Shadow Monarch in DC

THE DIMENSIONAL CRACK -

This place simply existed, a dimension between dimensions, vast and layered, Endless landmasses stretched beneath a sky that wasn’t truly a sky, but a shifting expanse of violet fractures, glowing faintly. The ground itself was vast plains and broken continents suspended in a space that had no true direction, no edge, and no limit.

Compared to this,

The Chaos World had been small.

It was the perfect sanctuary for the Monarchs.

And then, Space tore.

With a clean precision, as a vertical fracture of darkness split through the air, its edges lined with faint violet light that bled outward, it did not expand wildly, nor did it distort the space around it more than necessary. It opened just enough for one person to emerge.

And from it, He stepped through.

Arthur Blackwynd emerged into the Dimensional Crack, the portal sealed behind him without a sound, leaving no trace that it had ever existed.

For a moment, he simply stood suspended in the air.

Then gravity, or whatever passed for it in this place, recognized him, and he did not fall.

He hovered.

Shadow armor wrapped around him, darker than anything this dimension could produce, its surface alive with slow, shifting shadow currents, there was no helm this time. Nothing obscured his face.

His ashen white hair had grown longer, falling freely, stirred by a wind that did not exist until he arrived. It moved around him in slow motion, each strand catching the faint violet glow of the sky, giving him an almost unreal outline against the vastness behind him.

His eyes burned a deep violet, endless.

Behind him, a shadow unfurled, it was not a cape in the traditional sense, but something that behaved like one, darkness stretching outward from his back, shifting and flowing as if it were alive, trailing behind him.

Arthur’s gaze drifted across the vast expanse beneath him, taking in the scale of it, the sheer openness, the way the dimension stretched endlessly as though designed to house something far greater than what currently occupied it.

"So, they still chose this place to gather... It doesn’t feel like these monarchs are their successors, this sounds like them."

His voice carried without effort, low and even. There was no surprise in his tone.

His eyes shifted slightly, the violet glow sharpening as his senses extended outward, reaching with his intent.

He didn’t need too much time.

The moment his awareness brushed against them, it was clear enough.

Distinct and separate presences.

A faint pause followed, and then,

he exhaled quietly

"I can feel you there."

It wasn’t spoken loudly. His gaze narrowed slightly, focusing on the points where that power gathered, where the fabric of this place felt just a little more strained.

"Four."

The number came easily, he was certain.

His head tilted just slightly, as though listening for something more, something deeper beneath the surface.

But there was nothing.

No presence that dwarfed the others.

He didn’t find the one he wanted to find.

Arthur’s expression didn’t change, but he was annoyed.

"...You are still not here."

The words were quieter now, almost to himself.

For a moment, he simply hovered there, the shadow behind him continuing its slow, fluid motion, then, finally,

He leaned forward slightly, and the air itself seemed to give way as he began to descend, his figure cutting cleanly through the space.

"I expected as much," he murmured, his voice calm and steady.

His eyes lifted again, locking onto the distant points where the Monarchs waited,

"Is he really avoiding me, or is he preparing something.."

A faint, almost amused breath left him, barely noticeable.

"That’s fine."

The shadows around him deepened in response,

"I didn’t come here for him alone."

His gaze sharpened, the violet glow intensifying just slightly.

"I came for all of them."

Arthur’s descent ended without impact.

The shadows at his feet shifted, stretching outward,

A faint, almost amused breath left him.

"If that’s how you want to play it..."

He tilted his head slightly, as if considering the idea, though the answer had already formed.

"Fine."

His eyes dimmed just a fraction,

"I’ll start by sending one of mine."

His gaze lowered to the shadows at his feet, watching them ripple in response.

"Let’s see what they think they can offer to me... even if the answer doesn’t matter... I’m curious what that ice-elf bastard comes up with."

The shadow beneath him deepened and a figure emerged.

Quick.

He rose from the shadow and his form stabilizing in an instant before he dropped to one knee beside Arthur, head lowered in absolute respect.

"My king," Quick said, his voice steady despite the power surrounding him. "Your command."

Arthur didn’t look at him immediately. His eyes remained fixed on the distance for a moment longer before finally shifting downward, settling on the kneeling shadow.

"There are four Monarchs in this dimension," he began, his tone calm.

He took a step forward, the shadows beneath him moving with him, stretching slightly.

