Chapter Five: The King of Ultra

In the endless darkness of the universe, a streak of black and crimson light flashed past. Hot on its trail followed a silver gleam, slicing through the void, swiftly closing the distance between them.

Time lost all meaning as the chase continued, until at last, both beams halted somewhere in the cosmic emptiness. The lights shimmered, and Noah’s immense form emerged from the silvery glow.

“Zagi, you can’t escape anymore. Give up.” Noah gazed at the black and crimson beam, his voice calm and resonant. Behind him, the Wings of Noah spread wide, their argent radiance illuminating the void.

The black-red light quivered, and Zagi’s own form appeared—no longer the domineering figure he was in the Land of Light, but battered and desperate. He had always considered Noah his rival, but he was never as powerful. If both stood at the pinnacle of the universe’s might, Zagi was only just touching the summit, while Noah had long since reached the apex—a strength approaching the absolute.

Most crucially, Zagi was the achievement of the Visitors’ creation. His limitations were set the moment he was made; to pursue greater power from there was nearly impossible. In the course of his chase with Noah, his body had been shattered, and his evil consciousness had escaped in physical form—making him weaker than ever. He absorbed darkness continuously, but regrettably, he could never grasp the purest shadow.

He could not comprehend what the essence of pure darkness truly was. Darkness and light, two utterly opposing yet strangely similar forces. Among them, the most potent were the primordial light and darkness—the light born of hope and the darkness born of evil in the hearts of beings.

Noah was the universe’s first light; he possessed the original brilliance, though he had yet to fully perceive the light of hope within hearts. Zagi, on the other hand, was a creation—a mere imitation of Noah. His claim to be the darkness born alongside that first light was a self-deception, an effort to free himself from Noah’s overwhelming presence. He had not even touched the darkness born with the primordial light, let alone the evil darkness within hearts.

This was the gulf between them—a gulf so vast that Noah had effortlessly withstood Zagi’s “Lightning Zagi!” Without resorting to any of his three ultimate techniques, Noah had driven Zagi into the universe with a single “Noah Shoot.”

Zagi lingered in the void, stalling for time, eyes darting warily around him. But there was nothing—only the silent presence of a black hole.

“This is the end!” Noah’s voice boomed.

“Noah Shoot!”

“Damn it!”

A torrent of light surged across the void, striking Zagi head-on. He hastily raised his arms to defend, but the power forced him backward, step by step, inexorably toward the black hole.

What lay within a black hole?

No one knew.

Yes, no one truly knew what resided inside a black hole. Perhaps temporal chaos, perhaps cosmic storms, or perhaps only...

Nothingness.

Yes, nothingness. In the literal sense—a state where nothing exists at all. Noah was born as the first light from nothingness, and with him, the original darkness. From the void emerged both light and darkness, and the void itself was utter absence. Not even Zagi—nor even Noah—could enter and expect to return; to plunge into such emptiness was to be erased, utterly and completely.

“It’s not over yet...” Zagi roared. The black hole was a dead end—anyone knew that. He refused to be destroyed, to bet his existence on the slim chance of a temporal eddy whisking him away. If such an eddy did occur, it would scatter him into some unknown dimension, and more importantly, his powers would be severely diminished—a prospect he could not accept.

“I, Zagi, am the mightiest demon god of darkness! Just wait—I will find both ultimate powers of darkness. I will be reborn! Wait for me, wait for my return—wait for me to annihilate that damned Nebula M78, to destroy the universe you protect!”

Zagi’s voice grew wild, nearly deranged. Purple-black energy crackled at his fingertips as, with grim resolve, he plunged all five fingers into his own energy core at his chest.

Cracks raced across his streamlined body; black and crimson light seeped and raced through them.

Noah, alarmed, shouted, “Zagi!”

Zagi’s body exploded in a burst of energy—countless specks of darkness scattering, propelled by the blast, fleeing at breakneck speed toward the distant galaxies, vanishing into the cosmos. Yet these were only a fraction; the majority were sucked into the black hole, disappearing without a trace.

Noah gazed long at the spot where Zagi had vanished, then cast a lingering glance over the beautiful expanse of the universe behind him. As if making a final decision, he wrapped himself in the Wings of Noah, his form dissolving into silvery motes of light. These, too, broke apart and scattered, trailing after the dark specks left by Zagi.

