The Silent Deity: Saiki Kusuo in Tensura

The sun bathed the Storm Kingdom in a golden hue as the wind swept over its towering walls and bustling streets. The celebration days had long passed, but the air still buzzed with joy and normalcy. Citizens had returned, markets were open, and children once again ran freely through parks and plazas. It was a kingdom restored… but a question hung heavily in the air—what of the Eastern Empire?

The world had been holding its breath for months.

And now, finally, someone decided to speak.

In the royal chambers of the Storm Kingdom, Veldora, seated on a velvet-draped throne, read the sealed message from King Gazel Dwargo of Dwargon. His glowing golden eyes skimmed through the elegant dwarven script.

"A visit, huh?" Veldora muttered, his voice deep and regal. His expression remained unreadable as he handed the letter to Diablo standing beside him.

Velzard, perched gracefully on a nearby cushioned seat, arched a snowy brow. "He's probably coming to ask why we haven't annihilated the Eastern Empire yet."

Veldora chuckled softly, leaning back like a composed chessmaster. "Indeed. They all fear the silence more than the blade itself."

"Shall I prepare the royal guards?" Diablo asked calmly.

"No need," Veldora replied, his voice calm yet commanding, full of composed authority that echoed Ainz Ooal Gown's demeanor. "He's coming as a friend, not a foe. Let him come... and let him see."

Gazel arrived as promised, though he surprised many by bringing only four close retainers rather than his usual royal escort. The carriage pulled into the central courtyard of the Storm Kingdom under light escort, but the formality was warm, not tense.

He was greeted at the main gate by Shion and Souei, who respectfully guided him to the royal palace.

Inside, the throne room gleamed with white marble floors and dark golden banners of the dragon insignia. Veldora sat high upon his throne, flanked by his sister Velzard on his right and Diablo on his left. Behind them, a warm but serious atmosphere filled the room.

As Gazel entered, Veldora raised a hand.

"King Gazel," Veldora said, his voice like thunder wrapped in silk. "It honors me to receive you. Come, sit with us."

The dwarven king bowed lightly and walked toward a beautifully set table just beside the throne. Velvet cushions, carved crystal glasses, and an array of mouthwatering snacks were prepared. Shuna and a few other maids gracefully poured the famous sapphire-leaf tea and brought out soft, buttery pastries.

Gazel tried not to smile—but failed.

"I'll admit," he said, taking the cup, "these treats are always dangerously good."

Velzard smirked. "It's the tea that brings people back. The pastries are just a bonus."

Everyone shared a light chuckle, even Diablo allowing a small smile.

Once the plates had been touched and the drinks poured, Gazel cleared his throat. His tone shifted.

"Veldora. We are allies. And as such, I felt it was necessary to speak to you… directly."

Veldora rested his chin lightly on a gloved hand, his golden eyes glowing gently. "Proceed."

"The world waits for your response to the Eastern Empire," Gazel continued. "They attacked your land with angels—divine-level threats. And yet… you did not retaliate. That silence has frozen every leader. We all fear that, at any moment, the storm will come down."

He paused. "So… will it?"

The room grew quiet. The tension was like a drawn bowstring.

Veldora closed his eyes, then opened them slowly.

"My dear ally," he said with charismatic grace, "true power is not in destruction, but in control. The moment I unleashed my wrath upon the angels, the Eastern Empire already knew their mistake."

Gazel watched him carefully. "But they haven't apologized. Haven't acknowledged the wrong."

"I do not require their apology," Veldora replied smoothly. "They know the blade hovers above their necks. That is enough. Fear… is a greater leash than blood."

Velzard crossed her arms and leaned in slightly. "And let's not forget—they're preparing for war in secret. Every movement they make, we see. They think they can hide behind their walls, but Veldora sees beyond."

Gazel sat back in thought, his cup halfway raised. "Then you… plan to wait?"

"Correct," Veldora said, his voice calm but firm. "A predator need not rush its hunt. When Rudra declared war, he proved he feared me. Why should I validate his fear by acting rashly? Instead… let him boil in silence. Let the world wonder. Let peace remain… fragile."

A long pause.

Then Gazel chuckled lightly and said, "You've changed, Veldora."

Diablo looked to Veldora with admiration. Velzard allowed herself a small, proud smile.

