Solo Leveling: Monarch of Light

As The saying goes... "From deepest shadows, dawn's first light takes flight"

-Unknown Planet-

The air crackled with the raw power of warring monarchs. Ashborn, the Shadow Monarch, a figure wreathed in darkness, unleashed a torrent of shadow tendrils that lashed out at the assembled rulers.

Dragons the size of mountains roared, their fiery breath scorching the already blood-soaked battlefield. Goliaths, their skin like granite, clashed with colossal beasts born of nightmare, their roars echoing across the ravaged landscape.

Amidst the chaos, a figure moved with impossible grace – the Monarch of Light and Dawn. He was a mystery, a whisper among the monarchs, a former ruler whose past remained shrouded in enigma, known only as the "greatest brilliant light among the constellations" a title whispered with reverence and fear in equal measure.

His presence was a paradox, a beacon of blinding light amidst the oppressive darkness of Ashborn's reign. He didn't fight with brute force like the others; his movements were precise, almost balletic, each strike a calculated blow that cleaved through monstrous forms with ethereal ease.

His weapon, a blade that seemed to hum with celestial energy, left trails of shimmering light in its wake, cutting through the darkness like a celestial scythe. He moved with a chilling efficiency, a silent predator in a storm of destruction.

A single sweep of his blade could obliterate a horde of lesser monsters, a single glare could freeze a dragon in its tracks.

The other monarchs watched him with a mixture of awe and apprehension; his power was undeniable, his motives inscrutable. Was he an ally or another threat in this brutal dance of death?

The answer remained hidden, lost in the swirling chaos of the eternal twilight that had fallen upon the battlefield.

The clash of titans continued, a symphony of destruction punctuated by the silent grace of the Monarch of Light and Dawn, his true intentions as enigmatic as the stars themselves. His very presence shifted the balance of power, a silent testament to his unparalleled might.

'This guy... He's dangerous!'

-The monarch of dragons and destruction Antares. Stared at the blurry silhouette of the once former ruler

Then From the bruised, twilight sky, the remnants of the Rulers descended, their forms ragged and broken. Ashborn, the Shadow Monarch, and the Monarch of Light and Dawn stood amidst the devastation of the battlefield, their gazes fixed on the approaching figures.

A palpable tension filled the air, the silence broken only by the whisper of the wind through the skeletal remains of fallen monsters. The two monarchs, figures of immense power and opposing ideologies, watched as the defeated Rulers approached, their movements hesitant, their postures humble.

Ashborn and the Monarch of Light and Dawn stood silhouetted against the bruised twilight sky, their gazes locked on the descending Rulers. A hush fell over the ravaged battlefield, the only sound the wind whistling through shattered bones and twisted metal.

Then, a trembling voice broke the silence: "Please… it's time for the both of you to forgive us. Oh, the two of the greatest fragments of brilliant light…" Another Ruler echoed the sentiment, his voice strained, "There is no reason for us to continue this war any longer."

Ashborn's response was a snarl, a guttural sound that ripped through the stillness. "Forgive you? You pathetic worms! You betrayed the very essence of creation, bowing to lesser evils, forsaking the light for the shadows! You deserve nothing but annihilation!" The Monarch of Light and Dawn remained silent, his eyes hardening into glacial shards.

His silence, far more chilling than any outburst, spoke volumes.

A whimper escaped the Rulers' ranks. "He… he was our master as well…"

The Monarch of Light and Dawn's hand shot out, seizing one of the cowering Rulers by the throat, his grip like a vise. His voice, when it came, was a rasping whisper, cold as the grave.

"And what twisted mockery of loyalty made you, who once pledged your souls to the Absolute, utter such sacrilegious lies? Did the darkness corrupt your very memories, leaving you nothing but hollow shells of what you once were?" He released the Ruler, tossing him aside like a broken toy. The Ruler landed with a sickening thud, his life draining away.

The remaining Rulers, paralyzed by fear and remorse, continued their desperate pleas for forgiveness, their words lost in a torrent of apologies and self-recriminations. They spoke of their failings, their betrayal, their desperate hope for redemption. Ashborn and the Monarch of Light and Dawn remained unmoved, their expressions unreadable. The weight of their silence, the unspoken judgment, was heavier than any punishment.

