Roan

The Emperor of the Grand Roan Empire grits his teeth as he finds himself unable to do anything but kneel on the ground, bowing his head to the immensely powerful being floating high in the air in front of him. A being whose psychotic grin sends chills down his spine just from a mere glance. And whose power had crushed his entire empire in less than a week when he finally joined the fray personally.

But the emperor knows that if Famine really wanted to crush them in an instant, he would’ve. He’s powerful enough to drain the entire planet of their energy in mere minutes, much less a week.

In reality, Famine was toying with him. Making a spectacle of it all and trying to teach the universe a lesson.

If Vorelius had known when he first attacked Vortel that the Pale Horseman had lived on the world, then he wouldn’t have gone anywhere near the world. Neither would he have signed that Soul Pact if he had known after the war.

But how was he supposed to know that Death was a true immortal? The two concepts should’ve been like oil and water. Someone representing death not being able to die.

It was until later on that he realized who she truly was. And by then he had already signed himself into a hole through contracts.

He couldn’t stop the hunt regardless of whether he wanted to or not.

Now though he’s beginning to wonder if he should’ve just broken the Soul Pact and died that way.

It would’ve been a much more peaceful death than the life he’s bound to be living now.

He finally lifts his head to fully look at the man floating above him and his entire half-starved army. Meanwhile soldiers in pitch black armor without any features visible through the armor stand with spears in hand surrounding every last group of citizens and soldiers all across the world.

Famine himself is wearing pitch black, leathery armor with metal gauntlets and greaves. Meanwhile his short black hair is blowing ever so slightly in the wind as his pitch black eyes take in everything, those white needle-sized glowing spots in them somehow displaying his sheer arrogance and superiority over everyone present.

“The real rulers of the Universe are far beyond your strength,” the man says as he spreads both of his arms out and lets out an eerie cackle. Following which a black stream of energy begins to rise from every member of the empire – whether they’re soldiers or citizens – and heads directly to him. “Rejoice! For you are now a part of my Empire!”

Vorelius feels another chill run down his spine at that statement. And at the same time, he feels all of his energy slowly being drained. Whether it’s his mana, his physical strength, or even a large amount of his muscle mass and bodyweight.

Everything begins to drain away.

And it’s not just him. He sees all of his men and the civilians kneeling further away growing more and more emancipated. To the point that their skin practically begins to cling to their bones.

But no one dies.

The drain slows down to a tiny trickle the moment it begins to truly reach a dangerous point. Then it just becomes a dull ache in Vorelius’s body. A sensation that somehow tells him that if he were to eat anything, the majority of what he ate wouldn’t be turned into nutrients for his body.

It’d be drained by Famine to empower him instead.The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Vorelius grits his teeth. And he’s not the only one as all of his people do the same, with the majority of them losing their strength and collapsing onto the ground.

It’s over… damnit…

“I’m sure you all know my law,” Famine declares with a grin before a man with black hair and dead black eyes floats up next to him with a clipboard in hand. “But in case you don’t, here’s my Minister of Law to help you all out.”

The man in question simply stops moving once he reaches a point directly beneath Famine, not daring to fly higher than his liege lest he be punished. Then he declares, his cold voice echoing out over the entire world through the livestream currently going on, “The First Decree of Dread Empire Law states that all food grown by the world is to be taxed, granting seventy percent of the produce to the Dread Empire’s coffers.”

Horror stretches across the faces of every last citizen and soldier in the world. And the horror only grows the more the man says.

“The Second Decree of Dread Empire Law states that all citizens are limited to one meal a day,” the minister continues in an emotionless voice. “Any citizen caught eating more than the listed amount of food every day in more than one meal will be starved to the point of emaciation without killing them. Then you will be locked away in prison for three days and three nights before being set free once again.”

Vorelius slowly lowers his head, closing his eyes despite the raging hunger filling his body. Having truly given up.

A sight that no doubt pleases Famine.

“The Third Decree of Dread Empire Law states that emigration is illegal by law,” the minister declares, further frightening the people. “Any citizen caught attempting to leave their assigned world will be starved to the point of emaciation and locked away in a cell for one week before being set free to work for the government for one month.”

Wails and sobs of despair echo out amongst the people, none of whom seem to care about Famine’s presence anymore. Which turns out to be a terrible decision as all those who raised their voices end up falling to the stone unconscious as more of their energy is drained. Just barely leaving them still alive. Then they’re taken away by soldiers wearing pitch black armor whose faces and physical builds cannot be determined through the armor.

And the wails immediately stop after that. Everyone growing as silent as the dead out of fear.

“The Fourth Decree of Dread Empire Law states that all words or actions against the Horsemen of the Apocalypse will be punishable by emaciation and imprisonment for two weeks,” the minister continues, not batting an eye at the turn of events. “The Fifth Decree of Dread Empire Law states that all civilians of the Dread Empire must serve at least five years within the Empire’s military before they turn thirty years of age.”

The emperor of the former Grand Roan Empire feels slightly disparaged by the fact that this law – which would normally be a strict one – feels so laxed compared to the other laws stated up till now.

“The Sixth Decree of Dread Empire Law states that all profits earned by the worlds under the Dread Empire’s rule are to be put under a seventy percent tax,” the minister declares, still without a hint of emotion on his face. And at this point, the citizens and soldiers of the former Grand Roan Empire have grown numbed to the cruel laws. Enough that they don’t even react to this one. “The Seventh Decree of Dread Empire Law states that food beyond a minimum allowance is not allowed to be brought into the Dread Empire by anyone. All visitors to a Dread Empire owned world will be checked for food, and should they have more than the set minimum, it will be taken from them.”

Then the minister goes on to state more laws, none of which are as harsh as the already stated ones. But each one leaves the numbed, starved, and terrified people even worse off than before.

All while the Dread Emperor, Famine, floats with his arms crossed and a psychotic grin on his face.

Showing just why he’s the most apocalyptic of the Horsemen of the Apocalypse.

After a while, the minister finally puts away his clipboard and lowers himself a little, implying he is finished with stating the laws. Then Famine spreads his arms out again, his grin widening even more as he declares, “Now you all belong to my lovely little empire! Rejoice, for you’ve joined the most powerful force in the universe!”

Vorelius grimaces when he sees some of his soldiers and civilians showing looks that imply Famine is wrong about that. Implying that they believe the Dread Empire is not the most powerful force in the universe. Because those people are immediately taken away by the soldiers without Famine so much as looking at them.

Then Famine raises a single finger and says, “I won’t be tolerating any dissidence, alright? But have fun!” The amusement vanishes from his face, leaving him grinning at them with a look that shows just how mad the man is. “Because you’ll regret it if you don’t.”

And within seconds of saying that, the man vanishes in a burst of black energy.

Leaving the soldiers to manage the new world under the Dread Empire’s banners.