THUMP.
The heartbeat echoed again.
Louder.
Closer.
The entire underground station shook violently.
Cracks spread across the walls.
Dust filled the air.
Nobody spoke.
Nobody moved.
Even Draven Ashborn stood perfectly still.
Watching the darkness beyond the tunnels.
Waiting.
For the first time since his arrival…
The War Throne Holder looked cautious.
That alone terrified everyone present.
If something could make Draven hesitate…
Then it wasn’t human.
THUMP.
The sound came again.
This time the undead army reacted.
Every corpse dropped to one knee.
Their heads lowered.
Respect.
Fear.
Devotion.
Kael felt it too.
A strange pull inside his soul.
As if something ancient was calling him.
Something buried deep within the Death Throne itself.
The dead knight slowly whispered:
“He’s coming…”
Then—
A figure appeared.
Far inside the darkness.
A silhouette.
Tall.
Thin.
Wearing a long black cloak.
Nothing about him felt powerful.
Nothing felt divine.
Yet the moment he appeared—
Every light inside the station died.
The lanterns.
The torches.
Everything.
Darkness swallowed the world.
Only two silver eyes remained visible.
Watching.
Observing.
Judging.
The figure stopped.
No one could see his face.
No one could sense his presence.
That was the terrifying part.
He felt like a hole in reality.
Like existence itself refused to acknowledge him.
Draven slowly reached for his sword.
The mysterious figure laughed.
A quiet laugh.
Almost amused.
“You’ve become weaker.”
Silence.
The station froze.
Because he wasn’t speaking to Kael.
He was speaking to Draven.
The War Throne Holder smiled.
A dangerous smile.
“Ten thousand years.”
The figure nodded.
“Ten thousand years.”
Kael’s blood ran cold.
No human could survive that long.
Only one possibility remained.
The original Death Throne Holder.
The figure turned toward Kael.
The silver eyes studied him.
For several seconds nobody spoke.
Then—
The First King sighed.
Disappointment.
Pure disappointment.
“You’re too weak.”
Kael’s jaw tightened.
The words stung.
The First King continued.
“You don’t understand death.”
“You fear it.”
“You hate it.”
The silver eyes narrowed.
“That’s why the Throne rejects you.”
Kael froze.
Rejects?
The Death Throne had chosen him.
Hadn’t it?
The First King slowly raised one hand.
The air trembled.
Then a vision appeared.
A black throne.
Endless darkness.
Millions of dead souls kneeling beneath it.
An empire larger than worlds.
A kingdom built from death itself.
The vision vanished.
The First King looked directly into Kael’s eyes.
“That is what the Throne was meant to be.”
Kael’s heart pounded.
A kingdom.
Not a weapon.
Not a curse.
A kingdom.
Suddenly—
The First King turned toward Lyra.
For the first time…
His expression changed.
Shock.
Actual shock.
The entire station fell silent.
Draven immediately noticed.
“So it’s true.”
The First King ignored him.
His silver eyes remained fixed on Lyra.
Then he whispered:
“Impossible.”
Kael instantly stepped forward.
“What?”
The First King slowly approached.
One step.
Then another.
The dead knight lowered his head completely.
Trembling.
The First King stopped in front of Lyra.
Then he spoke.
A sentence nobody expected.
“She shouldn’t exist.”
Silence.
Kael felt his heartbeat stop.
“What does that mean?”
The First King looked at him.
His silver eyes were colder than ice.
“She carries two timelines.”
The station froze.
Even Draven looked surprised.
Two timelines?
What did that mean?
The First King continued.
His gaze darkened.
“But there are two.”
Kael couldn’t understand.
The First King slowly closed his eyes.
Then whispered:
“Orion…”
For the first time…
Draven’s expression became ugly.
Dangerous.
As if he had just heard the name of his greatest enemy.
Far away.
Thousands of miles from the station.
A young man sat alone atop a tower.
Golden clocks floated around him.
Orion Zephar.
The Time Throne Holder.
He slowly opened his eyes.
Then smiled.
A calm smile.
A knowing smile.
The smile of someone whose plan was unfolding perfectly.
Around him floated hundreds of shattered futures.
Broken timelines.
Destroyed possibilities.
Yet one future remained untouched.
One future only.
A future centered around Kael.
Orion looked toward the horizon.
Then quietly whispered:
“The First King has awakened.”
His smile widened.
“Exactly as planned.”
Back inside the station.
Kael stared at the First King.
Questions filled his mind.
Answers seemed impossible.
Then Draven suddenly stepped forward.
“Enough.”
The War Throne Holder placed his massive sword on his shoulder.
His golden eyes locked onto Kael.
“We don’t have time.”
The First King glanced at him.
Draven didn’t care.
“Three more Throne Holders are already moving.”
The station became silent.
Three more?
Draven nodded.
“The Knowledge Throne.”
“The Fate Throne.”
“And Chaos.”
A chill ran through the room.
Even the First King looked annoyed.
As if those names alone were troublesome.
Draven pointed toward the northern mountains.
“We leave now.”
Kael frowned.
“Why should I trust you?”
Draven laughed.
A deep laugh.
The laugh of a warrior.
“Simple.”
Then his smile vanished.
“Because if you stay here…”
His eyes turned toward the darkness.
Toward the approaching future.
“…everyone you love dies.”
Silence.
Absolute silence.
And for the first time…
Kael realized the truth.
The war had already begun.
He just didn’t know it yet.
End of Chapter 9