The throne room reeked of blood and smoke.

Golden torches lined the towering obsidian walls, their flames casting flickering shadows over the crimson-stained floor. The air was thick—heavy with the aftermath of war, of a kingdom reduced to nothing but ash under his ruthless conquest.

And at the center of it all sat him.

The Great Destroyer. The God of Destruction. The monster who had reduced your kingdom to ashes.

A conqueror with eyes that burned like molten embers, his gaze searing through whatever—or whoever—dared to stand before him. His armor gleamed with the glow of destruction, his fingers tapping lazily against the armrest of his throne, as if already bored with the spectacle of survivors trembling at his feet.

You were one of them.

Tattered. Weak. Yet, somehow still breathing.

A broken remnant of a kingdom that no longer existed.

And then his voice—deep, commanding, laced with cruel amusement—broke the silence.

“Dance.”

Your breath hitched. The room stilled.

It was not a request.

One by one, the survivors around you flinched, their fear palpable. You could feel the weight of their unspoken words. Do it. If you refuse, you die.

A sick game. That’s what this was.

You had seen his wrath firsthand—the way he had burned through your people without hesitation. And now, you stood before him, not as a warrior, not even as a prisoner—but as a fleeting source of amusement.

But there was no choice.

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, a slow smirk curling his lips.

Your life balanced on his amusement.