A few days had passed since Donovan and the Leon family returned from the royal palace. Life at the mansion had taken on an unusual rhythm, a peculiar stillness that felt almost unnatural—especially around Donovan.
"Are you done with your chatter?" Donovan's cold voice broke through the invisible barrier, his empty yellow eyes fixed on the sky.
The narrator faltered for a moment.
Yeah, I think so, but this isn't exactly the best time to break the fourth wall, you know.
"Shut up." Donovan's gaze shifted, piercing the reader directly. "I don't think anyone cares about your chatter. Don't you have something better to narrate than my story?"
A moment of silence hung in the air before Donovan gestured dismissively. "Anyway, continue. I won't interrupt you this time." His voice carried a mix of indifference and authority.
As midnight descended over the Leon mansion, a quiet stillness filled the halls. Yet Donovan, restless as ever, descended the grand staircase into the dimly lit living room. There, seated on the oversized velvet sofa, was Angelita. Her white pajama set shimmered faintly under the flickering light of the television.Angelita turned at the sound of his footsteps. Her wide, surprised eyes met Donovan's stoic gaze, and she let out a startled yelp.
"D-Do-Donovan?!"
"Yeah," Donovan replied, his tone flat. "What are you doing here at this hour, Angelita?"
Angelita calmed herself, adjusting her posture on the sofa. Her eyes darted back to the television screen. "This is my favorite show," she admitted sheepishly. "It's about a young man who's destined to become a demon king against his will. As the story progresses, he realizes he needs this power to protect those he loves, but... he ends up clashing with another demon king." Her excitement grew as she spoke.
Donovan raised an eyebrow. "That premise sounds oddly familiar... everything except the last part. Maybe the author was too afraid to risk copyright issues." His comment was laced with subtle disdain.
Without further comment, Donovan walked over and sat next to Angelita. The proximity made her blush, but she quickly refocused on the show. They sat in silence, watching the screen as the protagonist engaged in a heated battle. Angelita's eyes lit up like stars, her expression brimming with excitement, while Donovan's remained as cold and unreadable as ever.
Outside, a sudden bolt of lightning tore across the sky, illuminating the room for an instant before the downpour began. Heavy rain pounded against the windows, adding a rhythmic backdrop to the flickering light of the television.
Donovan's gaze drifted to the wall, and his yellow eyes glowed faintly. His vision extended beyond the confines of the room, piercing through the mansion's walls to observe the storm outside.
"This rain... it's unusually heavy." The thought lingered in his mind.
"Hey, Donovan," Angelita's voice broke through his contemplation.
He turned to look at her, but his perception shifted in an instant. He saw through her completely—her bones, her organs, even the faint spark of her mind. The sheer clarity of the vision startled him. He stepped back abruptly, his hand covering his face as though shielding himself from the grotesque image.
"What?" Angelita asked, confused by his reaction.
Donovan groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I'll never forget that scene in my life... Ugh."
Before Angelita could respond, a blinding light erupted from the television. The screen crackled violently, arcs of otherworldly energy coursing across its surface. The static gave way to a strange, glowing vortex, as if inviting Donovan into its depths.
"Donovan," Angelita said, her voice trembling with worry.
"Stay here," he commanded, stepping closer to the television. "I'll handle this."
Without warning, the vortex expanded, pulling Donovan into its swirling light. Angelita's scream echoed in the empty room as the television returned to a normal broadcast—only now, it displayed Donovan standing in an entirely different world.
"W-WHAT?!" Angelita's voice cracked with shock.
Donovan found himself in a vast, alien landscape. The crimson sky swirled with ominous clouds, and the ground beneath him cracked with veins of glowing magma. The oppressive air hinted at a world governed by dark forces.
"This world is bound by laws and concepts... Or is it..." Before Donovan could finish his thought, two figures lunged at him from either side. Their fists, larger than any mortal's, aimed for his head. With calculated precision, Donovan caught each one mid-strike, gripping their massive hands effortlessly.
The two attackers smirked, stepping back to size him up.
"Greetings, mortal," one of them spoke, his voice dripping with arrogance. "I am Malphoros, the Crimson Tyrant. For someone as insignificant as you, that's the only name you need to remember."
The second figure stepped forward, his tone colder but equally haughty. "And I am Zephyros, the Shadow King. You'd do well to kneel before us, lesser being."
Malphoros towered at nearly 12 feet tall, his crimson skin glowing with molten cracks that seemed to pulse with power. Jet-black hair flowed down his back, tipped with glowing red streaks. His golden eyes burned like twin infernos, and his jagged armor radiated an aura of destruction. Behind him, massive, leathery wings stretched wide, their veins glowing ominously.
Zephyros stood slightly shorter at 9 feet tall, his ash-gray skin exuding an otherworldly presence. His silver-gray hair fell in smooth waves, contrasting with the void-like black of his eyes. Dressed in regal robes embroidered with silver and violet patterns, he carried himself with an air of hypnotic grace. Black, feathered wings unfurled behind him, shimmering like ink under moonlight.
Donovan's gaze remained steady. "They don't realize who they're dealing with... The consequences of challenging a creator."
"Kukuku... Did the mouse eat your tongue, mortal?" Malphoros taunted.
"Muahaha! Have you lost the ability to speak, pathetic one?" Zephyros added, his voice dripping with mockery.
Donovan's cold smile finally broke through. "They've already broken two rules—attempting to attack a creator and insulting one. Time for a lesson."