Some of their lights, too, drifted into the black hole.

In the silent universe, only the black hole remained, witness to the clash of two ultimate powers.

Meanwhile, in the Land of Light, the great defensive war drew to an end. Only a few scattered monsters remained, swiftly being dispatched by the Red Clan Ultra Warriors.

Kain looked at the ruins before him, the cries of wounded Ultramen reaching his ears. He shook his head in sorrow. This war, for them, was a pyrrhic victory.

“How about this, Kain? Pretty nice tail-scythe, isn’t it? I wrenched it right off that monster myself!” Jake boasted, waving the sharp appendage with satisfaction.

Kain shook his head, his voice heavy with grief. “This war was simply too brutal...”

“Ah, Kain, you’re always so soft-hearted. War always means casualties,” Jake replied, clapping his brother on the shoulder, unconcerned.

Kain said nothing more. His brother had always been this way—showing little regard for the fate of their fellow Ultramen. Just now, a Red Clan warrior had even reported to him that Jake’s methods in battle were excessively brutal, to the point of disturbing even seasoned warriors.

Dear brother, do you not realize that your cruelty and arrogance are what drive everyone away from you? Kain thought silently. But he kept his words to himself; such talk would only anger Jake and never change him.

Ruthless, solitary, extreme, and proud—these traits seemed carved into Jake’s very being. He was the strongest Ultra Warrior of the Blue Clan, the highest-ranked among them, destined to heed no counsel, not even from his own kin.

“Kain, hello...” Mary approached, greeting him. She was Jake’s wife, and also captain of the Silver Cross Corps—the medical division of the Space Defense Force, responsible for the treatment and care of Ultra Warriors and ordinary Ultramen from the Land of Light. Its members were all female, and the renowned Ultra Clinic 78 belonged to this organization.

Mary was of the Red Clan; her two braids, hanging from her head, marked her identity. She was a legendary female Ultra Warrior among the Red Clan. In the Land of Light, there were four great clans: the Red Clan, famed for their combat prowess; the Silver Clan, for their wisdom; the White Clan, for their leadership; and the Blue Clan, tasked with construction, often looked down upon by the others. For Mary, a Red Clan woman, to marry Jake of the Blue Clan had once stirred great upheaval in their society.

Just as Kain was about to respond, a sudden instinctual feeling swept over him. At that moment, all the Ultramen sensed it too, turning as one toward a single direction.

There, an elderly Ultraman stood watching them, draped in a red cloak. His eyes, unlike any other’s, were brilliant crimson, gleaming with a wisdom that seemed to pierce all things. His beard was far fuller than Kain’s, and his shoulders bore immense armor, a large red medal gleaming at his waist. At his arrival, a warm and healing light flooded the Land of Light. Though old, he was as imposing as a range of endless mountains, compelling all Ultramen to look up at him, to revere him as a god.

He was but an old man residing on the King Star, yet he was none other than the King of Ultra.

As he appeared, music like a celestial chorus rose, soothing the souls of the Ultramen, comforting them after the destruction of their home and the loss of their loved ones.

“Warriors, citizens, compatriots of the Land of Light...” With the music as his backdrop, the King of Ultra began his speech—a stirring address that brought every Ultra Warrior to their feet, attentive to each word.

“People of the Land of Light, I am sorry—for when you faced the enemy, I did not stand by your side. I lacked the courage befitting an Ultra Warrior. I did not fight with you. You must be disappointed in me.”

Unexpectedly, the King’s opening words were self-deprecating, almost mocking himself.

But then his tone shifted; his gaze became steady and wise as he looked upon each Ultraman.

“But I am proud of you. You are the heroes of the Land of Light! As for me, I am but a lonely old man who lives on the King Star.”

Then, with another self-mocking chuckle, he added, “Hey, Old Pick, you coward—where were you while we were all fighting?”

He spread his hands and asked, “Is that what you’d say?”

“No!” came the thunderous reply from countless Ultramen.

“It’s all right. Yes, I am just an old man—just Old Pick. I couldn’t defeat that foe, so I stayed out of the war. But King Ultra would! Every young Ultraman should fight, should take part in this war of light against darkness—for peace, for the Land of Light! I am proud of you, both as Old Pick the coward and as King Ultra in my youth!”

