Satria let out a low whistle as he took in the sight of Crom's voluptuous, sweat-slicked body sprawled across his bed. Her chest heaved with each ragged breath, breasts jiggling enticingly with every pulse. The musky scent of sex hung heavy in the air, mingling with the sweet aroma of her arousal.
"S-Stop! Let me rest for a second."
"Nope~ If I'm not wrong... You are the one who wants to teach me about sex, right? I thought you had a lot of experience, Crom. Where is that confidence now?" Satria grinned.
"That's true but it's when I became a... Ah~! Please... Be gentle... And do it slower~ It's my first time~!" She never knew being a girl felt so good. 'This is sex, too amazing! It feels so good! I like this~ I love it~ It's different when I do it with all these bitches. Why has no one ever told me that sex as a woman is this Amazing?!'
Satria pinned her against the corner of his bed, hovering over her as he placed a sweet kiss all over her body.
"Look at me, My dear Crom." Satria says while staring at her. "Don't fucking close your eyes, tell me... Who do you belong to now?"
"I-I belong to you, My Emperor. I swear to put my loyalty to you forever, Only you... The one who can satisfy and love me like this." Crom whispered, Satria aura now very different than usual. It makes her want to be dominated by him.
Satria couldn't help but smirk, he can feel her pussy is tightening now. "Don't be shy, let me hear your moan." His hands were roaming around the Crom chest.
"Yes, oh GOD! I'm really going to get addicted by... Ah~ I can't hold this anymore!!!"
"Together?"
"Yes... Faster! Faster!!!"
Satria increased his vibration speed by using the speed force and she felt something incredible, she had never felt anything this crazy in her life.
"W-What is this? Wait, Wait!!! Ahhhh~! You... You're going to break me if you keep thrusting me like... This~! I..."
"Cummings!!!"
Satria cumming inside her, he groans while falling on top of her bountiful boobs.
"Wow!" Crom repeated. "No wonder they're crazy in love with you, you're a Beast in Sex! You even surpass my records~ It's not a mistake to pledge myself to you, dear."
"I don't know if I should be proud or what with that comparison." Satria leaned forward to capture one pert nipple between his lips, suckling gently before grazing it with his teeth. He could feel Crom shudder beneath him, her back arching off the bed in response. "Mmm... You taste so good,"
"You should be proud, dear." Crom patted her mate's head, perhaps it was the feeling of having a baby. "You really like breasts, huh? You drank so much but I don't mind, please enjoy my milk to your heart's content."
"Crom... My Love."
"Yes~?"
"Not enough, one more?"
"You... You're kidding right? Wait... Ahhhh~!!!"
•
"Sorry, I got a little carried away. It's your fault too for tempting me with your beautiful body." Satria smiling sheepishly, trying to defuse the tension.
Crom raised an eyebrow, her tone almost a growl. "One more, isn't it? And what about me? I can't even walk properly now, you have to take responsibility."
"Alright, alright, you're right. How can I make up for it, my adorable Evil Dragon?" Satria smiled at her warmly.
"A massage. Right now. And don't think you're getting away with just a light one-I expect you to put in as much effort as you did with me last night." Crom speaks in a low, commanding tone.
"As you wish, my fearsome lady. I'll give you the best massage you've ever had. Just try not to bite me if I get the wrong spot!" Satria grinning, rolling up his sleeves.
•
Satria led the way, followed closely by Crom, the Evil Dragon, who—for once—looked positively radiant. A rare, almost contented glow softened her usually fierce expression.
The moment she took her seat at the table, their gathered friends exchanged knowing glances and mischievous grins.
"Wow! You're practically glowing today," Esdeath teased, a playful smirk on her lips. "Did something good happen?"
Crom cleared her throat, crossing her arms in a defensive posture. "Oh, it's nothing. Just… had a relaxing treatment. I could say the same about you two."
Esdeath chuckled, raising an eyebrow. "Nothing special, huh? Then why are you looking at Satria like he's some kind of miracle worker?"
