"the beginning and the end"

"Crackling... crackling..."

The sound of lightning was both majestic and terrifying, but what was even more frightening was the chilling killing intent emanating from the dark clouds, all directed toward one person.

That person, naturally, was Victor, who was kneeling on the ground, blood gushing violently from his mouth—this even before the lightning struck him.

"Hmm? As expected! He has violated the sovereignty of the Heavenly Dao."

Jowalin gazed at the rapidly gathering dark clouds above, his thoughts racing.

"So, am I the accursed pharaoh the Heavenly Dao speaks of? It seems so. But how have they returned? No matter... I'll just kill them again."

A faint smile crept onto Jowalin's face as he raised his hand, adorned with a white glove, toward the sky. Black runic symbols on the glove began to glow.

"Calm down..."

Jowalin roared with fury, striking the void above him. To any observer, it seemed like an ordinary punch—no spiritual energy, no advanced technique.

"Rip... crack..."

Suddenly, the sound of tearing and shattering echoed as the space above Jowalin's hand fractured like glass under immense force. The cracks extended rapidly toward the clouds.

In the next moment, a black hole emerged, swallowing the storm clouds entirely before the space repaired itself at an astonishing speed.

"!!!???"

"What kind of power is this... by the Creator of Hell?!"

Sirin was paralyzed with shock, her voice trembling with fear. But she fell silent when she noticed Jowalin, who was equally stunned.

"My son is hiding far more than I imagined... But how? Wasn't he in a coma all this time?!"

Jowalin stared at the glove in awe, his focus fixed on the mysterious ring embedded in it. The force that had just obliterated the space was clearly emanating from the ring's engravings, not the glove itself.

"...I had been using the staff's power all along, but these engravings suppressed its force and acted on their own!"

"This power is dangerous—space and destruction combined. I can't wait to uncover its secrets."

A sly grin spread across Jowalin's face as he turned his gaze to the old man kneeling on the ground, trembling—whether from fear of the storm or of Jowalin himself, no one could tell.

"Boom!"

"Get up, you pathetic old fool! How long are you going to tremble like a cowardly cat?!"

Jowalin kicked the old man hard, causing him to fall forward. Moments later, the old man stood up, forcing a smile.

"Thank you, young master... If not for you, that cursed disaster would have destroyed me."

"Hmph! Enough. I don't need your flattery."

Jowalin pushed the old man aside, who now wagged his metaphorical tail like an obedient dog. Turning to his mother, he asked, "What are you planning to do now, Mother?"

"..."

Sirin remained silent for a while, her eyes fixed on the horizon. Then, with a deep sigh, she said, "The people of this land have suffered long enough. I think it's time for them to live again."

"I've regained some memories... I believe great danger is fast approaching the central lands."

"The first step is to reclaim authority, then..."

Her voice, filled with sorrow as she spoke of her people's suffering, suddenly turned cold and resolute, exuding a deadly aura.

"...begin the march to dominance."

"Ha ha ha! Just as expected from my mother. Excellent! I'll leave things here to you. As for me..."

Jowalin discussed his plans with his mother for a while before leaving for Caesar. Meanwhile, Sirin took Victor and headed to the main palace.

---

At the main palace, Varin sat on his throne with an imposing air, surrounded by the council elders seated in astonishment.

They were baffled by Varin's demeanor—his trembling figure drenched in sweat as he muttered, "A calamity is coming... I can feel it... It's coming... It's coming... I..."

"Boom!"

Before he could finish, the palace doors exploded open with a deafening blast, prompting the elders to leap to their feet, drawing their swords.

"Who dares intrude upon the Emperor's domain?!"

"Show yourself, insolent fool!"

The elders' voices thundered, their killing intent filling the air, while Varin remained frozen, trembling on his throne.

"Step... step..."

"Kneel, insects... You stand before the young Empress herself."

The sound of heavy footsteps was accompanied by an overwhelming, thunderous aura.

"It... it's him?!"

Varin was the first to recognize the figure, immediately falling to his knees with such force that his head struck the ground.

"This humble servant greets the one and only sovereign!"

"???"

The elders were utterly stunned. How could the king of Kemet—a descendant of the ancient kings—bow before anyone?

"Varin, you cursed fool..."

The elders clenched their teeth in shame, struggling against the overwhelming pressure as they refused to kneel. Instead, they raised their swords, ready to face death with honor.

Suddenly, Victor appeared, his gaze filled with disdain as he looked at Varin. Then, turning his attention to the eleven elders, he smirked and said:

"Ha ha... Such bravery! How dare you refuse to kneel, you ants?!"

