The Silent Deity: Saiki Kusuo in Tensura

The skies over the Cardinal World slowly began to clear. The last remnants of the angels had vanished—disintegrated into light, dust, and echoes. No cities were damaged. No innocents harmed. It was almost as if time had rewound to the peaceful moments before the chaos began. Almost.

Rudra stood atop a mountain ridge near the borders of the Eastern Empire, with Velgrynd by his side. The golden shimmer of his armor was stained and dulled with exhaustion, and his once fiery eyes had lost their sharpness. Now, they simply stared into the vast sky, quiet and unreadable.

Velgrynd, hovering in the air beside him, folded her arms. Her scarlet hair flowed like flame in the breeze, her eyes focused on the distant horizon where faint traces of the earlier battle lingered like distant thunderclouds.

They both had watched everything—from the moment Veldora's generals tore through the summoned angels, to the unexpected interference of Saiki, and finally the quiet return of peace.

Rudra swallowed, his throat dry. "I didn't expect... that," he muttered.

Velgrynd didn't turn to him. "No, you didn't," she said coldly. "But you should have."

He flinched at her tone. He wasn't used to hearing her like that.

Velgrynd exhaled sharply, as she lowered herself to the ground beside him. "Rudra, do you even understand what just happened?" she asked, her voice softer now, but with a tight edge. "Even after summoning thousands of angels, after triggering one of the most powerful protocols this world has ever seen... you still failed."

Rudra's eyes lowered. "I..."

She stepped in front of him, her expression stern, eyes locked onto his. "You saw it for yourself. Veldora didn't even lift a finger. His generals handled the entire war—they crushed your entire army of divine beings like it was a warm-up session. And not a single piece of infrastructure was damaged. No towns burned, no lives lost. Nothing."

The weight of her words crashed down on Rudra like a landslide.

"And still," she added, stepping even closer, "you're lucky. Because despite everything you did—despite provoking him, attacking his people, violating the Storm Kingdom peace—Veldora hasn't retaliated yet. But Rudra... what if he decides to?" Her voice shook now, just a little. "What if next time he comes for the Empire? For you?"

Rudra looked away, jaw clenched. He felt like a child being scolded. Not by a general. Not by an enemy. But by someone who had always been by his side. Someone who believed in him.

Velgrynd's eyes softened. "I'm not asking you this as the Flame Dragon. I'm asking you as someone who has been by your side since the beginning... Do you want to die because of your ego and pride? Do you want to sacrifice the entire Eastern Empire—your people, your dream—

because you were too blinded by your obsession with Veldora?"

The question hit Rudra harder than any blow he had taken in battle.

He thought about the people in his Empire—the children playing in the courtyards of the palace, the soldiers who would follow his orders without question, the citizens who believed in the ideals he preached. He had wanted to unify the world under peace, to end war through power. But now... he had nearly caused the destruction of everything he built.

Velgrynd continued, her voice quieter now. " So think, Rudra. What do you truly want?"

There was a long silence.

The wind whispered through the trees. Far below the mountain, life was beginning to move again. Birds chirped. Clouds parted. Peace returned.

Then Rudra finally looked up at her, his voice low, raw. "I'm sorry."

Velgrynd blinked.

"I'm sorry I made you worry," he continued. "Sorry I dragged the world into this... and sorry that I let my pride take control. I knew something was influencing me, but I let it happen. I thought... I thought I was doing what was necessary. But I was wrong."

His eyes glistened now—not tears, but a heavy weight lifted from within. "You were right, Velgrynd. I lost sight of what mattered. I became so obsessed with defeating Veldora, I forgot why I started all of this in the first place."

She didn't say anything at first. Just stared at him. Then she stepped forward and put a hand on his shoulder.

"I know," she said gently. "But it's not too late."

Rudra nodded. "Then I'll fix it. Somehow."

Velgrynd smiled for the first time in a long while. "Good. That's the Rudra I remember."

As the sun finally broke through the last of the clouds, bathing the land in gold, Rudra stood taller. Not as a conqueror. Not as a god.

But as a man ready to make things right.

The sky above the Storm Kingdom was calm now. No more black wings casting shadows. No more golden lights ripping the skies open. Peace had returned—but beneath the quiet, there was a roar of pride.

In the heart of the Storm Kingdom, the central plaza echoed with the soft taps of armored boots approaching. The ground still bore faint marks from when the portals opened, but the stone was whole. Untouched. The people, however, were still in the underground shelters…waiting.