"You have no idea~" Crom sighed, her attempt at indifference failing as a small, satisfied smile betrayed her. "It's no exaggeration to say his hands are a heavenly touch."
"Oh?" Esdeath's smirk widened. "That sounds amazing, but don't forget—our fox isn't a slouch either, especially when he..."
"Stop!" Artoria, the Lion King, interjected with a strict tone, clearly trying to shut down whatever was coming next.
"Hahaha! You're no fun, Lion King. Though, I recall you being the most aggressive last night." Esdeath winked.
Artoria turned red instantly. "Shut up!" she snapped, stabbing at her food in embarrassment.
As their playful banter continued, two young women sitting nearby couldn't help but overhear. Their faces gradually turned a deep shade of pink, and they kept stealing glances at the table, clearly flustered by the suggestive conversation.
Jeanne, sitting beside Satria, leaned closer and whispered, her eyes wide and innocent.
"Master… why are some of you turning red? I suppose it must be some special kind of humor?"
Satria had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. He leaned in and whispered back, "Oh, it's nothing, really. Just… silly talk between friends."
He barely managed to keep a straight face. Poor Jeanne had no idea what was actually being discussed.
Before the teasing could escalate further, a polite, cheerful voice from maid cat-girl suddenly filled the room.
"Greetings, everyone! I am Chef-Bot 03, your personal chef and dining attendant for this morning."
Gudako's eyes widened in astonishment. "Whoa! Satria-kun, you have a robot?!"
Satria nodded. "Yep! Built it myself. It helps keep this place clean and does more than just cooking."
"Affirmative," Chef-Bot responded smoothly.
Another Chef-Bot gracefully wheeled over a cart, revealing an impressive spread of breakfast dishes.
"This morning, we've prepared a light and energizing menu to start your day off right. We have:
Fluffy pancakes with apple syrup
Scrambled eggs
Steamed white rice and fried rice
Sausage Party
Roasted duck
Fresh fruit
A selection of juices, tea, and coffee
Warm pastries for dessert
Enjoy your breakfast! Should you need anything else, I am here to serve."
The room went silent for a second as everyone took in the delicious scent of the lavish meal.
Then—
Their eyes lit up like children at a festival.
Artoria, already digging in, mumbled through a mouthful of eggs and meat, "Can we take this robot on all our trips from now on? This is too good!"
She turned to Naruto. "Naruto… You should buy one of his products from him."
Naruto sighed. "Satria, you really think of everything… But you've heard the cost of this thing in the Group Chat, right? This isn't something you just buy on a whim."
Jeanne took a delicate bite of her pancake. Her eyes widened in delight.
"This is incredible!" She turned to Satria with pure admiration. "Master, you're an amazing person to own all of this!"
"Ehehe~ I'm starving!" Crom suddenly leaned over and kissed Satria's cheek before happily digging into her meal. "Dear, this has to be the best trip ever!"
Across the table, Mash observed everything with a thoughtful expression.
Finally, she spoke. "You're not from this world, are you?"
Silence.
Satria simply shrugged, taking another bite of his breakfast. "Who knows?"
And with that, he continued enjoying his meal, completely ignoring her suspicious gaze.
•
After finalizing their plan to confront Jeanne Alter's forces, the Chaldea team returned to the dense forests of France, ready for battle.
As they moved through the undergrowth, General Esdeath's sharp eyes caught sight of something unusual—a metallic figure standing motionless in the clearing ahead.
She narrowed her gaze. "What's that droid?"
Satria cleared his throat, trying to gauge her reaction. "What you see before you is the latest model, General. Fully autonomous—requires no food, no water, no rest. It can operate under extreme conditions, from desert heat to arctic cold, without losing efficiency."
Esdeath's eyes glinted with intrigue. Her calculating mind instantly recognized its potential.
"Interesting," she mused. "What's the asking price?" Her voice was as calm and cold as steel.
Satria hesitated for a moment before answering. "It's not cheap. One of these models could fund nearly a hundred human soldiers for a year."
Esdeath crossed her arms, unfazed. "Humans need supplies, rest, and… often lack precision on the battlefield. A hundred men don't compare to a soldier that never tires."
