[Oliver PoV]

  As soon as Oliver's gaze settled on the man's face, certainty gripped him. This was no ordinary figure. It was a Sovereign, one of the ancient cosmic overlords whose very presence warped reality itself.

  The wave of raw Energy emanating from the entity wasn't as overwhelming as standing face-to-face with the proper, unbound forms of Athena or Cernunnos. Yet even this reduced form was enough to press against Oliver's senses. In another time, it might have stolen his breath entirely, leaving him gasping.

  It felt as though invisible waters surged beneath his skin, a phantom tide that left him drenched in ethereal moisture. His flesh prickled with imagined dampness. Tiny droplets seemed to infiltrate his nostrils, clogging his airways with an insidious pressure that made each inhale harder.

  Oliver remained seated, his legs crossed. He held his position, unmoving, as thoughts swirled in his head.

  'What does he seek by revealing himself at last?' The Elves whispered that Sovereigns could manifest to more than one person if they chose. 'But this... this doesn't strike me as a whim without purpose.' He cocked his head slightly to one side, his brow furrowing in quiet perplexity.

  Yet he needn't intervene. The scene unfurled before him like it was scripted by fate itself.

  As it was expected, Adrian's fury ignited at the indignity inflicted upon the Emperor. His voice rising in a torrent of outrage before being abruptly quelled. But the wildcard in this puzzle, the fragment Oliver hadn't foreseen, was Mordred rising to his feet. His stance was defiant as he faced the Sovereign.

  Oliver watched with close attention, his enhanced senses dissecting every micro-movement as the armor materialized around Mordred's form. It enveloped him in a seamless cascade of dark plates. Even without seeing which crystal was fueling it, Oliver knew it was abnormal. This was no standard Ranger Armor and no mass-produced Artificial Armor.

  No, it seemed like a hybrid, an evolved fusion that elevated the rudimentary Artificial Armor to new heights. The air around Mordred crackled with potential, a prelude to the clash that could reshape the empire.

  Oliver's mind raced, dissecting the enigma unfolding before him. 'What technology is this?' he pondered, his thoughts a whirlwind of speculation. 'Could this be the secret the Orks have been researching?'

  Mordred's boot slammed into the ground with force, a kinetic eruption that propelled him forward. The shockwave rippled outward, a blast that hurled Oliver and other Heirs backward.

  'I need it!' Seeing the speed, Oliver reached a conclusion. He observed closely Mordred's assault, tracking the Heir's every twitch and surge. The first punch Mordred unleashed was a thunderclap of raw power, aimed with precision at the unmoving Sovereign.

  The impact produced a deafening boom that compressed the air into a wall of force, shoving everyone back once more. Yet, astonishingly, the Sovereign's arm hardly budged, absorbing the blow with indifference.

  'That's my chance,' Oliver thought, his eyes narrowing as he summoned his boon. He amplified the flow of Energy coursing through his veins.

  [Insight]

  [Analyzing technology...]

  [Processing anomalous signatures...]

  [Tech unknown]

  The notification bloomed in his vision, a holographic overlay that pulsed with crimson warnings.

  'What the hell? Tech Unknown?' Oliver mentally recoiled, a spike of frustration piercing his focus. In all his five years of relentless evolution, honing his abilities through trials that spanned from lost space stations and alien battlegrounds, this wasn't unprecedented. However, it usually meant only one thing. 'It's Sovereign-level Tech.'

  | Boons

  | Insight [Queen][Growth]

  | Observation [Bishop][Growth]

  | Left Eye of Learning [Knight]

  | Right Eye of Secrets [Knight]

  | Emperor’s Pressure [Bishop]

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Nearly every one of Oliver's Boons hovered on the brink of ultimate mastery. Strained to the outermost edges of what training and a fragile human frame could endure. Ever since clawing his way to the exalted [Queen] rank in Insight, the galaxy's technologies were completely exposed to him. Only the inscrutable artifacts of the Sovereigns remained protected from his understanding.

  'Somehow, he got access to Sovereign-tech,' Oliver deduced.

  [Trying to reverse engineer - 1%]

  [Trying to reverse engineer - 2%]

  [Trying to reverse engineer - 3%]

  The progress bar in his vision crept forward with agonizing slowness.

  "I told you," the man enthroned intoned. "A Black Ranger will do nothing against me."

