No one moved.
No one breathed.
The underground station had become a kingdom of silence.
Hundreds of corpses knelt before Kael.
Their heads lowered.
Their bodies motionless.
Waiting.
Obeying.
The sight was horrifying.
Yet somehow…
It felt natural.
Kael hated that feeling.
“Stand up.”
The words escaped his mouth before he realized it.
Instantly—
Every corpse rose.
The entire station trembled.
The Church soldiers stumbled backward.
One dropped his weapon.
Another began praying.
The priest looked as if he had seen the end of the world.
Kael stared at the undead army.
His heart pounded.
He wasn’t controlling them consciously.
There were no spells.
No commands.
It felt more like instinct.
Like breathing.
Like walking.
Like something he had always known how to do.
Suddenly—
One of the corpses stepped forward.
A dead knight.
Its armor was cracked.
Its face covered in dried blood.
Yet unlike the others…
Its eyes glowed faintly silver.
Awareness.
Intelligence.
Kael immediately noticed.
“So you’re different.”
The corpse slowly nodded.
The station fell silent.
Even the priest looked shocked.
Because corpses weren’t supposed to think.
The knight opened its mouth.
Its voice sounded broken.
As if rusted metal was scraping together.
“Master.”
Every person present froze.
Master.
The dead man had spoken.
Kael’s stomach tightened.
“I’m not your master.”
The corpse stared at him.
Then replied:
“You are.”
Silence.
The answer carried absolute certainty.
As if the statement itself was a law of reality.
The dead knight lowered its head.
“The Throne has returned.”
Kael frowned.
“What Throne?”
The corpse looked confused.
For the first time.
Then realization appeared in its eyes.
“You do not remember.”
A chill ran down Kael’s spine. Find the original chapter at g.com.
Remember?
Remember what?
Before he could ask—
The ground shook.
BOOOOOOM.
Dust fell from the ceiling.
The station trembled violently.
Everyone looked toward the tunnel entrance.
Fear spread instantly.
Because they all knew.
There was only one person who could cause that much destruction.
Draven Ashborn.
The War Throne Holder.
He had found them.
Miles above.
The city of Elaris burned.
Buildings collapsed.
Flames painted the night sky red.
Draven walked through the destruction calmly.
As if taking a stroll.
Corpses covered the streets.
Church knights.
Mercenaries.
Soldiers.
Citizens.
Thousands dead.
And yet Draven’s armor remained spotless.
Not a single scratch.
Not a single stain.
A messenger knelt before him.
Trembling.
“My Lord.”
Draven didn’t stop walking.
“The Death Bearer escaped.”
Silence.
The messenger swallowed.
Then—
Draven laughed.
A deep.
Dangerous laugh.
“Good.”
The messenger blinked.
Confused.
“My Lord?”
Draven’s golden eyes glowed.
“If he died this easily…”
His smile widened.
“…he would not be worth killing.”
Then he pointed toward the mountains.
“The tunnels.”
The earth cracked beneath his feet.
“I’ll finish this myself.”
Back inside the station.
The dead knight suddenly grabbed its chest.
Pain flashed across its face.
Impossible.
Dead things shouldn’t feel pain.
The silver glow in its eyes flickered.
Then it whispered:
“He’s coming.”
The entire undead army reacted.
Every corpse turned toward the tunnel entrance.
Like soldiers preparing for battle.
Kael felt something awaken inside him.
A connection.
An invisible thread linking him to every dead soul present.
Information flooded his mind. You are reading on g.com, the official source.
Instincts.
Commands.
Abilities.
Knowledge.
One phrase surfaced above all others.
Authority of the Fallen.
His first ability.
The true power of the Death Throne.
Any soul that accepted death could answer his call.
Not forever.
Not completely.
But for a short time.
The dead could rise again.
Kael staggered backward.
The ability terrified him.
Not because it was powerful.
Because it felt right.
Too right.
The priest stared at him.
“What happened?”
Kael slowly raised his head.
And for a brief moment—
His eyes glowed silver.
The same color as the dead.
“The Throne…”
His voice sounded distant.
“…just gave me a gift.”
Nobody liked the way he said it.
Not even Kael himself.
The dead knight suddenly looked toward the darkness.
Its expression changed.
Fear.
Pure fear.
Kael immediately noticed.
“What is it?”
The knight hesitated.
Then spoke.
A single sentence.
One sentence that froze everyone’s blood.
“The First King is waking up.”
Silence.
The priest’s face lost all color.
“No…”
Kael frowned.
“Who?”
The dead knight looked directly into his eyes.
And whispered:
“The original Death Throne Holder.”
The station became deathly quiet.
Impossible.
The original holder had lived ten thousand years ago.
No human could survive that long.
Yet the dead knight seemed certain.
“The First King never died.”
The words echoed through the darkness.
Then—
A distant sound emerged from deep within the tunnels.
A heartbeat.
THUMP.
The station shook.
THUMP.
Several corpses collapsed.
THUMP.
Even the dead seemed afraid.
And somewhere beneath the world…
Far below the reach of sunlight…
Two ancient silver eyes slowly opened.
For the first time in ten thousand years.
End of Chapter 7