The King of Ultra was renowned for his wisdom, his wit, and the deep devotion all Ultramen felt for him. As a child, he was called Pick Ultraman; in his youth, he became a mighty warrior, known as King Ultra. Now, after three hundred thousand years, he had returned to the name Pick, often poking fun at himself as “Old Pick” or “Pick the coward,” in his speeches.

But no Ultraman minded—for to them, the King was as a god. They never called him by name—only “the King.” Even Jake, proud as ever, stood quietly, listening with respect.

Nearby, Seven stood close to Kain, listening earnestly. Guilt weighed heavy on his heart for his own performance; he had failed to maintain the composure expected of a warrior, even wounding a comrade with his own ice axe—an act that tormented him.

“Have I grown too arrogant and complacent under my uncle’s care? Perhaps... I am not fit to join the Space Defense Force...” He glanced at Zoffy, who since losing both parents in the Great War, had remained ever calm, commanding in every crisis, always making the best decisions. In his heart, Seven resolved to improve.

Another Red Clan warrior also looked toward Zoffy. This one bore seven prominent Ultra horns on his forehead, making him distinctive. Unlike Seven’s remorse, this warrior, named Caesar Ultraman, felt some regret for not distinguishing himself in battle, but more than that, a fierce drive to compete with Zoffy. His strength was nearly equal to Zoffy’s, and both were being groomed as the next leader of the Space Defense Force—Zoffy’s strongest rival.

Amidst the Blue Clan, another powerful Ultra Warrior gazed up at the King, though his eyes flickered toward Seven. They looked alike—both bore an ice axe atop their head, though this one wore no armor. He was a formidable Blue Clan warrior who had witnessed Seven’s battle with the monsters and found little to admire, yet he looked up to Kain’s strength.

“If only I could serve under Captain Kain, I would surely grow stronger!” he thought. He suddenly realized that if he joined the Defense Force, he would be the first Blue Clan warrior in history to do so.

“Then, perhaps the annals of the Land of Light will record my name—Cupid!” he mused.

Amid the multitude of Ultramen, a young Red Clan Ultra, barely come of age, gazed at the King in awe. He had survived the great war by hiding within a building, had witnessed Noah’s power, and now, the majesty of the King of Ultra.

He murmured, half to himself, “Strong... so strong...”

His name was Belial Ultraman—a name known to many Red Clan warriors, who remembered him as the boy who would chase them, always urging the strong to display their abilities. Affectionately, they called him “Al.”

But now, Belial longed to grow, to become powerful.

“Still... this name is too childish. Before I become truly strong, I need a more fitting one.” He pondered, then, delighted, decided, “I’ll drop the ‘Al’... Belia... Belia... Belial Ultraman! What a commanding name!”

Author’s Note: Only one chapter today—over four thousand words—because it’s rare to feature so many Ultramen at once. I’ve tried to introduce any who might appear later, including some perhaps unfamiliar to readers. Feel free to look them up, and if you enjoy the story, please vote and bookmark—it’s my greatest motivation!

Chapter Explanations:

1. I am not fully familiar with the King of Ultra’s personality, so I’ve taken some creative liberty. I imagine him as wise but not severe—a warm, loving elder, a king of unmatched wisdom.
2. Mary Ultraman, according to my research, is indeed Jake’s wife—perhaps surprising, even to me. But I chose to keep this aspect.
3. The King of Ultra has many names, just as the Father of Ultra does (Ken, Kane, etc.). I’ve chosen both Pick and King as his names here.
4. The King of Ultra’s entrance is accompanied by his own theme music—this is not a joke, but a part of the power system. At a certain level, one’s appearance is marked by their own BGM; the King is the only one for whom this applies. Noah and Zagi, though even more powerful in combat, do not have this because their rank is not measured solely by strength, but by the level of their evolution. The King is of the Silver Clan, yet possesses even greater leadership than the White Clan. This is my own setting—under his guidance, the White and Silver Clans have grown inseparable.
5. Belial Ultraman is also called “Belial” (Belial), which I set as his childhood name. This war is set just after he comes of age.
6. Edited on 10/23.