Shadow Monarch in DC-Chapter 420: The Monarchs’ Successors

The deeper Arthur descended, the heavier the pressure became.

The roots of the World Tree stretched endlessly around him now, thicker than entire cities, pulsing faintly with life.

And at the very heart of that,

That creature moved.

Arthur slowed, hovering mid-air, his violet eyes narrowing as they locked onto it.

There, coiled along the roots like a parasite that had outlived reason itself,

Nidhogg.

The serpent dragon’s colossal jaws tore into the roots, ripping through them with brutal force. Fibers of existence snapped and unraveled under its bite, only to twist and stitch themselves back together moments later, as if the tree itself refused to yield.

A cycle of endless destruction and rebirth. A symbolism of something Arthur knew far too well. Arthur watched the dragon in silence for a brief second.

"I still don’t know how you’re back."

No response.

Only the wet, grinding sound of teeth against something that shouldn’t be edible.

Then, Nidhogg paused.

Its massive head shifted, slowly.

Its gaze found him, ancient bottomless eyes.

Arthur’s hand rose.

Darkness gathered instantly, violent, dense, Black hellish flames spiraled into existence, compressing into a single orb in his palm. A small souvenir from Hell itself.

His stance shifted slightly.

Prepared for the worst.

"...Let’s see if you remember me."

The flames crackled,

And yet

Nidhogg did nothing.

It stared.

Then, it turned away, and resumed gnawing.

Arthur blinked once.

The flames in his hand flickered.

"...You’re joking.."

No hostility. No roar. No attack, complete indifference.

Arthur’s eyes narrowed further, the orb of destruction still in his palm.

"Is it because..."

He tilted his head slightly, studying the creature.

"I already carry it?"

A pause.

"...the primordial darkness."

Nidhogg didn’t react.

Didn’t even acknowledge him again, Arthur exhaled quietly.

Then the flames in his hand dissipated, vanished without a trace.

"...Well." He stepped forward, landing lightly on one of the massive roots not too far from the dragon.

"This makes things easier."

His gaze lingered on Nidhogg for a moment longer.

"...You weren’t exactly an easy opponent."

A faint smirk touched his lips.

"Though I wouldn’t mind a rematch."

Another pause.

Then a small shake of his head.

"...Another time perhaps."

He pushed off the root

And shot forward.

Past the dragon.

Deeper still.

The entrance appeared soon after.

Sealed, carved directly into the roots themselves.

The altar. Arthur slowed as he approached it. The moment his feet touched the ground before it, It reacted.

A deep glow spread across its surface, ancient sigils igniting one after the other, recognizing him and acknowledging him.

The seal unraveled, the entrance opened.

Arthur stepped inside, the chamber welcomed him

Vast and circular.

Towering statues surrounded the space, monolithic figures standing in an endless ring, each one representing a power far beyond mortal comprehension, that of the monarchs.

And at the center

The sacrificial altar.

Unchanged, Arthur walked forward slowly, eyes glowed again.

Scanning, analyzing everything.

"It’s the same."

Everything exactly as he remembered.

Then he stopped.

"...Wait."

His gaze shifted upward.

To the sigils.

The ones carved beneath each statue.

Last time, only one had been active.

His.

Now, all of them were glowing.

All nine of them. Each one pulsing faintly with power.

Arthur’s expression changed.

Subtly.

"All of them..."

He stepped closer, eyes narrowing as he studied the patterns, the energy flowing through them.

"...That’s new."

His mind began to move faster.

Connecting.

"Does this mean..."

His voice lowered.

"...they went through this too?"

His gaze flickered toward the entrance behind him.

"Faced Nidhogg... passed their own trials... gathered their own armies..."

Another thought followed immediately.

"...and lived."

The implications settled in.

"...So I’m not the only one."

Arthur exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair.

"Of course it wouldn’t be that simple."

He turned slightly, glancing at the statues.

"At first, I thought the Monarchs I knew were behind the gates."

A faint shake of his head.

"but this..."

His eyes sharpened again.

"...this doesn’t match."

"The Rulers..."

The word lingered.

"they should exist too, and they might be the ones behind the gates."

His gaze darkened slightly.

"...and these Monarchs..."

"they don’t feel like the ones I remember."

Realization clicked into place.

"These are their successors."

His voice dropped further.

"Just like my case with Ashborn... they are people who inherited power..."

"after proving themselves."