  "Who said this is Black?" Mordred retorted, his tone swelling with unbridled pride, chest puffed. "This isn’t something built by your kind. This is mine. The first Onyx Armor."

  'Onyx Armor?' The term echoed in Oliver's thoughts, it was unfamiliar and tantalizing.

  Though eons seemed to have passed since those days, before the Academy's rigorous indoctrination, the memories resurfaced. It was a time when the Orks were attacking and doing relentless incursions, plundering any tech humans had. However, what they seem to value most were the Artificial Armors.

  'Is this their innovation, or something the Lots have propelled forward? How does it compare against a rare Z Crystal's raw power?' The questions continued to pile up. 'I need this.'

  Oliver could already imagine the experiments the Tech Section would conduct on Aquarius if he managed to obtain the tech.

  Yet abruptly, his sight plunged into an abyss. Total, suffocating darkness was swallowing the chamber. From every shadowed crevice and forgotten corner, tendrils of darkness stirred to life, writhing toward Mordred. They coiled around him, slithering up the contours of his armor, merging and transmuting from voids in light into tangible matter.

  Mordred tore his hand free from the Sovereign’s grip and struck with brutal precision. His other arm, now wrapped in shadow, sharpened into a thin, deadly blade. The fight exploded into a storm of blows, fists flying so fast they blurred, each strike sparking against each other. Step by step, Mordred drove the Sovereign back. The chamber shook with the chaos of battle.

  As the Sovereign wove through the barrage of punches thrown at blinding speed, shadows erupted from Mordred's armored abdomen like living projectiles. They morphed mid-flight into spears and blades. Each shot charged toward the self-proclaimed god of humanity with predatory precision.

  Yet none found their mark. The Sovereign evaded them with effortless grace, his form a phantom blur that anticipated every trajectory, every feint.

  [Trying to reverse engineer - 9%]

  [Keep a steady image to continue analysis]

  [...]

  [Analysis paused]

  'How the hell am I supposed to keep it steady? I'm trying to stay locked on them, but the fight's moving too damn fast,' Oliver thought, frustration boiling in his veins.

  Amid the chaos, one strike slipped through. A grazing punch laced with shadows whispered past the Sovereign's cheek. It etched a shallow cut across his flawless image, a hairline fracture in the facade of divinity.

  But no crimson blood spilled from the wound. Instead, a cascade of ethereal light seeped forth. The glow lingered for mere seconds, illuminating the Sovereign's features before the rift sealed itself.

  The Sovereign's demeanor shifted in an instant, from placid indifference to a storm front of barely contained wrath. He raised a hand to his face, fingers tracing the phantom scar, his eyes narrowing into slits of cosmic fury. "How dare you..." The words hung unfinished.

  At last, he retaliated. His fist drove forward in what seemed a languid arc compared to the Heir's lightning assaults, yet it connected with Mordred's chest plate. The impact detonated with world-shaking force.

  Mordred's body catapulted across the room, a ragdoll hurled by god-like whims, slamming into the far wall. The wall buckled and collapsed in a cascade of sparks and debris, dust clouds rising like the aftermath of a bombardment.

  "Oops," the Sovereign murmured, his tone laced with mock chagrin, as if he'd merely spilled a drop of wine rather than unleashed apocalypse in miniature.

  Oliver could only blink in stupefied awe, his mind reeling from the chasm of disparity laid bare. The raw, unbridled might on display dwarfed anything he might have expected. A reminder that even in this diminished avatar, the entity commanded forces that bent reality to its knees.

  'He's still a Sovereign, even weakened,' Oliver reminded himself.

  In a flicker that defied physics, no prelude of motion, no warp distortion, the Sovereign vanished, materializing before Mordred. One hand clamped around the Heir's throat, lifting him as effortlessly as one might lift a sheet of paper. The grip intensified, fingers digging into the Onyx Armor's neck plating with escalating pressure, sending hairline fractures spiderwebbing outward from each finger.

  Until, at last, the Onyx Ranger Armor disintegrated. Plates shattering into shards that evaporated into wisps of residual Energy, leaving Mordred exposed and gasping in the Sovereign's unyielding grasp.

  The entity sauntered back toward his throne, dragging the defeated Heir by the neck like a trophy. With a dismissive flick, he hurled the body toward the Republicans, where it tumbled to a halt.

  "Now that the child's play is over," the Sovereign declared, settling back into his seat with the poise of an emperor reclaiming his domain, "let's get to what I demand of you. It's time for a little competition."