The throne hall of the Seven Crowns cracked like an eggshell under the weight of the Abyss.
KRNNNN—CHHHH—!
Black fissures spider-webbed across the marble floor, glowing with a pulse that felt disturbingly alive—like veins beneath skin.
Kael stood at the center of it all.
But it wasn't Kael anymore.
The figure rising from the fractures was a silhouette sculpted from midnight, his spine crowned with serpent-shadows that hissed in discordant harmony. Behind him, the enormous white tiger materialized with a low, earthquake-deep rumble. Its stripes shimmered like constellations being violently rewritten.
The Seven Crowns—archons who once ruled the continent with casual omnipotence—leaned back instinctively, as if gravity itself pushed them away.
For the first time in millennia, fear remembered their names.
A Serpent wrapped lazily around Kael's shoulders, its eyes glowing like three cold moons.
"Move," one of the Crowns barked, trying to keep authority in his voice.
Kael didn't. The darkness around him thickened, folding into a cloak that breathed with its own hunger.
Veyra stormed in from behind him, thorns bristling, hair lifted by an unseen storm.
"You cornered him for the last time," she announced, every syllable vibrating like metal dragged across stone.
On the opposite side, Lirien appeared—her bare feet touching the broken marble, glowing with quiet radiance that softened the shadows around her.
"He's not alone anymore," she murmured, fingers trembling with power still half-wild from the Fruit's dream.
From the high terrace, Crown Lumeris flicked her fingers dismissively.
"You believe this… creature can threaten us?" she scoffed, though her pupils had shrunken to frightened pinpricks.
Kael lifted his head.
The hood fell back.
A tide of silence crashed through the hall—one so thick and unnatural it felt like the world had forgotten sound entirely.
Then the Abyss exhaled.
WHOOOOM—!!!
Air bent. Space stuttered. Torches guttered out like snuffed candles.
Shadow-serpents lunged outward in a synchronized strike.
One wrapped itself around Crown Vathros, slamming him into a pillar.
Another coiled through the air like a thrown blade, slicing a glowing glyph in half before it could activate.
The third hovered near Kael's ear, whispering something only he could hear.
Veyra moved first.
"Don't hold back this time," she growled, thorn-vines erupting from her forearms, lashing toward the Crowns like living whips.
"I wasn't planning to," Kael replied, voice carrying an echo—his overlapped with something deeper, older, impossibly vast.
Lirien extended her hand.
"Kael… careful," she pleaded, her glow dimming as the Abyss' pull brushed her skin.
"He's still in there. I can hear him—just beneath the storm."
A Crown retaliated, slamming his staff into the ground.
"Submit!" he demanded, releasing a shockwave of gilded force.
The white tiger leapt.
THRUM—BOOM!
The shockwave shattered around its body, harmless as mist. The beast landed atop the Crown, pinning him with a growl sharp enough to peel steel.
Another Crown attempted to flee.
He didn't get far.
Serpent-shadows curled around his ankles, dragging him back across the floor. He clawed at the marble, screaming.
Kael barely glanced at him.
"You wanted the Abyss opened," he replied softly—almost too softly.
A whisper, yet it struck like a sentence.
"Now drown in it."
The Crown screeched again—this time in prayer, in denial, in something close to begging.
But something even stranger happened.
The darkness didn't consume him.
It paused.
Hesitated.
As if waiting… for Kael's permission.
Lirien exhaled sharply.
"He's controlling it…" she announced, awe threading through her voice.
"He's actually controlling it."
A Crown near the throne trembled violently.
"Impossible…" he mumbled, sweat pouring down his temples.
"No mortal—no vessel—should… should…"
Veyra's thorns rooted into the floor as she advanced.
"He's not your vessel," she spat.
"He's ours."
Kael stepped forward.
The floor cracked under his heel—CRK—KRRK——as Abyssal patterns bloomed beneath him, drawing a starless mandala.
"I warned you once," he murmured, his shadow stretching to swallow the steps before the throne.
"If you touch anyone I love—"
The serpents reared.
The tiger's eyes burned brighter.
The Abyss behind him unfolded like wings.
"—I become something you cannot kill."
The Seven Crowns—immortal tyrants who had never known defeat—finally reacted with the only thing left to them.
They panicked.
"RETREAT!" one of them hollered, voice cracking.
Too late.
Kael lifted a hand.
The hall went dark—utterly, perfectly dark—
a darkness that wasn't absence but presence, thick as breath, warm as skin, alive as a heartbeat.
The Abyss didn't open this time.
It embraced.
And the Seven Crowns finally understood the meaning of fear.