Arthur crossed his arms, his expression tightening slightly.

"...That complicates things."

A lot.

He exhaled again.

"So now I’ve got unknown Monarchs..."

"unknown Rulers..."

"...and gates opening across Earth. Alongside other cosmic threats."

A faint, humorless chuckle escaped him.

"...Great."

His gaze drifted downward.

"I still have the key to the Chaos World, but that place is just a battlefield of an endless war, it might even be considered a graveyard too of our armies."

"...I doubt I’ll find answers there."

Arthur looked back up at the glowing sigils.

All nine of them.

Pulsing.

"So where are you?"

His voice was quiet.

The chamber didn’t answer.

But Arthur didn’t expect it to.

Arthur stepped closer.

Then he raised his hand.

Hesitated for just a fraction of a second.

And placed it against the wall.

The moment his palm made contact

The world shifted.

The chamber didn’t disappear.

Reality changed, like glass reflecting another scene beneath it.

Arthur’s eyes sharpened.

He didn’t move.

Didn’t pull away.

Because now he wasn’t alone.

Footsteps echoed.

Not his.

Another presence.

A man walked into the chamber.

Human.

At least... he had been.

His build was lean, but his movements carried a certain arrogance, loose, careless... like nothing in this place could possibly threaten him.

A laugh broke the silence of the chamber. Loud.

"That was one hell of a serpent."

He rolled his shoulder slightly, as if shaking off the memory of battle.

"Shame it’s dead now, it would have served me well as one of my generals..."

There was no reverence in his tone.

Just... dismissal.

His eyes swept the chamber.

Mocking.

"...So this is the place?"

A scoff left him.

"...What the hell is this.. some ancient shrine? Bit dramatic, don’t you think?"

Arthur watched him closely.

Observing.

The man walked further in, boots echoing against the stone as he approached the altar at the center.

"And gloomy as hell too."

He tilted his head, glancing at the statues surrounding him.

"The poor bastards..."

Then his gaze dropped.

To the altar, something flickered in his eyes.

"...Ah."

A slow grin spread across his face.

"So that’s how it works."

Arthur’s eyes narrowed slightly.

The man chuckled.

"Of course it does."

He flexed his fingers slightly.

"...Power always comes with a price."

A brief pause.

Then

"Sacrifice, huh?"

There was no hesitation.

Not even a flicker of doubt.

"Fine by me."

Arthur’s expression didn’t change.

But his focus sharpened.

Because the next moment

The man moved.

Fast.

His hand shifted, no weapon drawn, no spell cast

Just raw force.

His fingers elongated slightly, claws forming from his own flesh

And then

Thrust.

His hand drove straight into his own chest, a wet brutal sound echoed through the chamber.

The force alone would have shattered the bone of a dragon.

Pierced through everything.

Blood spilled, the man’s body trembled slightly

But he laughed.

A low, breathless, almost satisfied laugh.

"...Heh..."

His head tilted slightly forward.

"...Worth it."

His grip tightened

As if he was embracing the pain.

The altar beneath him began to glow.

Reacting, accepting the sacrifice.

And then

The vision shattered.

Arthur’s eyes snapped back to reality.

The chamber returned in full.

His hand was still pressed against the wall.

But now

It slowly lowered.

He took a step back.

Then another.

His expression had changed.

Not shock or confusion.

But he simply understood the fully story now.

"...Well."

His voice was quiet.

"That answers alot."

His eyes flickered toward the sigils again.

All nine of them.

Glowing.

"There are others."

A pause.

The memory replayed briefly in his mind.

The arrogance. The complete lack of hesitation.

Arthur’s gaze hardened slightly.

"...And they’re not like me."

His eyes narrowed further.

"That one also killed Nidhogg, and he didn’t look that much tired."

He tilted his head slightly.

Then

"And stabbed himself without a second thought."

His gaze shifted to one specific sigil.

It pulsed slightly stronger than the others for just a moment.

Subtle.

"The Dragon Monarch."

"That has to be him."

Arthur crossed his arms slowly, his posture relaxing.

That wasn’t just an enemy, that was someone that can Rival his own power, if not stronger.

Arthur exhaled slowly, turning slightly as his gaze swept across the chamber one last time.

"Alright."

His voice steadied.

"I see the bigger picture now."

A faint glow returned to his eyes.

"And I don’t like it."

"So the question is..."

A small pause.

"Which one of you makes the first move."

/-\

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