Satria sighed inwardly. Of course, she saw it as a weapon.
"I'm sorry," he said, his tone firm. "I didn't create this droid for war."
That was only half true. He did have a combat-ready version hidden away, but now wasn't the right time to unveil it.
Esdeath frowned, clearly disappointed. "What a waste."
Still, a glint of determination flashed in her eyes. I might be able to purchase a sample and modify it with the help of the science department.
"We'll discuss this again later," she said with a knowing smirk before turning away.
Satria sighed. He had dodged her interest—for now.
Suddenly, a voice echoed in his mind.
Darkest, his dark side, spoke from a faraway land where he was already building a mechanized army.
"The Golden Army. An indestructible force of 2000 mechanized soldiers, waiting for the perfect moment to be unleashed."
Satria stiffened, his grip tightening.
"With our army, power, and technology, we could launch a Blitzkrieg on the Cardinal Worlds—strike before they even realize the situation. Their defenses will crumble, their supply lines cut off, and their leaders encircled before they can react."
The tactical brilliance was undeniable.
But Satria exhaled slowly. '…They won't approve of this.'
He could already see the faces of those who would oppose such a move—Rimuru, Fran, Koneko, and Jeanne. They believed in peace, not conquest.
"You mean we should wait for them to attack us first? Are you stupid?!" Darkest's voice snarled.
"Is there no other way?"
Darkest chuckled darkly.
"Oh, there is."
Satria felt a chill crawl down his spine.
"We can play the hero role, if that's what you want."
'Play hero?'
"A bio-plague."
The words hit him like a punch to the gut.
"A virus designed to disable regeneration and healing abilities. Slowly corrupts its victims. Excruciating pain. Hallucinations. Madness. Within days, entire nations will fall into chaos, their people turning on each other in despair.""
Satria's breath hitched.
"But there's one interesting twist."
A sinister smirk echoed in the tone of Darkest's voice.
"I hold the only cure. But it won't be free. Those who want salvation must pledge allegiance to us. They must submit completely."
Satria felt nausea rise in his chest.
"Their leaders will watch their people rot, their own power crumbling before their eyes. They will lose their will to fight—even succumb to madness. And that, is when we step in… As saviors."
The calculated cruelty behind the plan sickened him.
"Listen." His voice was low, but laced with anger. "I AM NOT THOSE MAN! I AM Satria."
Darkest sighed in disappointment.
"You're too soft. You talk about protecting our family, but what do you think true unity requires?
Sometimes… the greatest peace comes at the cost of the greatest sacrifice."
Satria closed his eyes, his heart pounding.
A long silence.
"…Think about it."
And then—
The connection cut off.
Dawn knew his master well.
The way Satria's shoulders drooped, his eyes gazing blankly at the sky, told him everything.
Without hesitation, the massive beast nudged his head against Satria's arm, his warm golden fur brushing against him. He tilted his head, looking up at his master with soft, understanding eyes—as if silently saying:
"I'm here for you."
A sigh escaped Satria's lips, but he reached down, gently stroking Dawn's fur. The soft warmth brought a small measure of comfort.
But Dawn wasn't done.
After a moment, he nudged Satria's hand again, then—without warning—flopped onto his back, wiggling around wildly, kicking his legs in the air in the silliest way possible.
Satria blinked, then let out a chuckle despite himself.
"You big goof," he muttered, rubbing Dawn's belly.
Before the moment could last any longer—
"We need to move!"
Mash's voice cut through the brief peace like a blade.
She hurried toward them, urgency in her expression. "Reports indicate another city is under attack. Jeanne Alter's dragon army is already laying waste to everything!"
"Hold on, everyone," Naruto stepped forward, forming a shimmering portal in midair. "This will get us there in a flash!"
The team rushed through.
A heartbeat later, they arrived at the outskirts of the city—only to be met with chaos.
Flames raged, consuming buildings. Dragon scales littered the ground. The screams of fleeing citizens echoed in the air. And at the center of it all—
Jeanne Alter.
