Art and I sat in the courtyard, during a rare moment of calm—not exactly peace, but a temporary truce between ambition and exhaustion. Art leaned back against a stone bench, twirling a blade of grass between his fingers, his eyes gleaming with curiosity.
"Arthur," he began, breaking the silence, "how well do you think the Radiant-rankers would hold up against the demons?"
I raised an eyebrow, considering the question. "They should be able to hold their own," I replied confidently. "They've got high-level arts, Legendary artifacts, and at least one Gift each. With that kind of firepower, they could probably take down a Duke or at least hold their ground in a fight."
Art's expression was a mix of disappointment and the kind of pitying amusement one reserves for people who still believe in fairy tales. He shook his head. "Completely wrong."
"What do you mean?" I asked, frowning.
He leaned forward, gesturing with the blade of grass as though it were a wand of universal truth. "The Kings—your mighty Radiant-rankers—would be obliterated by any demon Duke or Duchess. Decimated. Pulverized. Turned into the kind of ash that gets swept under the rug."
"How is that even possible?" I demanded, incredulous.
Art's finger shot up like a professor preparing to unveil the mysteries of the cosmos. "It's simple. The way humans—and frankly, most other species on Earth—use mana and black mana is... well, pathetic. Laughably so. Demons use it far more efficiently."
"How?" I asked, leaning in despite myself.
"Let me give you a little example," he said, dropping the grass and clasping his hands. "Mind metamorphosis."
I blinked. "What about it?"
"On Earth, only you, Lucifer and your three lovers have gone through it," he said, pointing a finger at me for emphasis. "Mind metamorphosis is considered some grand achievement and most people don't even know what it is. But in the demon world? It's the bare minimum. If you haven't undergone it, you're not even qualified to fetch tea for a Duke, let alone become one. In fact, many young, talented demons undergo it before they've even learned to properly wield their first weapon, thanks to their parents ensuring their growth."
"You're joking," I said, my voice tinged with disbelief.
"Do I look like I'm joking?" Art asked, his face as serious as a gravestone. "The gap isn't just big, Arthur. It's a chasm, a gulf, an unfathomable void. Humans would be lucky if their Kings managed to even survive against a particularly strong demon Marquis, let alone a Duke."
"But how can the gap be that enormous?" I pressed, my pride—or perhaps my curiosity—demanding answers.
Art's lips curved into a knowing smile. "I'll show you," he said, rising to his feet with the kind of energy that suggested he'd been waiting for this moment all day. "You've reached Immortal-rank now, which means it's time you learned about True Domains."
"True Domains?" I echoed, following him as he began to pace, his hands clasped behind his back like a philosopher about to deliver a sermon.
"Yes," Art said. "Not the counterfeit rubbish you've seen so far. The so-called 'Domains' humans and other species use? They're embarrassing. Really, it's like watching a toddler wave around a wooden sword and call themselves a knight."
"What's wrong with them?" I asked, my tone defensive despite myself.
Art stopped and turned to face me, his gaze piercing. "They're just extensions of mana circulating in the world, bending the spatial axis around you. Sure, they work—in the same way a rusty sword technically works—but they're still trash. A demon Duke would laugh at you if you tried to fight them with one."
"So what's a True Domain?" I asked, my curiosity now burning brighter than my pride.
"Ah," Art said, his smile widening as though I'd finally asked the right question. "A True Domain isn't just an extension of your mana. It's an extension of you. Your soul, your mind, your essence. It's not about bending space; it's about redefining it. Within a True Domain, you are not just a participant in reality. You are its architect, its ruler. That's the kind of power demons wield."
I stared at him, the weight of his words settling over me like a shroud. For the first time, I understood the vastness of the gap between humanity and the demons. It wasn't just about strength or skill. It was about understanding, about mastery, about a fundamental difference in the way we approached power.
And after learning True Domains, I understood and agreed with Art's words completely.
The way I had been taught about Domains on Earth had been, in hindsight, painfully simplistic. The Heart, they said, was an engine—a convenient metaphor to describe the transformation of mana into astral energy, a force meant to reinforce the body. Effective, perhaps. Efficient? Debatable.
Domains, which required the second body metamorphosis as a prerequisite, were explained as a means to influence the space axis around us—useful for keeping enemies at bay, exerting pressure, and fortifying oneself. It was functional, certainly. But it was also… uninspired.
There was a hollowness to it, a sense of inadequacy that gnawed at me. The gap between each level of martial understanding was vast, yet the transition from Heart to Domain felt disappointingly narrow. Domain was marginally stronger, yes, but the leap from Domain to Unity? That was a chasm so wide it bordered on absurd.
And so, under Art's guidance, I resolved to forge my own Domain—one that would transcend the mediocrity of Earthly teachings.
I named it the Divine Emperor's Throne.
The Saintess Gift I had copied from Rachel through Soul Resonance suffused my Domain with light magic, creating a radiant balance alongside Lucent Harmony and Astral Manifestation. Layered upon this foundation was the mastery I had achieved through my Sword Domain, elevating it into something far beyond the mundane.
It was as though the essence of divinity itself flowed through me. Just as I had imbued Nyxthar with light to transform it into a weapon that gleamed like a fragment of heaven, my Domain embodied the very concept of the divine.
I was no longer merely mortal.
I was divinity.
Mythweaver, my third Gift, seamlessly intertwined with the fabric of my Domain, spinning its threads into an intricate tapestry of power and purpose.
"I am the strongest," I whispered, the words a quiet declaration, as much for myself as for the world. Mythweaver brought the story of my Domain to life, a golden crown materializing atop my head as I stood bathed in a light so pure it felt otherworldly.
Valen, standing across from me in his shadow-wreathed armor, regarded me with a mixture of awe and exasperation. His dark visage was the very antithesis of my radiance, and yet, there was an unspoken acknowledgment between us.
"Seriously," Valen muttered, his voice edged with disbelief. "What in the abyss have you done this time?"
"Nothing much," I replied with complete honesty. True Domains weren't difficult to create—at least not once you had undergone both mind metamorphosis and the second body metamorphosis. But understanding their essence, their purpose? That was the true challenge.
This was the level I had reached. This was the power I now wielded. And with it, I knew I could stand against the Demon Dukes themselves. Even Valen, formidable as he was at mid Radiant-rank, would struggle to overcome me at my peak Immortal-rank.
"Nothing much," Valen repeated, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Right. And I suppose that golden crown is just a fashion statement?"
I allowed myself a small smile. "It suits me, doesn't it?"
Valen groaned, muttering something about egos and deities as he prepared himself for whatever madness I was about to unleash next. But I could see the glint of respect in his eyes, buried beneath the theatrics. And in that moment, I knew that I had taken one step closer to bridging the gap that separated humanity from the demons.