It was all quiet and silence. Everyone woke up and found themselves on the ground, their heads pounding with pain, their bodies drained and carved of energy. Somewhere in the castle, Trail walked toward the historic archive with the massive doors carved from gold. He opened them and stepped into the room.
He was instantly surrounded by the vastness of the chamber. Gold shimmered everywhere, piled like ordinary silver coins, but that was not what caught his attention. He walked toward the far end of the room, where hundreds of pillars stood tall, lining the area with precision and majesty. In the very center, resting atop a small pedestal the size of a hand, lay a tiny chest. He picked it up. It had no visible key, but Trail noticed a small piece of something attached to a letter. With careful hands, he used it, and the chest opened effortlessly.
Inside rested a black, shiny stone. It was smooth and cold, but it radiated no energy at all. Trail's eyes sharpened as he examined it. "The Black Stone… the second strongest thing in the entire world," he muttered under his breath. "So this was what the Darkness so eagerly wanted? But how did you know all of this, Leon? And yet… in the end, it's just a fake one…"
17 Years Before
[The Birth of a New King]
Leon Zack Castus
The son of King Zack. Castus, who could never ascend the throne because of his frail health, had already passed away. He had been weak all his life, barely able to walk, confined to his bed, and it was always his hope that he might recover and lead. For countless years, the city had lived without a king, waiting and hoping that one day Castus would rise to lead them. But thirty years after King Zack's death, Castus also passed away, leaving behind his wife and their son, Leon.
The castle stood beautiful and imposing. Some people cried in sorrow, mourning the past, while others smiled faintly, remembering their prestigious King Zack, who had died in the war between Darkness and humans. The city gleamed under the bright sunshine, the castle walls entwined with thriving plants, flowers blooming with a sense of pride and dignity.
The preparations were massive. Every commander, every faithful leader, and every loyal servant gathered. The castle was alive with anticipation. Yet, the night before the grand ceremony, a man with his face hidden had been listening outside a giant room, hearing the plotting within.
A deep, chilling voice echoed: "It's simple. Let's kill the king's boy. The authority will be ours. We will replace him with someone of the same identity…"
The man stepped forward silently, walking through the king's chambers, where he found a baby crying. Its eyes were beautiful, filled with life and innocence. Suddenly, the doors burst open, and soldiers rushed in. But to everyone's surprise, there was nothing—no child. The conspirators froze, shocked at the empty room. Moments later, they produced a boy: Leon. He appeared to be around eighteen, though no one had seen the king's son for countless years. They would believe anything they were shown.
The crowd erupted in celebration, their voices echoing across the city. At long last, their new king had arrived. Leon, pale and pressured beneath the weight of the crown on his head, stood uncertain, but the people's chants of "King! King!" filled the streets. Flowers decorated the palace lines, their fresh scent mingling with the warm sunlight, the city radiating beauty and hope.
Far from the city, the man carrying the baby—his face partially hidden, only a beard visible—kept moving. Within the folds of the baby's clothing rested a locket containing a black stone. He knew the significance of what he carried, closed it carefully, and let it remain as it was. Eventually, he reached a small village and met a woman who invited him into her home.
The man spoke gently: "This child… he is hungry. Do you have milk?"
The lady handed him milk, and he carefully placed the sleeping baby in her arms. "Where are you going?" she asked softly. "And what is your name?"
The man paused briefly, then replied without looking back: "Smith. My name is Smith." He left the house, disappearing into the distance, never to return, because he had other tasks, other duties to fulfill elsewhere.
Meanwhile, in the castle, the king sat on his throne, surrounded by shelves filled with knowledge. He approached a book unlike any ordinary text; only a chosen few were allowed to read it. Opening the first page, he saw hand-drawn art: a man wielding a sword, fighting a shadow with wings. As he turned the pages, more images appeared—dragons, mystical beings, and cryptic writings that spoke of the Blind Saga and the Whispering of Thrives. His mind began to twist, becoming more restless and mad with every drawing, every word. One truth became horrifyingly clear to him: he would be killed. Unable to withstand the revelation, he closed the book, his mind heavy with foreboding.
Back in the present, Trail stood observing the fake stone, lost in thought. From behind, Luxorious appeared silently.
"What are you doing?" Luxorious asked coldly, his voice sharp.
Trail sighed. "Nothing… just looking at a fake piece of rock." He handed the stone to Luxorious, who examined it carefully.
"A piece of rock?" Luxorious said, his voice edged with disbelief. "So this is what the Darkness has been searching for?"
"Exactly," Trail replied. "But the thing is, this stone is fake. Meaning, the Darkness will not actually come here."
Luxorious frowned, his sharp eyes narrowing. "Then why did it attack, even after we won that war?"
"Maybe… because there was a presence," Trail said thoughtfully. "A strong presence that lasted long enough to make the Darkness believe the Black Stone was here."
Luxorious considered this. "Then… how many stones exist in total?"
Trail's eyes narrowed, and he spoke with quiet intensity: "Only one… TRAIL SMITH!!!"
At that moment, both of them turned their heads sharply, and there, they saw Eagle the higher up raged and boiled with anger.