The world had three years left.
Nobody questioned Astra’s words.
Not Draven.
Not the First King.
Not even the Church priest.
That terrified Kael more than anything else.
Because if people like them accepted that statement without hesitation…
Then it wasn’t a prophecy.
It was a countdown.
The underground station had become silent.
Only the distant rumble of collapsing tunnels echoed through the darkness.
Draven looked toward the northern passage.
“We leave.”
Kael didn’t move.
“I still have questions.”
“You always will.”
Draven’s answer was cold.
“If you stop every time you don’t understand something…”
He looked Kael directly in the eyes.
“…you’ll die before finding the truth.”
The words stung.
But Kael couldn’t deny them.
The First King slowly walked toward the ancient throne carved into the cavern wall.
Without looking back, he spoke.
“There are twelve Thrones.”
“You know that already.”
“But there is something nobody remembers.”
Kael frowned.
“What?”
The old king placed his hand upon the stone.
The throne trembled.
Ancient symbols illuminated the walls.
Then—
A map appeared.
Not of a kingdom.
Not of a continent.
Of the entire world.
Twelve brilliant lights surrounded it.
Each light represented one Divine Throne.
But Kael immediately noticed something strange.
There wasn’t twelve.
There was…
A thirteenth light.
Hidden.
Flickering.
Almost invisible.
“What is that?”
Silence.
The First King slowly answered.
“The Throne that history erased.”
The room became deathly quiet.
Draven looked away.
Even Astra’s calm expression changed.
For the first time…
She looked uncomfortable.
Kael’s heartbeat quickened.
“A thirteenth Throne?”
The First King nodded.
“The strongest one.”
Suddenly—
CRACK!
The tunnel ceiling exploded.
Massive rocks crashed down.
Church soldiers shouted.
“Ambush!”
Black arrows rained from the darkness.
One struck a knight in the shoulder.
Another pierced the wall beside Kael.
Masked assassins.
Completely silent.
Dressed in dark robes.
Each carried a strange silver dagger.
The priest cursed.
“The Shadow Covenant.”
Draven sighed.
“They’re already here.”
Kael frowned.
“Who are they?”
Draven drew his enormous sword.
“The people who hunt Throne Holders.”
Without another word—
He vanished.
BOOM!
The ground exploded where he had been standing.
A heartbeat later—
The first assassin flew across the cavern like a broken doll.
His body smashed into the wall with enough force to crack solid stone.
The battle had begun.
Dozens of assassins descended at once.
Their movements were impossibly fast.
Each one ignored Draven.
Ignored the First King.
Ignored Astra.
They all rushed toward Lyra.
Kael’s eyes widened.
“No!”
The symbols on his arms ignited.
Purple-black energy exploded around him.
The undead answered instantly.
Corpses burst from the ground.
Ancient soldiers.
Forgotten warriors.
Broken knights.
One by one they rose.
Standing between Lyra and the attackers.
The station became a battlefield.
Steel clashed.
Magic erupted.
The dead fought the living.
For the first time…
Kael wasn’t reacting.
He was commanding.
Every movement felt natural.
Every undead warrior responded before he even gave an order.
The First King watched silently.
A faint smile appeared beneath his hood.
“Good.”
Draven split another assassin in half with a single strike.
Without looking back he shouted—
“Death isn’t your weapon!”
Kael blocked an incoming dagger with an undead knight.
“What?”
“It’s your kingdom!”
Another explosion shook the cavern.
“The dead aren’t soldiers!”
“They’re your people!”
The words echoed through Kael’s mind.
People.
Not tools.
Not monsters.
People.
Suddenly—
Every undead warrior stopped moving.
For one brief second…
They all looked toward Kael.
Trusting.
The invisible connection between them grew stronger.
Much stronger.
A new voice echoed inside his mind.
Not thousands.
Only one.
Ancient.
Calm.
“A king protects his kingdom.”
The world froze.
Then—
A black crown made entirely of shadows briefly appeared above Kael’s head.
Only for a second.
But everyone saw it.
The assassins froze.
Draven stopped smiling.
Even Astra looked genuinely surprised.
The First King slowly closed his eyes.
“So…”
He whispered.
“It has begun.”
The remaining assassins immediately retreated.
No hesitation.
No fear.
As if completing their mission no longer mattered.
One of them looked back at Kael.
Then spoke through a metallic mask.
“The Black Crown has awakened.”
He smiled.
“Our master will be pleased.”
Before anyone could stop him—
Every assassin bit down on a hidden capsule.
Their bodies instantly dissolved into black ash.
Not a single survivor remained.
Silence returned.
Only the sound of falling dust remained.
Kael looked at the ashes.
“They killed themselves…”
The priest nodded grimly.
“The Shadow Covenant leaves no witnesses.”
Astra slowly walked toward Kael.
Her silver eyes examined him carefully.
Then she spoke.
“The countdown has changed.”
Everyone looked at her.
She stared at the shattered ceiling above.
“The world no longer ends in three years.”
Hope appeared on Kael’s face.
Astra continued.
“It ends in…”
She paused.
“…two years and eleven months.”
Silence.
Draven sighed.
The First King looked toward the north.
Far beyond the mountains.
Toward a city called Velkar.
The place where the next piece of the truth awaited them.
Kael tightened his fists.
His journey had truly begun.
Behind them…
The ruins of Elaris disappeared beneath collapsing stone.
There was no home left to return to.
Only the road ahead.
And a war that had already begun.
End of Chapter 11