At the center of the plaza, the towering figure of King Veldora, ruler of the Storm Kingdom, stood proudly. His cape billowed like a storm cloud, and his arms were crossed as if posing for a dramatic painting. His violet eyes glimmered with excitement and amusement, and he couldn't help but smirk as he saw his elite forces approach.

From the shadows and corners of the city, they arrived.

Benimaru walked at the front—his crimson hair swaying in the breeze, his eyes calm and focused. Behind him came Shion, still radiating her battle aura, grinning like she could take on a hundred more angels if they dared to return.

Hakuro, the seasoned warrior, moved with silence and grace. Geld strode with pride, still carrying the scent of battle. Souei appeared as if from thin air, his presence as sharp and quiet as always. And behind them were the Transcendent Demons—Diablo, Testarossa, Ultima, and Carrera, each looking perfectly composed, even elegant, after wiping out legions of divine beings.

The moment they stepped into the plaza, they all dropped to one knee.

"Lord Veldora," they said in unison, their voices firm and proud, "The mission has been accomplished. All the angels have been destroyed. And not a single country has suffered any damage."

Veldora's smirk widened. He rested his hands on his hips and let out a theatrical laugh—his voice booming like thunder across the stone streets.

"Excellent!" he roared, still speaking in a deep, dramatic tone like he was playing an overpowered overlord from an anime. "You all performed admirably. Truly…my loyal knights of the storm! Tonight, we celebrate your glorious victory! But first—" he pointed to the city gates and then toward the mountain ranges where the shelters were hidden, "Let us return our people to their homes. Let them breathe the open air again. Let joy return to the hearts of the Storm Kingdom!"

"Yes, my Lord!" they all shouted, their voices echoing across the city.

Immediately, the generals scattered, each leading groups of soldiers to the underground shelters. The massive stone gates were opened, and soon, citizens began pouring out—cautiously at first, blinking at the sunlight.

Then came the cheers.

Children ran through the streets again. Mothers wept tears of relief. Fathers embraced their families. Elderly folk looked around, marveling at how untouched their city remained. The people saw their king high above them on the steps of the plaza, his cape catching the wind, and they cheered louder.

"Long live King Veldora!"

"The Storm Kingdom stands eternal!"

"We are saved!"

Veldora waved like a celebrity, soaking in the adoration.

As the reunions continued and the plaza filled with life, Veldora turned and began walking toward the towering citadel at the center of the capital. His footsteps echoed through the throne corridor, each one measured, as if marking history with every step.

Inside the throne room, the massive obsidian throne awaited. The room was dark, cold, but not uninviting—it radiated strength. From here, Veldora ruled not just as a Dragon, but as a King.

He sat down slowly, resting his elbow on the armrest and putting a thoughtful hand under his chin.

"Now," he said to himself, "it's time to let the world know."

He waved his hand, and magical holographic communication screens flared to life in front of him—each one glowing with the crest of a different nation.

One showed the royal sigil of Dwargon—the mountain kingdom of dwarves.

Another showed the golden lion of Sarion.

Then Blumund, Raja, Coleus, and even some smaller neutral states he had established good relations with.

He opened all the channels at once and began to speak, his voice calm, but commanding.

"To all my allies across the Cardinal World, this is King Veldora of the Storm Kingdom." He spoke with regal confidence. "The threat of the Angelic Invasion has been eliminated. My forces neutralized all targets with precision and honor. The Storm Kingdom stands untouched, and we ensured the safety of all realms."

He paused, his tone softening slightly.

"We thank you for your patience during this global threat. Our people are safe. The skies are clear once again. Please, return to your daily lives without fear. The world is secure."

Then, with a smirk: "Oh, and to those who doubted the strength of the Storm Kingdom… I trust this has been a convincing demonstration."

He ended the messages, leaning back in his throne.

Behind him, one of the guards asked carefully, "Shall we begin preparations for the feast, Your Majesty?"

Veldora looked at him, smiled, and stood up with a dramatic flourish.

"Yes! A feast worthy of legends! Tonight, we honor the warriors who protected the world!"

The night would be long. The food would be endless. The joy would be real.

But for now, King Veldora—the Dragon of Storm, the Savior of Nations—smiled silently, knowing he had done right by his people.

And the world… remembered his name.