The Silent Deity: Saiki Kusuo in Tensura

The skies above the Storm Kingdom were unusually serene, as if the heavens themselves acknowledged the shifting tides of fate that were slowly unraveling across the world. Time had passed, yet the tension remained—the world held its breath, waiting for the dragon to roar. But that roar never came.

And in the shadows of this peace, Saiki Kusuo chewed thoughtfully on his favorite coffee jelly, floating unseen through the grand corridors of Veldora's opulent palace. His hands stuffed in his pockets, expression perpetually indifferent, he watched the threads of destiny with an almost bored air.

Only two beings knew he was there: Veldora, the Supreme Dragon King turned King of the Storm Kingdom, and Testarossa, one of the transcendent demons Veldora had named. Their senses had evolved far beyond the mortal coil—and only because Saiki has allowed it.

Far to the north in the frozen tundra of the Ice Continent, Guy Crimson, the strongest demon lord, was in a frenzy—though no one would dare call it that to his face.

He stood atop a glacial pillar that cracked under the sheer weight of his demonic energy, spinning crimson magic circles in the air around him. Each was intricately inscribed with chaotic formulas, his hair whipping in the wind as he roared out spells, testing combinations, rewriting runes mid-cast, destroying the field, and rebuilding it again.

"Why won't it work!?" Guy barked, his fingers sparking with violet-black energy. "What am I missing?!"

Though he would never admit it, Guy was trying to evolve—to ascend like Diablo, Testarossa, Carrera, and Ultima had. All had reached the peak of Transcendence after receiving names from Veldora.

But therein lay the problem.

He clenched his fist. "I will not bow. I refuse."

To ask Veldora for a name would be to submit, and though Guy respected the Storm King's strength—even acknowledged him as his superior—it would shatter his pride. And for Guy Crimson, pride was the one thing more sacred than power.

Back in the palace, Veldora lounged comfortably in one of his many chamber rooms, a setting that looked more like a legendary war room mixed with a noble's drawing room. Lavish, filled with maps etched in enchanted silver, flickering candles that never burned out, and walls lined with shimmering blue crystal.

He sat at the head of the long obsidian table, arms crossed dramatically over his armored chest like Ainz Ooal Gown would, his throne-like chair swirling with divine energy.

Around him sat a host of formidable allies:

Velzard, lounging with elegance and sipping cold tea, eyes closed but listening intently.

Diablo, standing behind Veldora like a black flame, his smile thin, eyes glowing with quiet amusement.

Benimaru, arms folded, ever vigilant.

Souei, silent in the shadows, observing every movement in the room.

Shion, leaning forward on the table with a confident smirk, her sword resting against her chair.

Gobta, who was trying to look serious… and failing, as he nervously munched on snacks.

Ultima, Testarossa, and Carrera stood near the pillars, their expressions unreadable but radiating power.

Suddenly, the doors opened with a soft creak.

A messenger bowed low before entering, clearly feeling the pressure in the air. "My Lord Veldora, an emissary from the Eastern Empire has arrived. He bears a message from Emperor Rudra."

Veldora opened one glowing golden eye and spoke in a deep, resonant voice, full of theatrical flair.

"Bring forth the words of the one who dances with guilt but speaks with silence."

The room chuckled softly—only Saiki didn't react, still munching on his jelly, watching from behind a pillar. Testarossa subtly glanced at him, then back at the table with a ghost of a smirk.

The messenger continued, "The Emperor Rudra humbly wishes to inform Your Majesty that he intends to visit the Storm Kingdom in one week's time to speak with you directly."

Benimaru raised an eyebrow. "Now he wants to talk, after months of hiding behind walls?"

Gobta whispered, "Maybe he finally realized Veldora-sama was being merciful..."

Shion leaned toward Veldora. "Want me to greet him at the border, Lord Veldora? With a few fireballs?"

Velzard opened her eyes, elegant and composed. "Let him come. My brother has shown wisdom by not retaliating. Let's see if Rudra has any of his own."

Veldora raised a gauntleted hand, silencing the chatter.

"Let it be known—Storm Kingdom welcomes him. But let the Emperor know... there is no guarantee what he leaves with."

Diablo smiled. "You're going to enjoy this, aren't you?"

Veldora gave a quiet chuckle, standing slowly, his cape fluttering with supernatural weight. He looked toward the window, out at the vast kingdom he now ruled, its people thriving, its enemies confused.

"Let the world keep guessing," he murmured. "And let them come to me."

