The Peerless God Of Choas

The grand throne room, adorned with intricate golden carvings and tapestries depicting the empire's conquests, lay bathed in the dim glow of floating crystal lanterns. At its heart stood a lone woman, tall and poised, her presence exuding power. She bore the title of Crown Princess—an embodiment of absolute authority. Her golden eyes gleamed with an unsettling sharpness as she regarded the one before her.

"Elizabeth, you know why I'm sending you to the hero summoning ritual, don't you?" The Crown Princess's voice was smooth yet menacing, carrying an air of unquestionable command.

The woman addressed as Elizabeth met her gaze without hesitation. Clad in a refined military uniform, her raven-black hair cascaded behind her, giving her the appearance of a war maiden. She bowed slightly before answering, her tone unwavering.

"Yes, Crown Princess. You wish for me to ensure that none of the summoned heroes possess demonic traits."

A moment of silence lingered between them, the atmosphere thick with unspoken gravity. Then, with a single blink from the Crown Princess, Elizabeth's entire being—both physical and spiritual—was erased from existence, vanishing into the void.

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A Sinister Mind Amidst Peace

Within the prestigious halls of Luna Imperial Academy, the most renowned institution in the empire, a classroom filled with elite students bustled with quiet conversations and hushed gossip. Each student bore an air of refinement, their uniforms pristine, their faces marked by the confidence of nobility. Yet among them, at the very back of the room, sat one who seemed to exist beyond their world.

Anos De Luna.

He was different—not merely in appearance but in the very essence of his being. While his peers flaunted their lineage and talents, Anos exuded an aura of effortless superiority. His posture was perfect, his lean frame holding a concealed strength beneath his uniform. His facial features were sculpted with such perfection that even divine beings would feel envy. His cold, calculating silver eyes, sharper than any blade, held an intensity that unsettled those who dared to meet them.

Yet, despite his seemingly serene demeanor, the mind of Anos was a realm of chaos. A seething hatred burned within him—one directed at the very concept of peace. The tranquility that surrounded him, the harmony of this world—it was an insult to his existence. A disease that needed to be eradicated.

Outside the window, birds chirped in rhythmic harmony, the skies were free of turmoil, and the academy grounds thrived with peaceful chatter. He despised it. He despised all of it.

The soft click of heels against the marble floor drew the class's attention. Their teacher, Miss Victoria, entered the room with her usual grace. She was a woman of striking beauty, possessing an elegance that captivated many students. Her sapphire-blue eyes swept across the room as she addressed them in her usual calm yet authoritative tone.

"Alright, class, settle down. Let us begin marking the register."

Her words floated through the room, acknowledged by the obedient murmurs of students. Yet, to Anos, they were nothing more than a distant echo. His gaze remained locked outside, his mind lost in thoughts of destruction.

Time trickled by, and Miss Victoria continued calling out names, recording the students' presence. The classroom, though routine in its order, was about to descend into madness.

A sudden shift in the air.

A pulse of power, foreign yet ancient, sent an unnatural chill slithering down every student's spine. The once-ordinary atmosphere of the room darkened.

And then—it appeared.

A greatsword, large and ominous, materialized in the center of the classroom, floating as if guided by unseen hands. Its blade bore the resemblance of an ancient Murim warrior's weapon, its steel darkened by an eerie glow, pulsating with an unknown force. The moment its presence graced the room, a suffocating silence fell over the students.

Even Anos, whose indifference was as unshakable as stone, turned his gaze toward the weapon. For the first time in the entire day, his interest was piqued.

Miss Victoria, as experienced as she was, stiffened at the sight. Her instincts screamed at her, warning her that whatever this was—it was not of this world.

And then, chaos struck.

Without warning, the blade moved. Fast. Too fast.

A blur of steel.

A sharp schlck.

Blood splattered across the polished floors as Miss Victoria's body was cleaved in half, the two halves of her form collapsing unceremoniously onto the floor. The stunned silence shattered into deafening screams.

Panic erupted. Students bolted from their seats, scrambling toward the door, desperation etched across their faces. Their noble upbringing meant nothing now—the primal fear of death had stripped them of all pretense.

But the sword was merciless.

It moved once more, slicing through flesh and bone as though they were paper. Heads flew, bodies crumpled. The classroom became a slaughterhouse, painted in crimson. Screams turned into gurgles. The smell of blood thickened the air.

Yet amidst the massacre, one remained standing.

Anos.

He did not run. He did not cower. He did not scream.

Instead, he watched.

Fascination flickered in his eyes, a glimmer of twisted excitement as he observed the carnage unfold before him. The sword had turned the classroom into a realm of death, and yet, Anos felt nothing but exhilaration.

The floating greatsword, now coated in the fresh blood of its victims, turned its attention toward him.

It charged.

Anos did not move.

He stepped forward, a slow, deliberate movement, extending his hand as if to embrace the very thing that sought to end him. A chilling smile stretched across his lips.

The blade plunged forward—straight through his heart.

Pain should have followed. Agony should have consumed him. But no such thing occurred. Instead, a strange sensation wrapped around him, a feeling that defied explanation. The blade did not pull itself free from his body as it had with the others. It remained embedded in his chest, its glow intensifying.

And then—

Anos De Luna vanished.

The classroom, once alive with the cries of students, now lay in haunting silence. Only corpses remained, bathed in pools of their own blood.

The sword and Anos were gone.

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