Meanwhile, in Konowa – The Shadow's Trial
The scene shifted.
Far from the grand halls of the empire, in the twisted, dark streets of Konowa, Michael sat in a dimly lit prison cell. His wrists were bound, his body bruised—but his spirit unbroken.
The mission was far from over.
And he was not done yet
As Michael waited in his cell, the rune on his arm pulsed, signaling Krisian's presence in his mind.
"Michael," Krisian's voice echoed through the rune, calm yet firm. "How far have they taken you?"
Michael exhaled, his fingers tracing the rough stone wall beside him. "As you predicted, they locked me up."
Krisian chuckled darkly. "That does not stop the mission. This prison is nothing compared to what we practiced in Gomora. However, I cannot simply destroy it. The place is filled with demonic energy, but I know how to get you out. For now, listen carefully."
Michael tensed, his grip tightening against the cold iron bars.
"Call the guard next to you," Krisian instructed. "Tell him that Victor Vermoss sent you. Demand an audience with the Monarch of the Kingdom, then wait."
Before Michael could ask why, Krisian severed the connection, leaving him alone in the dimly lit cell. He exhaled slowly before turning to the guard outside.
Michael straightened, his voice low but firm. "Guard! Tell the Monarch that Victor Vermoss sent me."
The guard's eyes widened in shock. He took a hesitant step back, as if debating whether to acknowledge the name, before spinning on his heel and running down the stone corridor. Michael watched him disappear, his heartbeat steady despite the rising tension.
A faint rustle from the next cell caught his attention. A figure shifted in the darkness, pressing closer to the bars that separated them.
"You should be careful," a female voice whispered, her tone edged with quiet urgency. "That name will grant you the privilege of speaking to the Monarch, but if you don't have the information they need, you may not leave alive."
Michael turned his head, his sharp gaze locking onto Alpha. Her silver-black hair framed her face, but her crimson eyes gleamed with a warning.
"Are you worried about me, Alpha?" he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.
Alpha scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "No, I'm not. My destiny is already sealed." Her voice wavered slightly, but she quickly masked it. "I will lose my life soon enough. What I don't understand is why you would risk yours for someone like me."
Michael leaned against the cold stone wall, studying her carefully. "Then tell me your story. I want to understand why you speak as if you've already lost."
Alpha hesitated, her fingers brushing over the faded markings on her wrist. She exhaled, her shoulders sagging slightly as if surrendering to the weight of her past.
"My story is nothing but misery," she began, her voice quieter now. "I was born with silver hair, just like my mother. She loved me more than anything. But one day, our village was attacked by a demon clan. We ran until we could run no more, seeking refuge here, unaware that this kingdom belonged to a demon lord."
Her fingers curled into fists, her knuckles turning white. "When my mother realized the truth, she did something... something I still don't understand. She marked my hand with a strange symbol, and my hair turned black. She used the last of her strength to do it, and then she collapsed."
Michael listened in silence, his expression unreadable as Alpha's gaze darkened.
"That's when Filip, Zak's uncle, found us. He attacked, and my mother barely had time to set me down. She grabbed my wrist, her fingers trembling, and told me to run—no matter what I heard, no matter what happened. She told me never to look back."
Alpha's breath hitched. She looked away, her eyes glistening in the dim light. "But I did. I looked back. And I saw them cutting her throat."
Michael's jaw tightened, a flicker of something dangerous flashing in his eyes. "I'm sorry."
Alpha let out a hollow laugh. "That wasn't the end of it. Five years later, the man who had taken me in—someone I trusted—betrayed me. He claimed to be my father and sold me as a slave to the king."
Michael exhaled slowly, his hands pressing into his knees. "Do you know who your mother was? Why she had silver hair?"
Alpha frowned, her voice barely a whisper. "No. She never told me."
Michael met her gaze, his mind racing. "Then we have more to uncover than I thought."
Before Alpha could respond, heavy footsteps echoed in the corridor. The air in the cell grew thick, charged with an unspoken warning.
Alpha grabbed Michael's wrist suddenly, her grip surprisingly strong. Her eyes, usually defiant, held an uncharacteristic softness. "Listen to me. No matter what happens, don't let them break you."
Michael's lips curled into a faint smirk. "I never do."
The cell door creaked open, and two armored guards stepped in. One gestured sharply. "The Monarch has summoned you. Move."
Michael stood, rolling his shoulders. As he stepped past Alpha's cell, he caught one last glance of her—standing still, her gaze fixed on the floor, shadows flickering against her face.