She stood amidst the destruction, her dark aura pulsing like a living storm, her cold, unfeeling gaze locking onto them.
A slow, mocking smile curled at her lips.
"Well, well…" she sneered. "Look who decided to grace us with their presence—the so-called 'heroes' come to stop my reign of terror."
She laughed, the sound hollow, echoing through the charred ruins.
"Do you really think you can stand in my way?"
Stepping forward, Jeanne clenched her fists, her voice firm yet pleading.
"My other self!" she shouted over the chaos. "I know you're hurting. But this isn't the way to fix it!"
Naruto stood beside her, his hands curled into tight fists.
"We're here to end this, Jeanne Alter." His voice was steady, carrying the weight of experience. "You don't have to keep hurting these people just because you're hurting too."
Jeanne Alter's smile faded. Her eyes flashed with something raw—something dangerous.
"You think you know my pain?" she hissed, her grip tightening on her flag.
She took a step closer, her voice laced with venom.
"The despair? The betrayal?" Her eyes burned. "This world deserves to burn, and I'll be the one to light the flames."
Naruto didn't back down.
"Revenge will give you nothing." His voice was softer now, but no less firm. "I may not know your exact pain, but I know this—you don't have to bear it alone."
Memories flashed in his mind—his own past, his own pain.
"If you keep going down this path, it'll only bring more innocent people suffering. And you? You'll just create another enemy, just like yourself."
A moment of silence hung between them.
Satria, who had been watching, muttered under his breath, 'Anjir… malah adu nasib.'
For some reason, an image of a lonely swing swaying in the wind came to mind—probably with more screen time than Ten-Ten.
A slow, chilling chuckle broke the moment.
"Ahhh, my beloved saint…"
The familiar voice made Satria groan audibly.
"You again?"
Gilles de Rais stepped forward, his twisted grin widening, his hands clutching his staff like a lifeline.
"You still don't understand." His eyes gleamed with unhinged devotion as he looked at Jeanne.
"The world cast you aside!" he hissed. "Why do you fight to save them? Join us, and we'll make them suffer as we suffered!"
Jeanne shook her head.
Her voice was steady, but her eyes burned with something stronger than rage—conviction.
"No, Gilles."
She raised her chin, stepping forward.
"I don't fight for revenge. I fight to protect. That's the difference between us."
She turned to Jeanne Alter, her expression softening.
"And it's the difference between us, Jeanne. You don't have to be alone in this."
For a fleeting second—
Something flickered in Jeanne Alter's gaze.
A moment of hesitation. A crack in the mask of anger and pain.
But just as quickly—she snarled, eyes hardening like steel.
"Enough!"
Her flag snapped in the air, dark energy swirling around her like living flames.
"I am no 'light.' And I don't need your pity!"
With a fierce gesture, she raised her hand—black flames surged forth, licking at the air like cursed shadows.
"If you won't abandon this path…"
Her eyes burned with dark fury.
"Then you'll burn alongside everyone else!"
A crazed laugh rang out from Gilles as he slammed his staff into the ground, summoning phantom soldiers and shadowy beasts that rose from the depths of the void.
"Come, my lady! Let us show these fools the true meaning of despair!"
Naruto stood firm, gripping Ame-no-Tsurugi tightly. The swirling light of his legendary blade illuminated his determined face.
But before he could strike—
A golden flash sliced through the battlefield.
A heartbeat later, the head of Gilles de Rais flew through the air, landing with a sickening thud.
Silence fell.
The world seemed to hold its breath.
Blood dripped from the hand of the one responsible—Satria.
Jeanne Alter stiffened, her eyes wide with shock. She hadn't even sensed him move. One moment, Gilles stood beside her; the next, he was nothing but a lifeless husk.
"W-What? When did he do it?"
Jeanne d'Arc's hands trembled, her gaze flickering between Satria and her fallen former comrade.
"M-Master… why?"
Satria exhaled, tossing Gilles' head aside like garbage, his expression unbothered. The faces around him—friend and foe alike—froze in horror.
