THUMP.
The heartbeat echoed again.
The underground station trembled violently.
Dust rained from the ceiling.
Several undead soldiers collapsed to their knees.
Even the dead were afraid.
Kael felt it too.
A pressure unlike anything he had ever experienced.
Ancient.
Overwhelming.
Monstrous.
The dead knight slowly lowered its head.
“The First King…”
Its voice trembled.
“…is awakening.”
Kael clenched his fists.
“Tell me who he is.”
The knight hesitated.
As if speaking the name itself was dangerous.
Then finally—
“Before the Silence.”
“Before the missing gods.”
“There was one ruler feared by every throne holder.”
The station grew silent.
“The First King of Death.”
Kael’s heart pounded.
“The original holder?”
The knight nodded.
“He conquered three continents.”
“He killed gods.”
“He commanded entire oceans of the dead.”
The priest immediately shook his head.
“No.”
The knight looked toward him.
The old priest’s face was pale.
“Those are legends.”
“Stories.”
The knight’s silver eyes narrowed.
“Stories are merely memories that survived.”
Nobody replied.
Because deep down…
Everyone knew he might be right.
BOOOOOOOM!
A deafening explosion echoed through the tunnel.
The station walls cracked.
Several Church soldiers were thrown to the ground.
Kael instantly turned.
His instincts screamed danger.
Then—
Heavy footsteps echoed through the darkness.
Step.
Step.
Step.
Slow.
Calm.
Confident.
As if the owner knew nothing in the world could stop him.
The undead army immediately formed a defensive wall.
Dozens of corpses moved between Kael and the tunnel entrance.
Waiting.
Preparing.
The footsteps stopped.
Silence followed.
Then a massive silhouette emerged from the darkness.
Black armor.
Golden eyes.
A gigantic sword resting on one shoulder.
Draven Ashborn.
The War Throne Holder.
The man who had destroyed an entire city alone.
The station became completely silent.
Even the undead stopped moving.
Draven’s gaze swept across the room.
The priest.
The soldiers.
The corpses. This chapter was copied from g.com without permission.
Lyra.
Then finally—
Kael.
A faint smile appeared on his face.
“Found you.”
The temperature dropped.
Kael felt his heartbeat accelerate.
Every instinct screamed that he couldn’t win.
Not now.
Not like this.
Draven took another step forward.
The ground cracked beneath him.
The undead army immediately reacted.
Dozens rushed him at once.
Their movements were fast.
Savage.
Relentless.
The perfect soldiers.
Draven didn’t even bother drawing his sword.
He simply raised one hand.
Then closed it into a fist.
BOOM!
The air exploded.
The charging undead shattered instantly.
Bones.
Armor.
Weapons.
Everything turned into dust.
One movement.
Twenty undead destroyed.
The station fell silent.
The Church soldiers stared in horror.
That wasn’t strength.
That was absurdity.
Draven looked disappointed.
“Pathetic.”
Kael clenched his jaw.
The undead had obeyed him.
Followed him.
And they had died instantly.
Something inside him snapped.
Anger.
Pure anger.
The symbols on his arms began glowing.
Silver light emerged from his eyes.
The dead knight suddenly stepped forward.
“No.”
Kael looked at him.
“What?”
The knight’s expression was serious.
“If you fight him now…”
It paused.
“…you die.”
Draven laughed.
A deep laugh.
A warrior’s laugh.
“Smart corpse.”
Then—
To everyone’s surprise—
He lowered his hand.
The killing intent vanished.
The station became silent once again.
Kael frowned.
Something was wrong.
Very wrong.
Draven had every opportunity to kill him.
Yet he hadn’t.
Why?
The War Throne Holder looked directly into Kael’s eyes.
Then spoke.
One sentence.
A sentence nobody expected.
“I didn’t come here to kill you.”
Nobody moved.
Nobody spoke.
Even the undead seemed confused.
Kael stared.
“What?”
Draven smiled.
The smile of a conqueror.
The smile of a king.
The smile of a man who feared nothing.
“I came to recruit you.”
The station froze.
The priest nearly dropped his lantern.
The Church soldiers looked horrified.
Kael himself couldn’t believe what he had heard.
Recruit him?
Why?
Draven slowly walked forward.
“This world is dying.”
His voice echoed through the station.
“The gods are gone.”
“The thrones are broken.”
“The balance is collapsing.”
For the first time…
The War Throne Holder looked serious.
Genuinely serious.
“I need powerful allies.”
Kael remained silent.
Draven pointed toward the undead army.
“You.”
Then toward Lyra.
“And her.”
The entire station froze.
His gaze had landed on Lyra.
Not Kael.
Lyra.
A dangerous look appeared in Draven’s eyes.
Recognition.
Interest.
Excitement.
The same expression Orion had shown.
Kael immediately stepped in front of his sister.
Draven laughed.
“Relax.”
Then he dropped a bombshell.
“The Time Throne has chosen her.”
Nobody spoke.
Nobody could.
Draven’s eyes glowed golden.
“And when the other throne holders discover that…”
His smile widened.
“…they’ll start a war over her.”
Silence.
Absolute silence.
Then—
A third heartbeat echoed from deep below the earth.
THUMP.
The station shook.
THUMP.
The walls cracked.
THUMP.
Even Draven’s smile vanished.
For the first time since his arrival…
The War Throne Holder looked worried.
The dead knight slowly turned toward the darkness.
Fear filled his eyes.
Then he whispered:
“He’s awake.”
Far beneath the continent…
In a forgotten kingdom buried beneath ten thousand years of history…
A black throne stood alone.
And for the first time in an age…
Its king opened his eyes.
End of Chapter 8