The corridor outside the Spire's throne room shook.
Vorn stood like a mountain of pitted steel, his massive shield slammed into the black crystal floor. Behind him, the three orphans huddled. They were shaking.
The elevator doors at the far end of the hall hissed open.
It wasn't just guards. It was a suffocation. The pressure in the hallway dropped, making it hard to breathe.
Two figures emerged.
The first was a woman draped in silk bandages that drifted like tentacles—Vespera, the Executive of Whispers. The second was a towering brute with skin like cracked magma, dragging a hammer made of bone—Gorath, the Executive of Ruin.
"A broken knight and three rats," Vespera hissed. She didn't walk; she floated an inch off the ground. "Kaelus fell to this?"
"He fell to a King," Vorn rumbled, though sweat was already beading on his forehead from the pressure. "I am merely the wall you will break against."
Gorath laughed, a deep, wet sound. "I like breaking walls."
He charged. He moved with terrifying speed for his size, closing the distance in a heartbeat.
BOOM.
The bone hammer slammed into Vorn's shield. The impact was cataclysmic. The shockwave didn't just break the windows; it threw the three children backward like ragdolls.
Kael hit the wall hard, gasping as the wind left his lungs. Rian tumbled across the floor, scraping his arms raw. Elara dropped her sharpened pipe, covering her ears against the ringing sound.
"Get up!" Vorn roared, straining against Gorath's strength. The Commander's boots were carving deep grooves into the crystal floor as he was pushed back. "They will not wait for you!"
Vespera smiled. She flicked a finger. "Die, vermin."
A volley of void needles shot toward the children.
"Move!" Kael screamed. He tried to scramble away, his lanky limbs flailing, but he tripped over Rian. They were clumsy, terrified, and completely out of sync.
Zip. Zip.
A needle sliced Kael's cheek, opening a gash. Another buried itself in Rian's thigh.
Rian screamed, clutching his leg. "I can't! It hurts!"
Elara tried to throw a piece of scrap metal at Vespera—a desperate, makeshift arrow—but her hands were shaking so badly the metal clattered harmlessly to the floor ten feet away.
Vespera laughed. "Pathetic. Malakor was worried about this?"
She raised her hand, summoning a larger spear of shadow. She aimed it directly at Elara, who was frozen in fear.
"No!" Rian yelled.
The stocky boy didn't think. He didn't have a plan. He just saw his friend about to die. Rian scrambled forward, limping on his bad leg, and threw his body in front of Elara.
He squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for death.
CLANG.
The sound wasn't flesh tearing. It was stone chipping.
Rian opened his eyes. The shadow spear had shattered against his shoulder. His skin, where the needle struck, had turned a dull, heavy grey. Stone Skin. He didn't know the name, but he felt the sudden, crushing weight of rock protecting him. It wasn't diamond yet, just rough, ugly rock, but it had saved him.
"What?" Vespera narrowed her eyes. "An awakened?"
Taking advantage of the distraction, Kael scrambled up. The pain in his face made his vision blur, but the adrenaline triggered something else. Kael's lanky body suddenly felt lighter than ash. Adrenaline mixed with a strange power coursing through his veins. His limbs unhinged, transforming his run into a quicksilver slither. His movements became rubber-free.
Assassin's Agility.
Kael moved. He didn't run; he slithered, his body contorting unnaturally to avoid a follow-up needle from Vespera. He lunged, stabbing his pipe toward Vespera's floating leg.
He missed by an inch, but he forced her to float higher.
"We can't hit them!" Elara cried, scrambling back. She needed distance. She grabbed a handful of dust and debris from the floor. She wanted to hide. She wanted to disappear, it wasn't just a thought, it was her bending her own will and that of the world around her, this very act allowed the power sealed within her to open, with a form of itch around her palm, something not nartually came out of her hands.
WHOOSH.
Dark smoke erupted from her hands—not just dust, but a thick, magical Shadow Fog. It enveloped the hallway, blinding Vespera.
"I can't see!" Vespera shrieked, firing wildly into the smoke.
"Now!" Vorn roared.
The Commander was bleeding from the nose. Holding back Gorath was tearing his muscles apart. He needed to end this standoff before the children were slaughtered.
Vorn looked at the King's Stone on his gauntlet. It was pulsing violently, eating away at his life essence, demanding to be used.
"I am the shield!" Vorn screamed.
He released the lock.
A blast of pure, golden kinetic energy exploded from Vorn's shield. It caught Gorath mid-swing. The massive Executive was launched backward, crashing into Vespera.
The two enemies tumbled down the elevator shaft, their screams fading into the dark.
Vorn collapsed to one knee, coughing up blood. The golden light faded, leaving him grey and trembling.
The hallway was silent, save for the heavy breathing of the children.
Rian's stone skin faded, leaving him bruised and bleeding. Kael was clutching his sliced face. Elara was staring at her hands, which were stained with soot.
They were alive. But they were broken, bleeding, and terrified.
"Is... is that what war is?" Elara whispered, her voice shaking.
Vorn looked up, wiping blood from his chin. He looked at Rian's bruised shoulder, Kael's bloody face, and Elara's terror.
"That," Vorn rasped, "was the beginning. Bind your wounds. If you want to live, you learn to bleed without stopping."
Inside the Throne Room.
The heavy obsidian doors slammed shut behind Zoran, severing the sounds of Vorn's battle.
