Max turned his gaze downward.
"Emperor's Domain," he muttered. A black flaming crown appeared on his head, mirrored by a massive crown high above the Monarch. Its fiery black brilliance pulsed, heavy and suffocating.
Then came the next command.
"Emperor's Judgment."
A rumble shook the sky.
And then hell was unleashed.
From the fiery crown, a barrage of weapons made of searing black flames began to rain down. Thousands—tens of thousands—swords, spears, axes, hammers—each one howling with vengeful power, descended like divine punishment upon the Monarch.
Screams tore through the air.
Cries of agony.
Begging.
Flesh was ripped apart. Buildings exploded into rubble. Blood splattered the once-proud halls. People tried to run—leaders, soldiers, even children of the inner court—but there was no escape. Every weapon found a target. The black flames did not discriminate. They fed on despair, on fear, on the very soul.
"NOOOO!"
"PLEASE—HELP—ARRGH!"
"STOP! I SURRENDER! I SUR—"
