The air burned like a furnace.
Alexander staggered as he stepped into the hall of the Second Gate, his body drenched in sweat, his chest heaving. The world here was wrong—the stone was alive, pulsing like muscle, the walls lined with burning runes that writhed like serpents. Each rune carried weight, a judgment, a binding.
This was no mere barrier. This was the Gate of Trial.
Behind him, the First Gate crumbled into nothing, its ashes erased from the void. Before him, the Second Gate towered—an arch of obsidian and flame, its surface veined with molten cracks that oozed with a golden fire. And within its depths… something moved.
A voice greeted him, not like the whispers of the throne, not like the endless echo of the King. This voice was sharp, cruel, almost mocking.
"Gatebreaker. You stand at the door of eternity. But eternity does not welcome thieves."
The molten cracks widened, and from them emerged a figure.
It was not shadow. Not a phantom.
It was Alexander himself.
His double stepped from the fire, armored in the same scorched steel, eyes burning with the same fire. But there was no compassion in his gaze—only fury, pride, and ruthless power.
The Second Gate had birthed his reflection, forged from his ambition and rage.
Alexander's grip on his blade tightened.
"…A test."
The double smirked, drawing his own sword—an exact mirror of the one Alexander carried.
"Not a test. A truth. To pass, you must slay me. But you cannot. Because I am not a shadow… I am you. I am every cruelty, every hunger, every fire you've buried. And unlike you, I do not hesitate."
Before Alexander could respond, his reflection lunged.
Steel clashed with steel, sparks lighting the molten air. The force of the blow sent Alexander staggering, heat scorching his skin as his reflection pressed harder, eyes blazing with murderous glee.
---
The Weight of Fire
The fight raged across the hall. Blades sang, striking with such force the air itself cracked. Alexander fought desperately, each movement countered perfectly. His double was faster, sharper, unburdened by restraint.
With every strike, Alexander felt himself weakening, blood trickling from cuts across his arms and chest.
The reflection laughed.
> "Do you feel it? You fight to protect. To save. To love. All noble… all weak. I fight only to destroy. That is why I am stronger."
The double's blade pierced his shoulder, and Alexander fell to one knee, his sword slipping from his grip. Blood dripped onto the living stone, sizzling against its heat.
And then—he heard it.
A scream.
Isabella's scream.
It tore through the void, faint but undeniable. It cut through the heat, through the pain, through the crushing weight of the Second Gate. His heart lurched. His fire flared.
"No…" Alexander growled, forcing himself upright, blood soaking his side. His eyes blazed, brighter than the molten walls.
"She is mine to protect. Not yours. Not the King's. Mine."
---
The Fire Unleashed
The reflection sneered, raising its blade for the final strike. But Alexander did not raise his sword. Instead, he opened his hand—and fire erupted.
Not the flame of wrath.
Not the fire of cruelty.
The fire of defiance.
The fire of love.
The chamber shook as golden flames surged from his body, wrapping him in a mantle of blazing light. The reflection screamed as the fire caught it, devouring its armor, its skin, its very essence.
Alexander stepped forward, voice thunderous, each word a vow carved into eternity.
"I am not you. I am not your hunger. I am not your cruelty. I am Alexander. And I burn for her."
The reflection shrieked as it dissolved into ash, its blade crumbling into dust. The molten cracks of the Second Gate roared, splitting wide—then shattered, bursting apart in a flood of light.
The path beyond opened.
---
The King Trembles
Far away, within the throne of shadows, the King's endless form stirred.
For the first time since his awakening, his voice trembled.
"…The Second Gate falls. The fire… endures."
Isabella's chains cracked again. Her lips curled into a bloodied smile.
Alexander was coming.