The silence here was heavy. It pressed against the eardrums, vibrating with the hum of the Edict. The room was a cavern of black crystal, open to the swirling purple sky above.
In the center, Queen Eliana hung suspended in a cage of crackling violet lightning. Her eyes were rolled back, her mouth open in a silent scream as strings of silver light were slowly pulled from her temples.
Malakor stood before her. He held the Edict of Solmir in one hand, using it like a needle to stitch the stolen code into the air.
"Your friends are loud," Malakor observed without turning around. "But noise is not strength."
Zoran stood amidst the wreckage of the Void Sentinels. His chest heaved. The rebound from his overuse of Celestial Instinct felt like a hot nail driven between his eyes. Every heartbeat was a throb of pain.
"Let her go," Zoran rasped, raising his Stariron sword.
Malakor turned slowly. His porcelain mask was flawless, betraying no emotion, but his voice dripped with amusement.
"You act as if you are in a position to negotiate," Malakor said, walking down the steps of the dais. "You are a battery, Zoran. A leaking, AA battery trying to fight a thunderstorm."
Zoran didn't wait. He flared his Golden Aura, pushing through the pain.
Flowing Steps.
He moved. A blur of motion aimed straight for Malakor's throat.
Clang.
Zoran's sword hit nothing but air.
Malakor had vanished.
Zoran's Celestial Instinct screamed—BEHIND!
Zoran spun, ducking instinctively. A fist made of concentrated gravity occupied the space where his head had been a microsecond ago. The air cracked from the force of the displacement.
Malakor was there, casually adjusting his cuff. "Good reflexes. For a mammal."
Zoran slashed upward, channeling Rage. Red lightning coated his blade.
Malakor didn't use magic. He didn't block. He simply stepped inside Zoran's guard, moving faster than the eye could track—Shadow Teleportation.
He placed a gloved hand on Zoran's chest.
Void Push.
There was no sound. Just force.
Zoran was launched across the room like a ragdoll. He smashed through a stone pillar, the impact crumbling the masonry, and hit the far wall with a wet thud.
Zoran slid to the floor, gasping. His ribs felt like they were on fire. He coughed, and blood splattered onto the black crystal floor.
"Stand up," Malakor commanded softly.
Zoran groaned, forcing his trembling legs to work. Super strength, he realized. Malakor wasn't just a mage; physically, he was a monster.
"Why do you fight for him?" Malakor mused, tilting his head. "Avelon Kai. He failed you, Zoran. He died and left you in the garbage to rot."
"He... saved us," Zoran wheezed, wiping his chin.
"He saved his pride," Malakor corrected, his voice twisting, sounding reasonable, almost paternal. "And your mother? She knew I was coming. She could have given me the Edict code years ago. She chose to keep a secret rather than keep you safe. They sacrificed you, Zoran."
"Shut... up!"
Zoran roared, letting the Rage take the wheel. He charged again, a berserker of red lightning and steel. He slashed high, feinted low, and thrust for the heart.
Malakor dodged with his hands behind his back. Left. Right. Step back. He was playing with Zoran.
"Too slow," Malakor noted. "Too angry. Emotion makes you predictable."
Malakor caught Zoran's Stariron blade between his thumb and forefinger. The red lightning sizzled against his skin, but Malakor didn't flinch. He leaned in close.
"Sleep."
Psychological Trap: The Void Prison.
Zoran's vision went black.
Suddenly, the Throne Room was gone. The pain in his ribs was gone.
Zoran was floating in an infinite, dark ocean. It was quiet. It was warm.
This is peace, Malakor's voice whispered, echoing from everywhere. No more fighting. No more running. You have been tired for so long, little Prince. Seven years of fear. Seven years of pain. Just let go.
The urge to surrender was overwhelming. It felt like sinking into a soft bed after a long hunt. Why was he fighting? Malakor was right. He was just a boy with a broken sword.
Stay here, the Void whispered. It is safe here.
Zoran's eyes began to close in the darkness. His heart rate slowed.
Zoran...
A faint pulse beat against the darkness. Not Malakor.
My fire...
It was the Celestial Heart. Deep in his chest, the aspect of Fear—the one he had conquered in the Goddess's trial—screamed. Fear was not weakness. Fear was a warning. If you sleep, she dies.
Zoran's eyes snapped open in the real world.
Celestial Instinct: Clarity.
"Get out of my head!" Zoran roared.
He didn't pull his sword back. He drove his forehead forward.
CRACK.
A headbutt. Raw, brutal, and completely undisciplined.
Malakor stumbled back, releasing the blade. A spiderweb fracture ran down the left side of his porcelain mask.
The room went deadly silent.
Malakor reached up, touching the crack. He looked at his fingers. There was no blood, but there was genuine shock.
"You..." Malakor's voice lost its smooth, charismatic charm. It dropped an octave, becoming something ancient and grinding. He touched the fracture. "You damaged the veil."
Zoran stood panting, his Golden Aura flaring to push back the mental pressure. His nose was bleeding, his armor was dented, but he was still standing.
"I told you," Zoran spat, raising his sword again. "I am not my father. And I am not done."
Malakor lowered his hand. The air in the room turned heavy. The gravity increased, cracking the floor tiles. The playful god was gone.
"Playtime is over," Malakor whispered.
He raised both hands. The shadows in the room detached from the walls, forming a thousand razor-sharp spears.
"Now," Malakor said. "You die."