GODGAME

The Monster King

LOCATION: THE MONSTERVERSE.

Monsters.

It is never a simple word when used to describe the inhabitants of the Monsterverse.

These creatures vary entirely based on raw strength, and their hierarchy is absolute.

The stronger the monster, the greater the respect demanded.

The greater the authority, the higher the rank—and with a higher rank came the right to challenge a rival for their position.

A challenger could formally request a duel for a spot in the ranking, leaving the current holder to defend their place or fall.

Through brutal rules and relentless requirements, a monster either rose to power or perished in the attempt.

This was the law of the Monsterverse.

Fight, conquer, and survive in a continuous cycle of blood, sweat, and terror.

At the absolute apex of the hierarchy sat the Emperor of the Monsterverse, ruling above all others with a single, undisputed title: The Monster King.

Right now, Za and Arcus materialized deep within the grand hall of the Monster King.

Towering pillars of obsidian stone held up the vaulted ceiling, illuminated only by unnatural, flickering red flames.

Outside the heavy doors, the dull sound of grunting and bone-crushing impacts echoed from a training arena—casual combat for bloodthirsty entertainment.

Za shoved Arcus forward, sending him stumbling hard until he hit the stone floor on his knees.

Keeping his head low, Za offered a deep, calculated bow toward the figure shrouded in the deep shadows of the throne.

"Emperor Malakor," Za murmured, his voice with reverence.

The figure on the throne moved slightly at the sound.

Pupils of crimson red, opened in the gloom, looking down with detachment at Arcus, the pathetic creature bowing before him.

Za continued, gesturing lazily toward Arcus, who knelt in a cold sweat without daring to raise his gaze.

"I found Arcus in the human realm, My Lord. Funny occurrence, really. I actually thought THEY had wiped him out when the dimensional portal opened twenty years ago. Instead, he was busy playing house with weak humans. I have to wonder if his cowardice is an insult not only to his rank, but to all of us."

Arcus gripped his own throat, desperately fighting to adapt to the sudden change in atmospheric pressure and oxygen density.

In the human world, the air was rich and steady; here, in the heavy, thick atmosphere of the Monsterverse, simply breathing was a constant struggle for survival.

Worse still was the Emperor's gaze.

It pressed down on Arcus with such crushing intensity that a part of him wished he could just snap his own neck, and use Death as a leverage to escape the room.

A heavy, suffocating silence filled the hall.

It wasn't a calming quiet. It was the calculated silence of an apex predator weighing the exact value—or waste—of a broken prey item.

Finally, Malakor exhaled.

It wasn't a roar of fury, rather it was a sigh of profound, chilling disappointment—a reaction far more terrifying than rage from a ruler like him.

Za took a deliberate, cautious step back, distancing himself from whatever fallout might or never come.

"Arcus," Malakor breathed.

The Monster Emperor's voice was steady in measured calmness, with a dense, sub-zero weight that left Arcus shivering despite the absence of a chilling atmosphere.

"Yes! My Lord," Arcus choked out, keeping his forehead pressed firmly against the stone.

Another deliberate pause stretched out before Malakor spoke again:

"You've disappointed me in ways I didn't think possible. I had high hopes for you—more than high hopes. I genuinely saw you as a warrior with the potential to scale the highest peaks, especially given your obsession with becoming the strongest."

Malakor leaned forward slightly, letting the words sink in:

"If I had to guess your path, I honestly believed you would eventually challenge Zagaroth for his position. I looked forward to it. Until you abandoned the greatness of the Monsterverse to wallow among mortals. How should I phrase this so it doesn't sound too painful for your hearing? Yes... It is simply pathetic. So sad to see one of my finest fighters reduced to nothing. Zagaroth, how would you term it?"

Without missing a second, Za said. "A milquetoast, My Lord."

"Precisely. A milquetoast," Malakor replied, his tone devoid of any warmth.

It sounded less like a reprimand and more like the ticking timer of a bomb ready to detonate.

Arcus stayed silent, biting his tongue until blood filled his mouth.

His thought:

'This is why I left. This is why I never wanted to return to this suffocating cesspool!'

"The only reason I haven't crushed you into paste right here on the spot," Malakor continued smoothly, "It's because THEY have requested a change. They demand strong fighters for the upcoming entry, but the slots are limited."

Arcus's heart hammered against his ribs. He wanted to ask—he desperately needed to know what 'THEY' meant—but common sense screamed at him to remain silent. You did not question the Emperor when he was in the mood to execute.

"It may interest you to know, Arcus," Malakor added, "that it was Zagaroth who brought a chance that you might be alive to my attention."

Arcus swallowed hard, a bitter taste rising in his throat.

"...And because it was Zagaroth who found you—a traitorous stray who abandoned his duty—he will personally ensure you claw your way back to the fighter you were meant to be."

Arcus's pupils dilated in pure horror.

"Though," Malakor finished, turning his gaze away with finality, "I will deal with you personally when the time comes. For now, I prefer Zagaroth to break you first. So stand up, Arcus, my dedicated warrior, and face your punishment like someone who claims to possess a warrior's pride."

Slowly, legs shaking and cold sweat trailing down his face, Arcus dragged himself to his feet.

Beside him, Za stepped close and threw a heavy, mocking arm around Arcus's shoulder. "Emperor Malakor, the pleasure is entirely mine. Five months is a short window, but I'll make sure Arcus is properly whipped into shape for the ZZE."

Malakor offered a single, dismissive nod and closed his eyes.

'I am a fool,' Arcus thought, staring at the floor with cold dread pooling in his stomach. 'To be trained by Zagaroth is a slow death sentence. But that is the law of the weak in the Monsterverse. You don't get a voice. You just dig your own grave, nod, and lie in it.'

Za tightened his grip on Arcus's shoulder. "So... shall we begin?"