Chapter 55: Ch.55 Meeting Athlor, the God-King of Athlador.
Earth; the long forgotten place that Rathlore had come from, in his first life as James Arcoin. While Athlor, who now stood as a pillar of one of the great two empire's that emerged from the great beginning. Called Athlador, which was named after himself, his great empire was built upon the ruins that remained of his dead servant, Julius Farlily's own kingdom, created after eighteen thousand years had passed after James' death.
But, for his own people, they were made up of the others that had come with him from 'heaven', thus making his own kingdom more greater in power than his own enemy! But of course, many years had passed, his sworn enemy forgotten while he enjoyed himself with fights, wars, and lovemaking.
Now, three hundred millennia later, he sat on his throne. Suddenly, his whole body shivered, but only for a second; for a great eruption of a demonic force disturbed his own land, causing all below himself to tremble in terror, for what was this force that terrified them so?
Their golden sky turned black with violet streaks of thunder as it suddenly disappeared, leaving no trace of it's exsistance. With fire in his eyes, Athlor then sent ten of his men to discover what that dreadful aura that had suddenly appeared might have caused, for although this demon aura truly intrested him, he dismissed it as foul play.
For a God-King like himself, what could harm him? For he now stood at the pinnacle of the cultivation of this world, along with Harold.
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Standing before his own grandfather, Rathlore smiled as a sword appeared and was thrust into his own grandfather's neck, and with a satisfying slap, sent Draycus' own head flying. For what truly mattered was his own grandfather's artifacts, that he had other plans for.
After taking all that intrested him, he looked around him, for his own women where now nowhere to be seen, while the sky was a golden amber instead of blue; Confusion layed within him as he then began to float above ground, heading towards the nearest city from which ten people were heading from.
Meeting them, he bowed, smiling as he then looked them over. Indeed, they all held powerful titles, all dressed in a dark red robes and all wearing crimson masks.
"Who are you sir?" One of them asked hauntingly, as he held himself in superiority to this mere man dressed in black.
Rathore smiled, as with a mere flick of his two fingers, said nothing. Hearing a whistle of wind, all ten of them frowned, still waiting for this mysterious man to answer. But to their surprise, the one who had talked bursted, sending blood everywhere. Fear filled their faces behind their own masks, as they all turned their spears towards Rathlore.
"How dare you kill our King Athlor's own guardsmen!" Another one screamed, as Rathlore smiled as silence filled the air.
But with widened eyes, they all dropped their weapons and covered their heads, tumbling onto the ground.
"I am Rathlore; known as the Black King, God of Death itself. Destroyer of all four realms of hell, Kashiren's own descendant: l demanded yourselves to be nothing more but cultivation for myself, for what do your own pathetic lives matter to mine own?" He declared telipathicly, as their bodies all began to burst as the first, their own cultivation and blood flowing into Rathlore who simply stood watching the gorey scene.
For after three hundred millennia and eighteen hundred years, he truly demanded a grand entrance for himself! For who truly even remembered their last life, and cheated death as well?
Entering the grand city of Athlor, he found himself surrounded by gods and goddesses; as for humans, what could be seen, were merely servants or 'animals', if it could be said, for they walked on their arms and legs, dressed in apparel that was meant for gods!
Dismissing that, he headed towards the grand castle that stood towering over the city, which coming closer upon it found that it actually floated above it! Upon one gigantic ring of sorcery stood seven others of a smaller size, above it, holding the two thousand mile castle. To after looking at it, he walked away, heading to a blue tower that stood half the hight of the castle.
This building was the library of Athlador, books that were rewritten by the gods that now dwelt among the earth, correcting the many errors that the humans had written without knowing. For what what was a human's knowledge compared to a god?
Since he had been gone for so long, what better of a place to learn of what happened than a library? Whisking past the two lower levels of the tower which was only for humans, his eyes widened at the sight of books that layered the wall.
Reading the material that he had picked out, he found that his previous self was compared as a evil monarch; and reading further, found that Athlor had after a long battle, finally killed him, thus freeing the humans of this ungodly creature while freeing the gods from above to bless all mankind. Truly, Athlor made himself a victorious god to be worshipped by all.
Closing his own eyes, Rathlore smiled as he then rose from his chair. "Come." He declared, as from the shadows a red crimson robed guard stood, with a black mask.
"So you finally notice me." The man said as he then smiled and bowed towards this mysterious man before him. "My name is Elias, King Athlor's head guard. Seeing that you have killed my seven low-gods with such ease, I would rather not duel with a creature such as yourself. Your own status I can not see, although you reek of hell. But enough with my thoughts, for my King would like to see yourself."
Thus, they both left the blue tower and entered the castle, which shone in all its magnificent glorious form, that awed all gods below their own God-king, Athlor. Past glorious decorated gardens, statues, and other art that drew attention, Rathlore truly approved of the lavish attention to detail as he walked past and to the throne room.
The gigantic doors opening, the two men walked towards the king, who sat in his royal crimson robes that adorned his own body, even more red than his own skin. His winter white hair shone without a crown, for he had a purple halo around his own head. With his own head guard bowing to him, he purely dismissed him as his own eyes found themselves drawn to a mysterious character, dressed in black robes which he truly knew, was from hell.
Not that it truly mystified this person even more, but he also did not bow before him. This truly was interesting, yes indeed; for who had the galls to not bow before him, the God-king? Raising an eyebrow, he then smiled.
"Greetings, stranger. Who, may I ask, are you?" He asked as his voice echoed around the room.
"They call me ... Rathlore. As for the massive aura that was displayed and possibly caused your majesty to take notice of, I have killed a demon king that had taken three realms of hell." Rathlore answered as he stood before Athlor.
To which Athlor's eyes gleamed with suprise, for no king could truly kill the others, as it was told. With interest, he again found himself inspecting Rathlore. " So you have indeed killed him? Any...." His voice trailed off when what should appear but Draycus Arcoin's face in Rathlore's own hands!
Coughing in surprise, His eyes widened as the man who had disgraced his own family had his own head, swinging back and forth continuously by his hair that Rathlore held!
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