"Hmph! Who do you think you are to make us kneel before you?"

"We are descendants of kings... the heirs of the earth's protectors!"

"Ha ha ha ha... Do you think we fear death? We live to die for this homeland!"

"Indeed, my brother... It is the greatest honor."

The elders exchanged glances, smiling with pride as tears of dignity streamed from their eyes. In unison, they roared:

"Victory... Struggle... Strength!"

"Victory... Struggle... Strength!"

Their resounding voices echoed throughout the capital, reaching the ears of the old, the young, and even the women.

Tears flowed from everyone's eyes as they abandoned their tasks and rushed toward the palace, shouting:

"Victory... Struggle... Strength... Resolve!"

Victor stood in stunned silence, his shock deepening as the voices outside grew louder, reverberating through the skies. The aura emanating from their chants was unmistakable—it was the aura of war.

"How... How could such resolve exist in mere weaklings?!"

---

Outside, Jowalin opened the door of his house and looked at his people, their determination capable of shaking mountains. Tears welled up in his eyes and rolled down his cheeks.

Quickly wiping them away, he muttered, his voice trembling:

"So, the army's motto still lives... the first army in recorded history, the ancestors' slogan: Victory... Struggle... Strength... Resolve!"

As seconds passed, the chants grew louder and the enthusiasm soared, with more people gathering around the palace, their voices shaking the earth.

Inside the palace, Varin trembled even more as he heard the chants. Slowly, he lifted his head and saw Victor bowing respectfully toward the door.

Varin's shock turned to sheer disbelief as he watched the figure who entered.

It was a woman of extraordinary beauty, but her face was cold and her presence exuded an unmatched grandeur.

It was Sirin, the wife of the late general. Yet at this moment, her eyes were red, clearly from tears.

"Step... step..."

Sirin advanced with calm, steady steps, each one striking fear into Varin's heart.

She reached the throne and sat silently. Varin only snapped out of his daze when he heard the elders shouting with devotion:

"Long live Her Majesty, the eternal ruler of the earth!"

Varin looked in shock and saw the elders placing their hands on their chests and bowing their heads deeply—a gesture of utmost reverence, the ancient salute of the pharaohs.

"You are excused from formalities," Sirin said, gesturing for the elders to rise. Then, with a look of admiration, she added:

"Well done, all of you. You exceeded my expectations. As for you, Varin, I will spare your life out of respect for my husband."

Varin, who had been paralyzed with fear, suddenly felt overjoyed. But Sirin's next words sent him into despair:

"However, as a mere traitor, your cultivation will be abolished, and you will be thrown into prison like the dog you are. Such are the laws—no one is above them."

"What?! How... Agh!"

Varin couldn't finish his sentence as Victor appeared beside him in an instant, abolishing his cultivation and tossing him aside like a worthless dog.

"That's too harsh..."

Sweat dripped from the elders' brows as they watched, thinking to themselves.

"Do you think this is too harsh?!"

The elders remained silent, staring at the ground, not daring to speak.

"These were the ancestors' laws. Anyone who dares betray this land shall be crushed, no matter their status. No one is above justice."

"Yes..."

The elders' eyes widened as they shouted in unison. Then, the first elder stepped forward and said:

"Your Majesty, please... wear the crown and greet the people outside."

"Hmm? Are you referring to Narmer's Crown? The crown of Kemet's first king from the fifth era of the earth?"

"Yes, that's the one."

With great humility, the first elder retrieved the crown and returned, holding it with utmost care, respect, and longing.

The crown consisted of two parts: the white crown symbolizing Upper Egypt and the red crown symbolizing Lower Egypt, united as one to signify the great unity of the land—Egypt.

"I dared not let Varin wear it... Only the true king is worthy of donning this magnificent crown."

Sirin took the crown with calm reverence, gently wiping it before placing it on her head. Rising to her feet, she stepped onto the balcony overlooking the people.

---

"Victory... Struggle... Strength... Resolve!"

Among the crowd, Isis and Sarah stood with their fellow citizens, chanting fervently.

The scene was surreal. No one knew why they were chanting the war slogan, but everyone felt a duty to the homeland in that moment.

"Isis, look! Who is that?!"

Sarah called out to Isis in astonishment, pointing toward the main palace. Isis's mouth fell open in shock when she saw her mother, Sirin, wearing the legendary Narmer's Crown.

---

Sirin raised her hand toward the people and clenched her fist, signaling them to quiet down. Instantly, the chants ceased, and she began to speak:

"O great people... the time for glory has come."