From behind the pillar, Saiki rolled his eyes, sighing.

"Yare yare… this is getting too dramatic."

And yet… he kept watching. Because even he couldn't deny it—this storm wasn't over. It was just gathering.

Hours later In the Eastern Empire....

The grand throne room of the Eastern Empire was dead silent.

Golden curtains swayed ever so slightly from the warm breeze slipping through the high arched windows. Columns of polished obsidian lined the room like quiet sentinels. Rudra sat upon his throne, his face tight with thought, eyes fixed on the heavy doors ahead.

Velgrynd stood beside him, her arms calmly crossed, but her eyes flickered with sharp interest. Her crimson hair shimmered faintly in the light, and though her posture was relaxed, anyone paying close attention could sense the tension just under her skin.

The doors creaked open.

The imperial messenger stepped through, his face pale, his uniform dusty from travel. He dropped to one knee the moment he was close enough.

"Your Majesty," the messenger said, voice firm, but his hands were shaking. "I bring word from the Storm Kingdom."

Rudra's voice was low and calm, but the edge in it was clear. "Speak."

The messenger swallowed, eyes flicking to Velgrynd, then back to Rudra. "Veldora has agreed to your visit. He said..."

Rudra leaned forward slightly. "He said what?"

There was a pause.

The messenger hesitated, visibly unsure whether to speak the rest. His lips parted, closed, then opened again. "He said: 'Let it be known—Storm Kingdom welcomes him. But let the Emperor know... there is no guarantee what he leaves with.'"

A chill rolled across the room.

The words hung in the air like a blade balanced at the edge of a fall. Several of the imperial generals shifted in place. One of them—General Karsel—visibly flinched. Another murmured under his breath, "Was that... a threat?"

The moment the messenger's words fully sunk in, a cold silence swept over the room like fog. Rudra didn't react right away. He sat still, lips pressed together, fingers tapping the golden armrest of his throne.

It was hard to read his expression.

Velgrynd, however, rolled her eyes.

"Oh please," she said aloud, stepping forward a little. "Do you really think he meant he's going to kill Rudra?"

The generals glanced nervously at each other. Karsel cleared his throat. "Lady Velgrynd, with all due respect... that sounded very much like a death warning."

Velgrynd's gaze snapped to him like a whip. "You don't know my brother like I do."

That silenced the room again.

She turned to Rudra. "He's not going to kill you. If he wanted you dead, you wouldn't be getting a formal invitation. You'd be getting ashes."

Rudra let out a soft breath and rubbed his temples. "Still... it's not exactly comforting."

"He's testing you," Velgrynd said simply. "He wants to see if you're walking in there with pride or with humility."

"I don't suppose groveling would help," Rudra muttered.

Velgrynd laughed. "You groveling? I'd pay to see that."

Rudra gave her a look, then sighed again. "So what do I do, Velgrynd? I insulted him. I started a war against him. And now he says I can visit... but might not leave with what I came with. That's the most Veldora response possible."

"He's matured," Velgrynd said, her voice a little softer now. "He's not the reckless dragon he used to be. But he doesn't forget."

Rudra nodded slowly, then looked to the messenger. "Did he... say anything else?"

The messenger shook his head. "No, Your Majesty. That was it. But... he wasn't angry. Not visibly."

One of the generals in the back—an older man named General Hegro—spoke up carefully. "Sire, if I may... it could be wise to postpone this. Just until we have more assurance."

Velgrynd cut him off sharply. "Postpone, and you insult him again."

Rudra stood up, walking a few steps from the throne and staring out one of the tall windows. Below, the city of the Eastern Empire stretched like a painting—clean, rigid, perfect.

But no peace.

Just paranoia.

He could feel the strain in the air, the way his own people were on edge, watching for a strike that never came.

After a long silence, he turned back. "I'll go. In a week."

The generals straightened, some clearly uncomfortable.

Velgrynd smiled faintly. "Good. Because if you didn't, I was going to drag you there myself."

Rudra smirked. "I bet you would."

As the tension eased slightly, the generals returned to their stiff positions, but uncertainty remained in their eyes. The Emperor was going to the Storm Kingdom. And even though the dragon had smiled and opened the gates...

…there was no guarantee what he'd return with.

Far away, in the Storm Kingdom, Saiki sat on top of the palace rooftop, sipping his coffee jelly. His eyes scanned the wind, ears twitching slightly.

"Yare yare," he mumbled, "humans and dragons and their pride games... this should be entertaining."

He took another sip.

The real show hadn't even started yet.