With a mere thought, Donovan pulled the souls of Malphoros and Zephyros from their bodies. The two demons crumpled as their forms reshaped into mortal-like appearances—their towering frames reduced to ordinary men dressed in simple black and white attire.
A snap of Donovan's fingers transformed the landscape into an endless void. The ground and sky vanished, replaced by infinite darkness. Malphoros and Zephyros, disoriented, looked around in growing panic.
"What is this place?!" Zephyros shouted, his voice trembling.
To their right, left, and behind, countless copies of Donovan materialized, each one sitting silently and staring ahead. In front of them, a colossal golden throne rose from the void, and the original Donovan descended onto it, crossing one leg over the other. The chorus of duplicates bowed their heads, chanting in unison, "The Original."
Donovan extended a finger toward Zephyros. "As a creator, I leave no trace of disrespect."
Zephyros bolted into the void, his fear driving him to run aimlessly. But no matter where he turned, endless copies of Donovan surrounded him, their empty eyes drilling into his mind. Madness consumed him, his screams echoing until his body faded into nothingness.
Malphoros, desperate to escape, found himself outpaced by Donovan's duplicates. They walked in perfect unison beside him, their cold presence suffocating. As he ran, their chant grew louder, transforming into an ominous song.
The endless copies of Donovan chant in perfect harmony, their voices layered with an unnatural resonance that vibrates through the void. Their steps echo like thunder, and Malphoros, trapped in the endless blackness, is flanked on both sides by the identical figures marching alongside him. The chant reverberates with Donovan's unyielding authority.
Verse 1:From the void before the dawn, he arose,
The master of the threads, the weaver of woes.
In his shadow lies the cosmos' breath,
He commands existence, he laughs at death.
Chorus:
All is his—creation and decay,
The stars bow down; the worlds obey.
No fate is free, no choice your own,
Bow to the Original on his golden throne.
Verse 2:
The skies were shaped by his decree,
The seas carved out to his melody.
The Original reigns, unmatched, supreme,
Your defiance crumbles, a fleeting dream.
(The copies turn their heads in unison, their glowing yellow eyes locking onto Malphoros. Their cold, synchronized voices become louder, drowning out his panicked breaths.)
Bridge:
Run, mortal fool, in this endless night,
There's no escape from the Absolute's might.
Your soul dissolves, your fear takes form,
The Original calls—your end is born.
Chorus (with fervent reverence):
All is his—creation and decay,
The stars bow down; the worlds obey.
No fate is free, no choice your own,
Bow to the Original on his golden throne.
Verse 3:
The realms of gods are threads he weaves,
Their fleeting power is what deceives.
Cosmic laws are but his art,
The Original tears all pride apart.
(As Malphoros stumbles, the clones' voices grow in power, reverberating like a storm. The chant transforms into a decree.)
Final Chorus:
All is his—creation and decay,
The stars bow down; the worlds obey.
No fate is free, no choice your own,
Banishment awaits by the golden throne.
Outro (as Malphoros fades):
(The copies raise their hands as if pulling invisible strings, their voices becoming a single, unified command.)
"The Original decrees: BE NO MORE."
(Malphoros's body begins to distort, his crimson form unraveling like threads of a forgotten memory. His screams echo faintly, then fade entirely as his existence is erased. The clones chant a final line in chilling harmony.)
"The Original reigns, the cosmos bends.
To him, all begins, and all ends."
(The void becomes still once more, the countless copies of Donovan bowing their heads in reverence toward the golden throne where Donovan sits, watching, unbothered.)
The warm glow of the television illuminated the living room, and the smell of buttered popcorn lingered in the air. Donovan stepped out of the television screen with his usual composed demeanor, his piercing yellow eyes scanning the room. He immediately noticed Angelita, Leon, and Luna sitting on the large couch, bowls of popcorn in hand, their eyes still glued to the screen.
Leon was the first to react, grinning ear to ear. "Err, you saw everything, right?" Donovan said, his voice as cold and collected as ever, though there was a faint hint of unease in his tone.
Leon laughed, tossing a piece of popcorn into his mouth. "Yeah, we saw it all! That was awesome, Donovan. I'm not going to lie—you were like the ultimate main character in there!"
Angelita clapped her hands together, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "This was the best episode of the show, hands down! You were incredible, Donovan. Thank you for making it so… unforgettable."
Before Donovan could reply, Luna leaned forward, a soft smile gracing her face. Her maternal tone was as comforting as the blanket draped across her lap. "You have a beautiful voice too, dear. Honestly, I didn't know you could sing like that."
Donovan paused, a rare flicker of surprise crossing his face before he quickly masked it. "Well… thank you. All of you." He gave a small nod, his tone calm but tinged with a quiet satisfaction.
Angelita scooted over on the couch, patting the empty space next to her. "Come on, Donovan. Sit with us. We're about to start another program."
After a brief hesitation, Donovan walked over and sat down beside them. For a moment, his imposing presence seemed to soften as he settled into the cozy atmosphere of the room. Leon passed him the popcorn bowl, and Donovan took a handful without protest.
The next program began, its cheerful opening music filling the room. The four of them sat together, enjoying the moment. The storm outside raged on, but inside the Leon mansion, laughter and lighthearted conversation filled the air.
For just a little while, even the all-powerful Donovan allowed himself to indulge in the simplicity of being part of something as mundane yet meaningful as a shared family moment.