Ultraman: It turns out this is the easy mode.

While Cui Ming was busy adjusting the aiming system of the Pauls anti-aircraft gun in the Tiga world, repeatedly deducing in his mind how the "Nexus-on-Tiga skin" could deceive the ancient monsters, far away in the universe where the Land of Light was located, in the dark castle of the Alien Empera, a "low pressure" was spreading, which even dimmed the candle-like dark energy - the restlessness in the air was so strong that it could almost solidify, and even the passing soldiers walked on tiptoe, for fear of angering the one on the throne.

The Alien Empera, his once upright back gone, slumped on the obsidian throne, a symbol of dark power, his weapon, which he always gripped tightly, lying carelessly at his feet. His head hung low, his fingertips tapping unconsciously on the cold armrests, making a soft "tap, tap, tap" sound, as if counting down the days without an opponent. His once imposing gaze, capable of making galaxies tremble, was now veiled by an inescapable weariness, as he muttered to himself, "Sigh, why did Storm One have to go to another world? I specifically changed the 'battle time' every night from midnight to his usual evening, and now he's gone."

As soon as he finished speaking, he waved his left hand irritably, and the dark energy around him instantly stirred up a small vortex. Several pieces of stone fell from the stone pillar carved with skull patterns next to the throne with a "crack"—since Cui Ming (Storm One) went to the Tiga world and he could no longer fight fiercely in the dream as usual, this dark emperor had unexpectedly experienced "combat withdrawal." In the past, fighting Cui Ming every day was his most enjoyable thing: he could vent his accumulated dark battle power and enjoy the thrill of "meeting a worthy opponent." Even if he lost occasionally, he could think about how to turn the tables next time. But now that Cui Ming was gone, looking at the entire universe, there were either soft persimmons that would collapse at the slightest touch or rats who only knew how to use dirty tricks. He couldn't even find an opponent that could arouse his interest. He was like a person whose energy and spirit had been drained, and even his posture had lost its former majesty.

“Storm One.” Alien Empera murmured the name again, his tone tinged with a hint of “grievance” that he himself was unaware of, like a child who had lost his beloved toy, his fingers unconsciously picking at the texture of the armrest.

"."*3
The Mefilas alien, Desrem, and Grozam, standing on the steps below, looked at each other with undisguised helplessness in their eyes—their emperor had been in this dispirited state for four or five days, and even the original battle plan to "attack the outpost of the Land of Light" had been abandoned and left to gather dust.

"How long will Your Majesty continue like this?" The Mefilas alien quietly touched Grozam beside him through mental communication, deliberately softening even his mental fluctuations, for fear of irritating His Majesty.

“It’s been like this ever since Storm One left. I just passed by the throne and heard His Majesty complaining to the Weapon, ‘No one’s here to fight with, even the Weapon is so powerful it’s become boring.’” Grozam sighed and responded in kind, his tone full of amusement and exasperation. “Yesterday he asked me to make a list of all the monsters in the universe that could be fought, but he just glanced at it and threw it away, saying, ‘None of them can compare to Storm One.’”

“Yeah, that’s right. His Majesty has become like this ever since Storm One went to other worlds.” Desrem joined in the mental exchange and couldn’t help but complain, “I used to think His Majesty was a dark emperor who was cold to the bone, but now he’s like a child who has lost his playmate. The contrast is too big. Last time, he even scolded the chef because the cafeteria didn’t make ‘Storm One’s favorite spicy energy cubes’.”

The Mefilas alien nodded slightly, glancing at Emperor on the throne with a complex expression, and said through mental power, "To be honest, although Storm One is our enemy, we must admit that he is indeed a 'good opponent.'" He paused, carefully choosing his words, "He can make His Majesty willing to go all out, and he can also let us subordinates see a real 'confrontation'—unlike other aliens, who either run away when they can't win, or only use tricks and schemes, and even when they win, they feel it's meaningless."

"What a pity. Storm One looks very busy. I heard from the intelligence department that he'll be staying in that world called Tiga for more than a month." Grozam shook his head, his tone inexplicably tinged with regret, as if lamenting that "the exciting battles will be interrupted for a month." His fingers unconsciously rubbed his ice blade.

At that moment, a thought suddenly popped into Desrem's mind, and he couldn't help but mutter to himself in their telepathic communication: "Will Storm One be in danger in other worlds? What's in that world? What if it gets ambushed?"

The words had barely left his lips when Mefilas and Grozam simultaneously retorted with their mental powers—"What a joke!" Their mental fluctuations were remarkably synchronized. "The only ones capable of defeating Storm One are our Emperor, or us old rivals who have fought him for years! Guys from other worlds can at best fight our lowly soldiers; do they even deserve to touch him? If they dare to actually harm Storm One, we'll be the first to lead our troops to the Ultraman Tiga world to 'demand justice'!"

The Alien Empera on the throne seemed to sense the telepathic communication between his subordinates. He abruptly raised his head, his dark energy surging instantly, and his previously dim eyes brightened. His tone carried an undeniable command: "What are you all standing there for! Go and find out! When exactly is Storm One returning from that Ultraman Tiga world? I'm waiting to fight him! If he's too late and gets disturbed by those monstrous monsters, I won't forgive you!"

"Yes, Your Majesty!" The three quickly bowed and responded, then turned and hurriedly ran towards the intelligence room, their steps even faster than usual.

After running out the door, Grozam couldn't help but sigh and said to the other two through telepathy, "I hope Storm One can come back soon. Otherwise, His Majesty's 'withdrawal symptoms' might escalate, and then we'll all have to stay with him and 'stare blankly'."

The Mefilas alien nodded, a hint of emotion in his eyes: "To be honest, we can understand His Majesty's situation—after all, it's not easy to find an opponent you never get tired of fighting. But why is Storm One so busy? Couldn't he stay a few more days before leaving?"

Desrem sighed, "Who says otherwise? If Storm One were here, His Majesty wouldn't be so bored, and we wouldn't have to watch him 'sighing' every day."

The three walked along, exchanging mental messages and grumbling amongst themselves, all secretly hoping that Cui Ming (Storm One) would finish things up in the Ultraman Tiga world soon and return quickly—not for any other reason than to allow their Emperor to return to "normal" and for the "low-pressure" atmosphere in the Dark Castle to dissipate as soon as possible. (End of Chapter)