A flash of sorrow crossed Jeanne's violet eyes, but Satria's voice was cold and blunt:
"I'm sick of seeing his face. That's the reason." He sighed, lighting a cigarette. "That asshole was beyond help. You weren't going to 'fix' him anyway and he deserved it."
He leaned back against a rock, his smirk faintly mocking.
"Take it easy~ Since I'm a kind-hearted gentleman, I won't interfere in this little fight. So... good luck."
Jeanne Alter clenched her fists, her rage simmering beneath the surface.
"Face us, you coward!" she roared, pointing her flag at him.
Her voice carried across the battlefield, filled with indignation and fury.
"Or are you too afraid to fight us yourself? Do you have no honor?!"
Satria barely glanced at her. He raised an eyebrow and chuckled, his voice dripping with amusement.
"Afraid? Of you?" He gestured lazily in her direction.
"Blah… blah… blah… seriously, Emo-girl, you're barely worth my time." He sighed dramatically. "Who do you think you are? If I wanted you dead, you and your little minions would already be blood stains on the ground."
His golden eyes gleamed as he smirked.
"I'm just giving you a chance to prove you're not a complete waste of time."
Jeanne Alter bristled, her grip on her flag tightening.
One of her subordinates turned toward Jeanne d'Arc and muttered, "Who the hell is this arrogant bastard? Is he really your Master?"
Jeanne d'Arc let out an exasperated sigh, nodding.
"Yes, unfortunately, he is."
Then, with the grace of a saint and the frustration of a babysitter, she grabbed Satria's ear and pulled.
"Ow!" Satria yelped. "What did I do wrong?! I thought I was being helpful!"
The entire team visibly held back laughter. Some even looked like they were praying for Jeanne's success in disciplining him.
Jeanne Alter narrowed her eyes. "Who is he, really?"
Crom's lips curled into a mischievous grin.
"Ahhh~ so you want to know?" She dramatically cleared her throat and gestured toward Satria.
"Behold! The one and only Satria—the Golden Emperor, the Doragon Tamer, and Protector of Vaporeon!"
Satria's eye twitched.
Crom wasn't done.
"A mortal who is capable to defeats Gods, Devils, and Dragons but—" she smirked, leaning in closer to Jeanne Alter, "—spends most of his time lazing around at home!"
She shot Satria a teasing glance.
"And don't be fooled by his fearsome aura—deep inside, he's just a very spoiled puppy who loves to be pampered!"
She placed a hand on her hip, flashing a knowing grin.
"So? Are you trembling in fear yet?"
Satria's face instantly turned crimson.
"Oi!" he hissed, flustered. "You're making me sound like a damn clown!"
Crom only giggled.
"As a good wife, you should be proud of your husband, not humiliate him!" he added, crossing his arms.
Jeanne Alter blinked at the ridiculous exchange before deadpanning: "What the hell am I watching?"
But before she could process any further—
A deep voice cut through the tension.
A dark figure emerged from the destruction, his crimson cloak billowing as he stepped forward. His crimson eyes gleamed with ruthless confidence, and his fanged smirk sent a chill through those who beheld him.
"Ha! Look at this weakling!" the figure sneered, his deep voice cutting through the chaos.
"Someone like you dares to carry the title of Emperor? God Slayer? Dragon Slayer?"
He scoffed, rolling his shoulders, his aura flaring with power.
"You! I challenge you to a duel!" His glare locked onto Satria. "Let's see if you're truly worthy of such grand titles!"
Satria exhaled, tapping the ash from his cigarette before tossing it aside.
"And you are?" he asked, bored but intrigued.
The man stood tall, eyes burning with recognition.
"I am Vlad III, Ruler of Wallachia, but I am more commonly known as Vlad the Impaler."
A flicker of something ancient and cold passed through Satria's scarlet eyes.
His relaxed posture shifted.
"...I never expected to meet you." His voice carried a strange weight, something between resentment and acceptance. "You are the one who brutally slaughtered my brothers and sisters in faith."