"Sillad," he continued, his voice carrying a faint edge as the name left him, "the Monarch of Frost. King of the snowfolk."

"Yogumunt. Monarch of Transfiguration. A creature that prefers to hide behind tricks and borrowed forms."

His expression hardened slightly,

"Querehsh, Monarch of Plagues, The Queen of Insects. Rot, poison and decay."

A brief pause followed.

"And Rakan," he finished, his tone flattening just slightly, "the Monarch of Fangs and King of Beasts."

Now he looked down at Quick fully, his violet eyes locking onto him with quiet intensity.

"They’re gathered together," he said. "And they know I’m here."

There was no doubt in that statement.

"They haven’t made a move, which means they’re waiting. Not out of fear... but out of caution. They want me to act first."

A faint exhale followed, something almost thoughtful.

Arthur’s gaze sharpened.

"That’s where you come in."

Quick didn’t move, didn’t speak, but there was a subtle tightening in his posture, a readiness to impress his Monarch that spoke louder than words.

"You’ll go to them," Arthur continued, his tone steady. "Not as a scout or as a spy."

"As a messenger."

"They may attack you," he added, his voice lowering just slightly. "In fact... I expect them to."

There was no concern in his tone.

"And if they do," Arthur went on, "then they’ll have made their choice for me."

His eyes dimmed slightly,

"That will be their declaration of war.. But Sillad..." he murmured, almost to himself. "He won’t rush it, he’ll want to talk. Offer something he thinks has value."

A faint, almost dismissive breath left him.

"I’ll humor that."

Arthur’s gaze settled fully on Quick once more.

"You’ll listen to whatever he says," he instructed. "Let him speak. Let them all speak if they want to."

Then, after a brief pause, his voice hardened just slightly.

"And when they’re done... you’ll give them my message."

The shadows around him deepened subtly, responding to the shift in his tone.

"Tell them the shadow monarch wants you to surrender," Arthur said, calm and absolute. "To kneel, to pledge themselves to me."

"And if they do," he added, just as evenly, "I’ll show them mercy."

The statement lingered, not as an offer, but as an ultimatum.

Quick lowered his head further, his voice unwavering.

"It will be done, my king."

Arthur gave a single nod.

That was enough.

In the next instant, Quick vanished with speed so overwhelming it left no trace behind. One moment he was there, kneeling in shadow, and the next he was gone, already crossing the vast distance between Arthur and the Monarchs.

The shadow behind Arthur shifted again, deeper this time, more refined. From it, another presence emerged, far steadier, far more composed.

Bellion stepped forward.

He did not kneel immediately. Instead, he inclined his head, his posture respectful.

"My liege," he began, "Forgive me, but that message you’ve sent..."

He didn’t finish,

Arthur exhaled quietly, then he smiled as he looked ahead.

"I know what you’re going to say, Bellion."

There was no irritation in his tone,

"That they won’t accept it. That it provokes them. That it closes the door before it even opens."

He turned slightly, just enough for his gaze to meet Bellion’s.

"I’m aware."

A brief pause followed,

"I carry Ashborn’s memories," Arthur said, his voice lowering, "Not in fragments or impressions of it."

His eyes darkened slightly.

"All of it."

He looked back toward the horizon, toward where Quick had already gone.

"I know what they are," he continued. "How they think. What drives them.. they’re arrogant and proud. Bound by their own nature more than anything else."

His gaze sharpened.

"They won’t kneel to me."

There was no doubt in that statement.

"And they won’t fight me head-on either," he added. "Not like this. Not without something tipping the scale for them."

Bellion remained silent, listening.

"They’ll look for him," Arthur went on, his tone steady. "They’ll want the Dragon Monarch involved."

A brief pause.

"But he’s not here."

That absence lingered more heavily than any presence.

"And that..." Arthur murmured, almost to himself, "...is the problem, there’s something off about this," he continued.

His eyes narrowed slightly, the violet glow dimming.

"Didi’s words weren’t meant to be ignored," he said quietly. "If that man gets his hands on the concept of destruction... He’ll become something far worse than he already is."

Bellion finally stepped forward, lowering himself into a respectful bow, his voice steady and unwavering.

"I understand what you are doing now, my liege. And No matter what comes... we will stand with you."

His head lowered further.

"We are your sword."

Arthur looked at him for a moment, the intensity in his gaze easing just slightly.

"I know."

/-\

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