Shadow Monarch in DC

A streak of red and black lightning tore across the horizon of the Dimensional Crack.

Quick’s form flickering in and out of existence as he moved, the space behind him distorting in brief ripples, and in moments, he crossed what would have taken armies days to traverse, his destination already known to him, not by sight, but by the overwhelming pressure of four presences gathered in one place.

He slowed, the land ahead was different and there they were.

Four figures, the Monarch of Frost stood slightly apart from the others, tall and slender, his pale blue form almost blending with the cold mist that was surrounding him. The air around him crystallized subtly, thin layers of frost forming and vanishing with each breath he took. His eyes settled on the approaching shadow.

Rakan stood with his arms crossed over his massive chest, golden eyers narrowed with hostility as if he was waiting for the moment to attack the shadow soldier.

Yogumunt floated next to him and Querehsha... she smiled. Even before Quick came to a complete stop, her expression had already became sharp and poisonous, her gaze lingering on him with a kind of amused curiosity.

Quick halted a short distance away, red lightning still flickering faintly around his body.

For a moment, no one spoke. Then Quick felt a serious pressure, it was not a physical force, but it might as well have been. Their combined presence pressed down on him from all sides, a silent, instinctive attempt to crush what stood before them, a test.

Rakan’s lip curled almost immediately.

"A shadow," he muttered, his voice filled with disdain. "He sends this instead of coming himself?"

Querehsha let out a soft laugh, tilting her head slightly as she observed Quick more closely, her eyes glinting with interest. "How disappointing... I was hoping for something more entertaining."

Yogumunt’s form shifted subtly, his voice emerging from the space around him. "Careful. That ’shadow’ is a door. One he may step through at any moment."

That was enough to get them to calm down, if only slightly.

Sillad, however, did not look displeased. If anything, he looked... amused.

Quick remained unmoved by their reactions. The pressure, the disdain, the quiet hostility, it meant nothing to him. His violet eyes flickered once, calmly sweeping across each of them before he spoke.

"The Monarch of Frost and King of the Snow Folk, Sillad. The Monarch of Fangs and King of Beasts, Rakan. The Monarch of Transfiguration and King of Demonic Specters, Yogumunt. The Monarch of Plagues and Queen of Insects, Querehsha."

He paused, just briefly.

"My king is willing to hear what you have to say."

That was enough to draw a reaction.

Sillad’s smile deepened slightly, his gaze sharpening with interest as he took a step forward, the frost around him spreading faintly across the ground beneath his feet.

"Addressing us by names long abandoned..." he said softly, almost thoughtfully. "Very well."

His eyes lifted, not toward Quick, but through him.

As if he could see the one who was listening from the other side.

"The Shadow Monarch has grown... that much is undeniable," Sillad continued, his tone calm, every word chosen with care. "Even the fall of the Monarch of Iron Body stands as proof of that."

Rakan shifted slightly at the mention, his expression darkening, though he said nothing.

Sillad went on.

"And yet, despite that... we do not come as enemies. We would welcome him as an ally."

Querehsha’s smile widened at that, her fingers lightly brushing against her arm as though imagining something already in motion.

"All he must do," Sillad continued, "is pledge his strength, and his army to our cause."

The air grew colder.

"He has walked this path before. He knows why we exist. He knows why this war has never ended, in fact no one knows this better than he does." His voice sharpened slightly, "Once, he chose differently. But that... can still be corrected."

Yogumunt’s form pulsed faintly, in agreement.

"The Rulers grow weaker," Sillad went on, his gaze never leaving the unseen presence beyond Quick. "The Dragon Monarch gathers his strength even now, empowered by something... new."

At that, even Rakan’s expression shifted slightly, his face almost turning pale.

"And soon," Sillad finished, "the Rulers will be no more."

The words lingered in the air.

"We have already chosen your world as the battleground," he added after a moment, his tone almost dismissive now. "The Rulers cling to their pathetic efforts, empowering humans in a futile attempt to resist us, but it will be a quick battle this time for us, a decisive victory, and naturally that world will be destroyed in the process, just like in the past."

Querehsha let out a quiet, amused hum.

"They are... soft," she murmured, her voice filled with mockery. "Fragile little things, clinging to each other as if it matters."

Her eyes flickered toward Quick.

"We were almost disappointed," she added, her smile turning sharper, "that you did not harvest your earth to expand your army like we did with ours. Though I suppose... they are beneath even your standards."

Rakan exhaled sharply through his nose, his gaze shifting briefly toward Sillad.

"And we’re certain he’s listening?" he asked, his tone edged with suspicion. "Or are we speaking into a trap?"

Yogumunt answered before Sillad could.

"He could be here already," the specter said, his voice distorting faintly. "That shadow is all the invitation he needs."

Rakan got silent after that.

Then Sillad continued, unfazed. "It is true we tested you in the Chaos World," he admitted, his expression not changing in the slightest. "But we did not interfere with your battles, we saw your strength..."

His voice lowered slightly.

"And we recognize it."

There was something almost respectful in the way he said it, but it never quite reached sincerity.

"This war must end," Sillad said. "And to do that, we need both you... and the Dragon Monarch, and he is already an ally to us."

Querehsha’s smile softened into something almost nostalgic. "It would be lovely," she said quietly, "to have you with us again... just like old times, we might only carry memories, but we are still all the same."

Sillad inclined his head slightly, as though concluding a formal address.

"The others are not present," he added. "But they will gather in time."

"That is all."

Once more their attention returned fully to Quick.

The silence that followed Sillad’s final words did not feel like an opening for dialogue, but then Quick took a single step forward, the faint crackle of red lightning returning around him.

"If that is all," he said, his voice as calm as it had been from the start,

"I have a message from my monarch... for all of you."

"My king..." he began, "does not bargain with those who have already chosen to stand beneath him."

his eyes burned brighter.

"He commands this instead..."

"You will kneel."

The words landed like a slap to their faces.

"You will cast aside your delusions of equality and recognize what stands above you. You will pledge yourselves, your strength, your armies, your very existence to the Monarch of Shadows..."

The lightning flared once, violently.

"And in doing so," Quick continued, "you may yet be granted the mercy you do not deserve."

For a fraction of a second, none of them moved.

Not because they were considering it.

Because they were processing this insolence.

Then Rakan’s lips peeled back into a snarl, a low, dangerous growl rumbling from deep within his chest as his muscles tensed, claws flexing.

Querehsha’s smile didn’t disappear, but it changed. What had once been amused smile twisted into a more venomous smile, her eyes narrowing as an unsettling laugh slipped from her lips.

"Oh..." she murmured, almost delighted despite the insult. "How bold."

Yogumunt’s form distorted more violently than before, "How... predictable," his voice echoed.

But Sillad, Sillad did not speak. Not immediately but the temperature dropped.

It plummeted as frost spread outward from where he stood, thin at first, then thicker, sharper, the ground beneath his feet cracking as layers of ice formed in rapid succession.

His smile was still there.

But it was no longer pleasant.

Quick remained still, unflinching beneath their reactions, the faint crackle of lightning continuing to dance along his form. When he spoke again, it was with the same calm certainty, as though nothing had changed.

"That," he said evenly, "Is his statement."

This was not an offer. It was an ultimatum.

"He never intended to listen to the likes of you."

That was enough.

Rakan moved.

There was no warning or buildup, just an explosion as the Monarch of Beasts lunged forward, the ground beneath him shattering under the force of his step. His massive form blurred through the distance in an instant, his claws came down on Quick with enough force to tear through mountains.

"Insolent slave!"

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