Then, as abruptly as they had arrived, the two monarchs turned and retreated, leaving the broken, repentant Rulers to their fate, their silence a condemnation more potent than any words. The battlefield, still littered with the remnants of their war, fell into an uneasy quiet, the future uncertain under the watchful gaze of the silent, retreating figures.

Watching their silhouette going into a gate, the rulers and the monarchs watched in silent

Then one by one under the command of the monarchs, the monsters also retreated, after all two of their strongest combatant already left

They are not dumb enough to fight with the rulers for now

-Time passed by 500 years later-

{A/N; I forgot some of the timelines in SL since it's been a while since I finished the manwha so I would appreciate if you point out some of my mistakes.}

Upon a crag, a ruined castle clawed at the bruised sky, its stones stained with the hues of a thousand sunsets and a thousand battles.

A path, barely discernible amidst the rubble and creeping vines, snaked towards its heart, a skeletal finger pointing towards the shadowed keep.

At the summit, within the crumbling throne room, sat a figure bathed in an ethereal glow. Clad in pristine white armor, impossibly unsullied by the surrounding decay, the figure was a stark contrast to the oppressive gloom.

The armor itself seemed to hum with a faint, inner light, each plate a flawless reflection of the spectral luminescence that emanated from the figure within. No face was visible, only the imposing silhouette, a silent sentinel guarding the secrets of the ruined castle, a silent guardian of a forgotten age.

The air crackled with an almost palpable energy, a silent testament to the power held within that pristine, white form.

The silence of the ruined castle was broken only by the whisper of the wind and the faint creak of ancient stone. He sat upon the throne, a figure sculpted from moonlight and shadow, his white armor gleaming faintly in the dim light.

For centuries, he had remained here, a silent observer of the world's turmoil. He had witnessed the rise and fall of empires, the ebb and flow of countless wars, the ceaseless dance of life and death. He was a being of immense power, a fragment of a celestial being, a guardian of a forgotten age. But even such power couldn't fill the void that gnawed at his core. He was alone, utterly and completely alone.

He had observed the rise of the Shadow Monarch, Ashborn, a being of immense darkness who had chosen a vessel and a system to channel his power. The reports of the Architect's involvement had reached him, accounts of a system designed to enhance the vessel's abilities, a system that had transformed a seemingly ordinary human into a force of unparalleled might. He understood the power of such a symbiotic relationship, the potential for both destruction and creation.

He, too, desired a vessel, a conduit to channel his immense power, to interact with the world in a meaningful way. But his approach would differ. Ashborn had chosen a vessel capable of wielding immense power, a vessel forged in the fires of adversity.

He, however, would seek a vessel of purity, a soul untainted by the darkness that plagued the world. A soul so pure, so untouched by malice, that it could withstand the immense power he would bestow upon it.

And to guide this vessel, he would not create his own system, but seek the Architect's assistance, requesting a system tailored to nurture purity and guide the vessel towards a path of righteousness, a counterpoint to Ashborn's reign of darkness.

He would not fully possess the vessel, but instead, a fragment of his mana, a whisper of his power, would reside within the chosen one, subtly guiding and strengthening them. This subtle influence would be undetectable, a silent guardian watching over the chosen one, a guiding light within.

With a resolve that had solidified over centuries of contemplation, he reached out, his spectral hand extending towards a shimmering portal, a gateway to the world of mortals.

He would contact the Architect, requesting a system for his chosen vessel, a system that would be a beacon of hope in a world drowning in darkness.

His path was clear. The search for the purest soul would begin. As he initiated contact, a wave of celestial energy washed over him, a blinding light that consumed his physical form.

He would cease to exist as an independent entity, his essence merging with the world, waiting for the moment his fragment of mana would find its destined vessel. His sacrifice was complete. His purpose, finally, had a beginning.

-Planet Of Dragons-

Upon a pile of bones sat a figure in long red hair resting in peace when his eyes suddenly widened in shock

Then with a flick of his finger a dragon with overbearing momentum and the size of a castle came to his side

"Convey this message to the other monarchs. The statement is... The Monarch of Light and Dawn; Luminas has DIED!"

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How is it? I want to make this chapter as short as possible since I really don't know much of the battle between the monarchs and the rulers since it's short covered in the manwha

Plus it's difficult since there is an inserted characters which made me reread the manhwa so that it would further build up his background

Btw for the image of the MC and Luminas. I have not yet found any accurate arts