Return of the Forsaken.
Ray's unconscious state brought panic among his followers.
Whispers of doubt and uncertainty spread across the crowd.
Fear, reverence, and hope all mingled in the air.
Some feared what Ray had become.
Some were uncertain if he would ever be the same.
But for others… it only proved how strong their king truly was.
Their unity and faith began to crumble.
But then, Falker stepped forward.
"My fellow people," he called out, his voice steady despite the tension.
"Our king fought an army by himself — for us.
He never left us to die. He ended up like this because of us — because we were weak."
"Does it matter what he is?
Even if he's the devil himself, he is still our king — the one who saved us and gave us purpose.
He led us to this path… the path of liberation and reckoning.
A path that brought light to our despair."
He paused, his voice deepening, eyes blazing with loyalty.
"So tell me… if he is not our god, then who is?
The ones who just watched us drown in despair?
Or the ones who made us feel despair?
Then I'd rather stand with the devil.
To me, it doesn't matter whether he's an angel or a devil — he is my king."
He stepped back, his words lingering like a vow in the air.
For a moment, silence ruled.
Then, the whispers began — soft, trembling.
"Our king… our king…"
Fear and doubt washed away, replaced by unity — by faith.
But they didn't know… his fight was still not over.
Ray was battling a war they couldn't see — one that raged within his inner world.
---
### **The Inner World**
He was no longer sitting on a throne.
This time, he was kneeling. His body felt heavy.
He was surrounded by what looked like the interior of a grand castle — majestic and divine.
A throne stood high above, glowing with silver light.
A figure approached and sat upon it.
His eyes shone white and blinding — divine, yet cold.
It was as if a god had descended.
The figure's voice rolled through the vast chamber, deep and domineering.
"How loyal your subjects are. Even in your fall, they still follow you."
His eyes narrowed, unable to hide the envy and hatred burning within.
A cruel grin twisted his lips.
"Let's see if you'll still stay silent when your followers writhe in pain."
His grin deepened. "How satisfying it would be to hear ####'s loyal subjects scream."
Ray couldn't grasp the name. It was as if the world itself refused to let him hear it.
At the entity's signal, his subordinates dragged a man forward.
The captive's eyes were fierce, his body scarred but strong — a warrior.
Ray could feel it instinctively: even the silver figure's subordinate was stronger than him.
Two of them began slashing at the captive, carefully avoiding fatal wounds.
Their swords drew no blood at first.
Then they summoned their aura — a dark blue energy that distorted the very air.
Even Ray's aura, tainted by void, was nowhere near as terrifying.
Steel tore into flesh again and again, but the man never screamed.
He bit his lip until it bled.
And then, through clenched teeth, he shouted:
"Our king will return!"
His eyes burned with faith and determination.
Ray felt his chest tighten.
He didn't know why, but rage flared inside him — deep and consuming.
The silver figure laughed, his voice echoing through the hall like thunder.
But the man smiled through the pain.
"Laugh all you want. His return will make the world tremble.
Your days of laughter are numbered."
The silver figure's laughter stopped. He pointed at Ray.
"Is that the king you're talking about?" he asked mockingly.
The man's eyes widened when he saw Ray.
The figure sneered.
"He will not return. He has forsaken his subjects."
The man spat blood and replied,
"Our king will never forget his subjects."
The silver figure's fury ignited.
Light flared around him — violent, blinding.
With a roar, he slashed off the man's head.
It rolled across the floor like a stone.
Even in death, the man's face still wore a faint smile.
Rage consumed Ray.
He wanted to move, to strike — but he was only watching, trapped in another's vision.
Black particles surged from the shadow's body.
Violet lightning crackled through the darkness.
The figure — the one Ray was seeing through — rose from the ground, shrouded in mist and shadow.
His eyes, once crimson and swirling with mist, darkened — deep and endless, as if merging with the abyss itself.
He looked like death itself — a reaper born of rage.
The shadows around him converged, forming a blade of pure black energy streaked with violet light.
Its presence alone made the entire world tremble.
The silver entity frowned, fear flashing in his eyes.
He raised a hand, conjuring a sphere of pure light.
The two forces collided — shadow and light — the impact shaking the heavens.
For Ray, the world seemed to stop.
Then the silver figure was thrown back, his throne split in two by a single slash.
The next strike shattered the palace itself.
The silver figure roared in disbelief.
"But how? You were poisoned by Ravenite! How are you still this strong?"
The shadow said nothing. But with eyes that seemed as deep as the abyss, he looked down on the silver entity like a predator watching its prey.
The silver figure trembled, voice breaking.
"I should've known… when those geezers refused to help!"
He lunged forward, light gathering in his palms — brighter than ever.
Shadow and light — two opposing forces — collided, their clash cracking the ground, the world itself trembling under their power.
But soon, the silver glow began to fade, engulfed by the spreading black mist and devoured by the dark blade.
With a single slash, the silver entity was thrown to the ground.
'Ray, who had thought of the silver entity as a being so powerful and godlike that defeating it seemed impossible, saw it fall — defeated by this person shrouded in shadow, and with such ease.
He was speechless, a mix of shock and curiosity rising within him.
'who is this person?' he wondered.
The palace dimmed, its divine radiance was swallowed whole, absorbed into the dark blade.
Before the silver entity could rise, the shadow moved — faster than thought — and appeared before the fallen god.
His black sword pointed at the enemy's throat, shimmering with black mist as if desperate to taste blood.
The silver entity's eyes widened in terror.
He trembled, realizing what stood before him.
Then the shadow spoke — his voice divine, resonant, absolute.
"This is the end… for you, and for me.
But I shall return — for the reckoning"
The darkness engulfed the light — and the godly figure within it.
Slowly, it condensed into a single orb, glowing white before turning black.
Then, it took form — a ring laced with violet threads that shimmered like living amethyst.
It was a ring born from divine authority.
And as Ray watched, realization struck him — the ring was the same one he carried.
The ring that Mimir had given him.
The shadow approached the fallen man — his loyal subject.
He lifted the severed head gently, the faint smile still carved into its face.
Ray felt everything — sorrow, rage, reverence — as if they were his own.
The shadow placed the head beside the body and slid the ring onto the man's hand.
Black energy surged around the corpse, wrapping it in darkness.
The man's body began to stir… coming back to life.
But then, Ray's consciousness began to fade.
When he opened his eyes again, he was surrounded by endless darkness.
No sound. No warmth.
Only an abyss — as endless and empty as the void.
His senses numbed, fading one by one.
Then… a light appeared.
From that light stepped forth the same entity that had once possessed him in battle — the being that had emerged from the ring.
But now, his face was different.
It bore the features of the man who had died for his king — the one Ray had watched fall before his eyes.
The figure knelt before him.
Its voice echoed softly through the darkness.
"We await your return… our king."
End of Chapter 9