For a moment, Vlad was silent. Then—
"Brothers and sisters in faith?" he murmured before his lips curled into a sharp, amused grin.
Then—he laughed.
It started as a chuckle, then grew into full, unrestrained laughter.
"Hahahaha!"
His voice rang across the battlefield.
"I can't believe it! History repeats itself once more!"
He pointed a clawed finger at Satria, his grin widening.
"Another war between Islam and Christianity… and another so-called 'Emperor' standing against me."
He chuckled darkly, shaking his head.
"You… you're another Mehmed, aren't you? Just like him."
Satria's grip tightened on his sword.
"Close Enough." His voice was steady, his gaze unwavering. "My predecessor defeated you in the past—and I shall do so again."
With a single movement, Satria raised Kyōka Suigetsu.
A whisper of wind passed through the battlefield.
The sword hummed, as if awakening from a long slumber.
A subtle, eerie resonance filled the air.
Vlad's smirk didn't fade. Instead, he stepped forward, his presence towering and suffocating.
"You are welcome to try, boy." His voice lowered, turning more dangerous. "Let's see if you're truly worthy of the Emperor's name."
The Chaldea group watched in stunned silence.
They hadn't expected this.
Their mysterious ally—Satria—wasn't just powerful warriors.
He was a believer in God.
For Jeanne d'Arc, this revelation hit the hardest.
Her whole life, she had been raised with the belief that Islam was Christianity's greatest enemy.
Yet here stood her Master, an embodiment of power, loyalty, and—despite his arrogance—honor.
"Master…?" Jeanne whispered, eyes uncertain.
Satria didn't respond. His attention was fully on Vlad.
As Satria grasped Kyōka Suigetsu, something unexpected happened.
A cool breeze swept through the battlefield.
Then—
A voice.
A whisper in his mind.
"I can feel it, Satria. Your spirit is vibrant and filled with potential."
His golden eyes widened.
The sword was… speaking to him?
The voice chuckled softly, its tone filled with curiosity and admiration.
"Unlike my previous wielder, you have a heart that embraces camaraderie, evil, strength, kindness, and humor. It's refreshing… and strange at the same time."
Satria blinked.
"Wait... You can talk?"
A pause.
Then, another chuckle.
"Of course. But you are the first in a long time to truly hear me."
Satria's mind raced.
"Okay, since we're talking, I gotta ask… why didn't things work out with Aizen? I mean, he was strong as hell, right? And why—"
He narrowed his eyes.
"Why didn't he ever unlock your Bankai?"
Kyōka Suigetsu's voice softened, almost… amused.
"Aizen was indeed powerful. But he wielded me with ambition and deception, rather than honor. He sought to control and manipulate, losing sight of what true strength is.
That is why I remained dormant.
I waited for a wielder who could understand me. Aizen never needed a Bankai because he never truly needed me. He only needed an illusion of power."
A brief pause.
Then—
"And, Satria?"
"Yeah?"
"You should probably focus on the enemy in front of you first."
Satria blinked.
Then, he sighed.
"Ah… You're right."
"Let's continue this conversation later."
A suffocating wave of spiritual pressure crashed onto the battlefield.
The very air trembled beneath its weight.
Vlad III tensed. Even as a seasoned warrior and Heroic Spirit, he felt it—a crushing force unlike any other.
His clawed fingers twitched, gripping his spear as he stared at the golden-eyed warrior before him.
Satria stood with an easy confidence, his hand resting on the hilt of his Zanpakutō.
Then, he casually lifted it.
"Hey, could you look at my weapon?"
Vlad blinked.
"Huh?" His gaze flickered to the blade.
It was strange, unlike any sword he had ever seen.
Something about it was… off.
"What's with your weapon?"
Satria smirked, a hint of amusement in his eyes.
"Your reputation precedes you, old man." His tone was smooth, mocking.
"A ruler feared and respected… yet here you stand, at a crossroads of history, uncertain of your path."
He tilted his head slightly, his eyes sharp.
"How tragic."
Vlad's fingers tightened on his spear.
A vein pulsed in his forehead.
