-------------AFTER 7 YEARS--------------

The Game of Rulers wasn’t just a tournament.

It was awar.

A battlefield where only the strongest, the most cunning, and the most relentless could claim the ultimate prizethe right to rule energy itself.

For centuries, the tournament had been a proving ground for the elites ofGreater Earth. Warriors, mages, and supernatural beings from every corner of the world receivedinvitationsto test their might against the best.

But this year, something was different.

The tournament committee had compileda blacklist—a list of fighters deemedtoo dangerous, too unpredictableto be allowed entry.

And at the very top of that list was a single name.

Echo, Lord of the Dead.

The namestruck fearinto the hearts of warriors, not just because of what he had done—but because ofwhat he had become.

When he first entered the scene, he was nothing more than apromising fighter—a prodigy who wielded death like a tool, shaping it into devastating techniques.

But then

He disappeared.

Not because he was defeated. Not because he ran away.

But because he was said to have crossed theboundaries of Unified Energy.

Something no mortal was ever supposed to do.

And now

He was back.

In a dimly lit chamber beneath the city, five figures sat around afloating energy sigil—a crimson sealengraved with ancient runes.

Each of them was arulerin their own right. Some governedkingdoms, others ruledunderground empires, but here, in this room

They were nothing more thanpawnsin a far greater game.

A man withgolden eyesanda scar across his chinleaned forward.

"So it’s true? He’s alive?"

The woman beside him, her face hidden behind a steel mask, nodded.

"We confirmed it yesterday. The energy fluctuations don’t lie."

A heavy silence fell over the room.

Then, an old man withraven-black robesexhaled slowly.

"If Echo has returned... then we’re already too late."

No one spoke.

Becausethey all knew what that meant.

The Game of Rulers was no longer just aboutwinning.

It was aboutsurvival.

Far from the city, deep within the ruins of an abandoned fortress, a lone figure stood beneath the flickering moonlight.

His cloak billowed in the wind, and his silver-white hair shimmered like the blade of a freshly sharpened sword.

Echo.

He gazed at the invitation in his hand—a simple black cardengraved with golden letters.

"You are invited to the Game of Rulers."

He ran his fingers over the edge of the card, feeling the energy pulsating from it.

They wanted him to fight.

They wanted to seeif he was still the same Echo they once knew.

A smirk crossed his lips.

They had no idea.

Hewasn’t the same.

Not even close.

The news of Echo’s return spread like wildfire.

In every kingdom, every city, every underground fighting den—whispers ofthe Lord of the Deadfilled the air.

Some called him amonster.

Some called him alegend.

And some—

Some simply called himthe inevitable.

One thing was certain—this year’s tournament would be unlike any other.

Because Echo wasn’t here tocompete.

He was here totake everything.

A Sudden Attack

Just as Echo turned to leave the ruins, his instincts screamed at him.

A presence.

Nomultiple.

Before he could react, the skyexplodedwith light.

Dozens of figuresdescendedfrom the cliffs, their energy signatures flaring like blazing torches.

Assassins.

Mercenaries.

Killers sent toerase him before the tournament even began.

Echo sighed.

"So this is how it is."

The leader of the group, a tall man with aflaming spear, pointed his weapon at him.

"Echo, you’re a threat. We’ve been given orders to put you down."

Echo chuckled.

"You think you’re the first to try?"

The manlunged forward, his spear igniting the air itself—

But in theblink of an eye, Echo was gone.

Reappearing behind him.

A whisper escaped Echo’s lips.

"Too slow."

Ablade of pure darknessextended from his hand—

And in a single swift motion—

The leader’s head fell to the ground.

The others hesitated.

Terror filled their eyes.

Echo stepped forward, the shadows swirling around him like living creatures.

"I’ll give you one chance," he said, his voice cold.

"Run."

And for the first time

The assassins obeyed.

As the corpses of those who refused to runvanished into the wind, Echo gazed up at the sky.

The Game of Rulers was approaching.

But he wasn’t entering as acompetitor.

He was entering as aking.

----

The first battlefield of theGame of Rulerswas a vast coliseum, carved fromobsidian stoneand reinforced by ancient energy runes. Above, the sky was painted with streaks of crimson and gold, as if the very heavens recognized the gravity of this event.

The airvibratedwith power.

Warriors from every corner ofGreater Earthhad assembled each one a legend in their own right.

Some wieldedmana energy, conjuring ragingfirestormsthat twisted and roared like dragons. Others harnessedforce energy, their mere footstepsshatteringthe ground beneath them.

The ground trembled. The atmosphere burned with intensity.

And then

Ashadowfell over the arena.

The temperature droppedabruptly, sending a chill through the bones of even the mightiest fighters. The firestorms flickered. The earth-tremors ceased.

Somethingno, someonehad arrived.

Echo stepped into the arena.

The Arrival of the Lord of the Dead

He walkedcalmly, his gaze cold and unreadable.

No weapon. No armor.

He didn’t shout. He didn’t summon an aura of power.

Yeteveryone felt it.

Apressureunlike anything they had ever experienced before.

It wasn’t the raw brutality of a berserker.

It wasn’t the refined discipline of a master swordsman.

It was somethingfar worse.

It was the feeling ofDeath itselfwatching them.

The warriors of the battlefield, seasoned killers who had slain thousands, felt their hearts race. Some instinctively clenched their weapons. Others struggled to suppress theshiverrunning down their spines.

But then one of them scoffed.

A towering man, his muscles likeforged iron, stepped forward. His arms were wrapped in enchanted chains, crackling withlightning energy. He sneered, his voice thick with arrogance.

"What’s this? Did they bring a ghost to fight us?"

The crowd chuckled.

And then

Hishead disappeared.

Gone.

No sound. No flash of movement.

One moment he was alive. The next—he wasn’t.

Athick silencechoked the arena.

All eyes darted toward Eiko, trying to comprehend what had just happened.

No one had seen him move.

No one had felt an energy surge.

And yet, a warrior known for his speed and power had beenerasedfrom existence.

The ground where he stood was still warm. His blood had not even touched the dirt.

It was as if reality itself hadskipped a frame.

A chill ran through the assembled fighters.

This wasn’tjustanother competitor.

This was amonster.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by lotustale.com