Nerom turned to the old man. "Let’s exchange information. No more fighting, for now."

The old man considered for a moment, then nodded. "Alright."

"We start," Nerom said, gesturing to Amelia.

She took a deep breath, her voice steady but cautious. "During my patrol, I found a world I couldn’t enter. After struggling, I glimpsed something strange, a world in its second evolution, advancing in mere months. Its people were... abnormal. They fought beasts far beyond their level, growing stronger at an impossible rate. Among them was a boy, wielding Moon Faction abilities."

The old man’s face changed, his eyes sharpening with a mix of hope and dread.

Before Amelia could continue, he was before her in an instant, his presence overwhelming.

"Is he alive?" he asked, his voice low but carrying a weight that made the void itself seem to hold its breath.

It was a tone that promised destruction if the answer was wrong.

Nerom stepped between them, his mist flaring protectively. "That’s not how this works, old man."

The old man exhaled, his gaze softening. "I’ll answer three questions. Is that enough?"

Nerom considered, then stepped back.

"Yes," Amelia replied. ’Hopefully’

The old man looked to the stars, muttering under his breath as he exhaled, ’You wouldn’t die on me now, boy.’

He turned back to them, his expression resolute. "Ask your questions."

Nerom glanced at the Sun Executioner, who nodded. "Swear not to speak of what you hear today," he said.

After she swore an oath, the old man conjured a chair of crackling lightning and sat, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp.

Nerom formed a chair of mist and sat opposite him. "First, who are you?"

The old man smiled faintly, and a story began, one that would shake the foundations of their world. No, everything they ever knew.