"Do not underestimate me, boy." His voice darkened. "I have fought for my people, my ideals. I will not fall to the likes of you without a fight!"
With a roar, he lunged forward—
His spears aimed with deadly precision.
Satria didn't move.
The attack was fast. Lethal. A storm of piercing death.
Yet—
In the blink of an eye—
Satria sidestepped effortlessly.
Vlad's attack missed entirely.
"What?!"
Before Vlad could react, a sharp pain exploded in his chest.
Satria's palm struck like lightning.
The impact sent Vlad skidding backward, his armor dented, a deep ache spreading through his ribs.
"You see, power alone is not enough," Satria said, his voice as smooth as silk.
"The battlefield is ruled by the mind."
Vlad snarled, his eyes burning.
"You and Mehmed are the same. Always pissing me off!"
With a growl, he raised his spear, dark energy crackling around him.
"You may be fast, but I will not be defeated so easily!"
A storm of black spears shot toward Satria—each one charged with lethal intent.
Satria watched them calmly.
"I see…"
He casually dodged a spear, his gaze locked on Vlad.
"For you, these stakes are everything."
Vlad's eyes narrowed.
"What?"
Satria exhaled.
"Your attack. Your defense. Your power. And your fear."
His voice was laced with understanding.
"You built your kingdom with them. You rule with them. You fight with them."
His golden eyes gleamed.
"But in the end… you are a King who desires to rule his land alone."
For a moment—
Vlad paused.
Then, he smirked.
"How amusing."
His crimson eyes gleamed.
"You do not fear facing my country by yourself."
A shadow fell over Satria.
Vlad's smirk widened.
"However… you are already inside my deadly trap."
Satria raised an eyebrow.
"Oh? What kind of tra—"
SHHK!
Pain exploded through his body.
His breath hitched.
Spikes.
Dark, cursed stakes erupted from the ground, piercing him from all sides.
"Guh!"
Blood splattered onto the battlefield.
"Master!"
Jeanne's voice trembled.
She stepped forward, her instincts screaming to help him.
"Satria-kun is—someone, please help him!" Gudako panicked.
Naruto clenched his fists, ready to rush in—
But then—
Satria glanced at them.
His gaze was sharp and commanding.
"Stop."
His voice was firm despite the stakes impaling his flesh.
"This is my fight. Don't interfere."
Naruto hesitated.
Jeanne's fingers trembled.
Vlad chuckled darkly.
"Hahahaha!"
His voice echoed through the battlefield.
"Sorry to disappoint you, boy." He spread his arms, gesturing to the endless stakes surrounding them.
"My Noble Phantasm is the very concept of being skewered."
More stakes erupted, piercing Satria's arms, legs, and torso.
Blood dripped onto the dirt.
Vlad approached slowly, his steps heavy with finality.
"As long as you remain inside my domain, you cannot escape."
He raised his spear, ready to deliver the finishing blow.
"Satria, the Golden Emperor."
His voice was almost gentle now.
"You are a brave boy. Before I send you to your ancestors, tell me…"
His crimson eyes softened, just slightly.
"How old are you? And what kind of kingdom do you seek to build?"
Satria, despite his wounds, smirked.
"I'm 20 years old."
His blood dripped onto the ground, yet his voice remained strong.
"And I want to create a kingdom where no matter the race or religion… people can live together in prosperity. Without conflict."
His eyes burned with defiance.
"Is that too much to ask?"
For the first time—
Vlad III hesitated.
A shadow passed over his face.
Something almost like… sorrow.
"What a shame."
His voice was quiet.
"You have a unique dream."
He let out a slow breath.
"And to think… you carry the title of Emperor at the same age as Mehmed."
His grip on his spear tightened remembering someone he considered as brother and rival.
"The man who conquered the unconquerable Constantinople."
His voice was almost nostalgic.
"At merely twenty-one."
He raised his spear high.
"You have a long road ahead of you…"
His crimson eyes hardened.
"Sadly, you must meet your end here—by my hands."
The sky darkened.
A storm of black spears rose into the air—
And rained down upon Satria.