"I have not changed," Veldora said, rising slowly, his black cape flowing behind him like a wave of power. "I have evolved."

The thunder in his voice echoed.

"Tell the world," he said, now standing tall like a god-king, "that the Storm Kingdom does not strike in anger… but in finality. If the Eastern Empire dares again, there will be no retaliation. There will only be extinction."

As the sun began to set and Gazel's entourage prepared to return, he stood outside the palace gates, glancing once more toward the glowing spires of the Storm Kingdom.

Beside him, one of his aides whispered, "Do you believe he will attack one day?"

Gazel shook his head. "I believe… if Rudra is foolish enough to test him again, there won't be a second chance."

And with that, they rode off into the horizon.

Inside the palace, Veldora stood by a grand window, watching the stars.

"Saiki… is right," he whispered to himself. "It is not enough to be powerful. One must rule with purpose."

Velzard looked over her shoulder and smiled.

"Impressive speech, brother."

Veldora turned slightly and smirked. "Naturally."

And Saiki hovering above them looked at Veldora and said "Yare yare"...

The Eastern Empire, once roaring with the might of conquest and echoing with the sounds of military drills, now sat eerily silent. Its capital, Celestia Magna, was under constant high alert. The banners still flew high, but the mood beneath them had shifted — from pride to fear.

The memory of Veldora's overwhelming power and his kingdom's eerie silence since the war haunted everyone, from the lowest foot soldier to the highest general. No retaliation, no message, no warning. It was as though the storm had passed, but the thunder had not spoken its final word. And that was more terrifying than an outright war.

Emperor Rudra sat in his war room, hunched over a table covered with maps and scrolls, most of which had been untouched for weeks. His golden armor lay discarded on the floor beside him, and dark circles under his eyes told of nights spent waiting — for the sky to split open, for the storm to descend.

He hadn't slept in days. Even his most loyal generals had stopped advising him, afraid that one wrong word might trigger a nervous breakdown. The silence was not peace—it was pressure, invisible but suffocating.

One morning, long after the dawn bells had rung and faded, Velgrynd entered the room.

Her steps were deliberate, heels clicking softly across the marble floor, her long red hair glowing like fire in the morning light. She was a force of nature, a dragoness that many still dared not look in the eye. And right now, she looked... tired. Tired of the stalemate. Tired of Rudra's indecision.

She stood by the door, arms crossed, tail flicking once before she finally said, her voice calm but cutting:

"So, Rudra... aren't you going to make amends with my brother?"

The words hit him like a blade to the chest.

Rudra turned to her, eyes slightly wide. His voice was hoarse. "You... want me to apologize? To Veldora?"

Velgrynd stepped closer. "You declared war on him. Summoned angels and sent them to crush his people. You thought he was the same reckless storm dragon from before. But he isn't. You saw that, didn't you?"

Rudra said nothing. She continued.

"It's been months now. And still, no retaliation. Don't you realize how strange that is? How... deliberate?"

He sank into his chair, groaning into his hands. "I don't know what to do. What do I even say? Should I bow? Kneel? Offer gold, lands, what—? I can't read him. That man—no—that dragon is not the same Veldora I mocked before."

Velgrynd's lips tugged into a faint smile. "He has changed. He's matured, more than you know. That's why your silence is making it worse. He's watching, waiting. Every day that passes, he's deciding how much he respects—or disrespects—you."

Rudra looked up. "What do I say?"

She knelt before him—not out of submission, but to look him straight in the eyes.

"You say what you truly feel. You apologize not because you're afraid—but because you recognize that you were wrong. Don't treat this like a political move. My brother doesn't care for politics. He cares for sincerity."

Rudra blinked. "But he's... Veldora. That monster, that ancient storm..."

"Not a monster anymore," she interrupted. "A king. One who's already proven he doesn't need revenge to show his power."

He exhaled deeply. For the first time in a while, the weight on his chest loosened just a little.

"Will you be with me?"

Velgrynd nodded, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Every step of the way."

There was silence again, but it was different. Not the silence of dread—but the calm before action. Rudra stood slowly and walked to the balcony. He looked out at his empire — his people training, standing guard, wondering what would happen next.

"I suppose it's time to stop wondering... and start fixing."

Velgrynd joined him at the railing. "It's the only way forward."

Somewhere far beyond the horizon, where the skies were calm and the winds spoke only in whispers, the Storm King waited.