The battlefield was drowned in blood.
Vlad III exhaled, staring at the fallen warrior.
"Sorry, Fatih."
His voice was quiet, almost melancholic.
"Looks like I'm the one who won this time."
"Shatter—Kyōka Suigetsu."
A sound like breaking glass echoed through the battlefield.
Vlad's eyes widened.
The scene before him fractured—splintering like a broken mirror.
And then—
It was gone.
The stakes.
The blood.
The suffering.
Gone.
Vlad's breath caught in his throat.
Satria stood before him, completely unscathed.
Smiling.
"W-What?!"
Vlad's heart pounded as he staggered backward.
His voice was strained, disbelieving.
"You... Why are you alive?"
Satria's eyes gleamed, calm and unwavering.
"Because, Old Man..."
He raised his hand.
A sudden wave of energy pulsed outward.
Before Vlad could react, luminous chains of light ensnared him—binding his limbs in an intricate web of power.
"Tch!"
Vlad struggled.
The chains tightened.
"What is this?!" he snarled.
Satria stepped forward, his voice smooth, unwavering.
"The end of your rebellion."
Vlad's crimson eyes burned with defiance.
But deep inside—
Doubt crept in.
"I admire your resolve, but you are outmatched, Vlad III."
Satria's voice was unshaken, absolute.
"Everything that happened here was according to my plan."
His blade gleamed in the moonlight.
And then—
A single, decisive slash.
The force of the strike sent a shockwave across the battlefield.
Silence followed.
A heavy, oppressive silence.
Vlad III collapsed, his body aching, the devastating attack still coursing through him like fire.
Yet—
As he lay sprawled on the ground—
His lips curled into a smile.
"Hah… Strong."
His breath was ragged, but his pride remained unshaken.
"You are truly strong, Young Emperor."
Vlad slowly lifted his head.
His crimson eyes met Satria's.
"I have been your enemy, and I wore that title with both pride and sorrow."
His voice was calm, filled with the weight of history.
"I fought for my people. I did what had to be done. To protect them from the enemies surrounding us."
He let out a slow, heavy breath.
"My methods were ruthless. I accepted the title of 'monster.' I embraced the darkness… because I believed it was the only way."
Satria stepped closer.
For the first time—
His gaze softened.
"Yes… Every ruler probably thinks the same as you."
Vlad chuckled—low, bitter, but not without warmth.
"You understand, don't you?"
His voice was quiet now.
"This world forces us to choose between light and shadow. And I—"
His grip on his spear tightened.
"I chose the darkness, knowing the cost."
He lifted his gaze—strong, unyielding, proud.
"I see now… that I was not as alone as I once thought."
His breath grew shallow, but his spirit remained fierce.
"I only have one last request for you, Satria the Golden Emperor."
Satria nodded.
Vlad's grip on his spear remained firm, but his voice—
His voice softened.
"Don't get lost in the dark like I did."
Silence.
Satria's heart tightened.
Then—
Vlad slowly raised his spear one last time.
His posture was regal—unyielding.
A warrior standing against fate.
"I will not be remembered as just a tyrant."
His voice rose.
"But as a king who fought for his domain!"
His final cry echoed through the battlefield.
Then—
His body fell still.
The storm subsided.
The battlefield was quiet.
Yet—
The weight of his presence remained.
Satria gazed at the fallen warrior, his expression unreadable.
Then, solemnly—
He nodded.
"You will be remembered, Vlad."
His voice was steady, but there was an undeniable respect beneath it.
"Your spirit lives on in your fight. We will honor that."
A soft rustle of fabric.
Jeanne stepped forward.
She placed a gentle hand on Satria's shoulder.
"He fought for what he believed in."
Her voice was filled with understanding.
Satria let out a slow breath.
"Yeah."
They stood there for a moment—
Watching.
Honoring.
Though they had been enemies—
They recognized the valor in Vlad's final stand.
And with that—
The legend of Vlad III lived on.
Not just as a tyrant.
But as a king who refused to yield.
Tobecontinued...