Then the door slammed shut, and he was led into the darkness beyond.
The meeting was about to begin.
As Michael stood in the dimly lit cell, he turned to Alpha, his expression tense. He could feel it—a presence approaching fast. His golden eyes flickered with urgency.
"Alpha," he said, his voice low but firm. "Your mother was a descendant of the Onyx Court. Her silver hair proves it. She was one of the Seven Shadows, though we do not know which. She had two sisters—a twin among them. We cannot say for certain which one she was, but her lineage means you are in danger. You must hide."
Alpha's eyes widened, her breath catching. "What do you mean?"
Michael exhaled sharply, scanning the corridor outside the cell. "Zak is coming. He's taking me to the Monarch. If he finds you here, things will only get worse."
Before Alpha could protest, heavy footsteps echoed through the halls. The door creaked open, revealing the towering figure of Zak Ruther. His crimson eyes glowed faintly in the dim torchlight, his presence suffocating.
Michael straightened, schooling his features into neutrality. As Zak approached, he bowed slightly. "I greet you, Your Eminence, and I apologize for being here without first revealing who I was. My master sent me and instructed me to remain silent."
Zak studied him for a long moment, his gaze calculating. Then, with a slight nod, he turned. "Follow me. The Monarch will see you now."
Michael fell into step beside him, his mind racing. He needed to act fast. Every second wasted was a second closer to Alpha's doom.
The Monarch's Chamber
The grand hall was imposing—black marble floors reflecting the eerie glow of torches, banners adorned with abyssal sigils swaying gently. At the far end sat the Monarch of Konowa, his expression unreadable, his eyes sharp as daggers.
Michael stepped forward and bowed respectfully. The Monarch regarded him with an appraising look before speaking. "I must apologize for how my son, Zak, treated you. We are in preparation for an important visit from the Demon Lord, and tensions are high. We are merely being cautious."
Michael kept his face neutral. "I understand, Your Majesty."
The Monarch exhaled, his voice dropping to something colder. "It is for that reason that we have chosen to sacrifice Alpha to the Demon Lord. If we do so, nothing will happen to our kingdom."
Michael's blood ran cold. His hands curled into fists at his sides, but he forced himself to remain composed. He had no time left.
Alpha was in immediate danger.
He had to act—now.
Michael took a steady breath before speaking, carefully measuring his words. He had to sell the lie.
"Your Eminence, I must tell you the truth," he said, his voice calm but firm. "I am not here on behalf of Victor Vermoss."
The Monarch's sharp eyes narrowed slightly. The weight of the room seemed to grow heavier, but Michael did not falter. He continued, his tone unwavering:
"Vermoss has joined hands with my master, Krisian Voss. In fact, he no longer goes by that name—he is known as Zeref now."
The Monarch's expression shifted—first to shock, then to contemplation. His fingers tapped lightly against the armrest of his throne. "Vermoss… my old friend… has sided with your master?" A slow smirk crossed his lips. "Then I see no reason to resist. If he stands with Krisian Voss, I will gladly be your ally."
Michael nodded respectfully. "Then it is an honor, Your Eminence."
The Monarch leaned back, a satisfied expression on his face. "You are welcome to stay in Konowa as long as you like. You will be treated with care, as an honored guest."
Michael bowed slightly. "I appreciate your generosity."
With that, he turned and left the chamber, his mind already racing. He had managed to secure the Monarch's alliance, but now came the harder part—getting Alpha out of here.
As he walked through the dimly lit corridors, his thoughts churned, forming and discarding plans. The guards would be watching him. The palace was crawling with enforcers. Any misstep could cost both of them their lives.
Then, Krisian's voice echoed in his mind through the rune.
"Michael, stop wasting your time."
Michael's stride slowed slightly, his jaw tightening.
"Vergra will crush you. He is the Demon Lord. He will not kill you, but he will break you."
Michael exhaled sharply. "Then I'll make sure he never gets the chance."
Krisian chuckled darkly. "No need. The sacrifice will not be accepted."
Michael frowned. "What do you mean?"
"Alpha is a descendant of the Onyx Court."
Michael stopped in his tracks. His breath hitched.
"Vergra will recognize this fact. He will not allow her to be sacrificed. In fact, he may be the key to uncovering the truth—who her father is… and her mother."
Michael's mind raced. That changed everything.
Then Krisian's voice took on a more amused tone. "Besides, I want to meet my old friend Vergra. It's been a long time since I last saw him… and I have a gift for him."
Michael smirked slightly, shaking his head. "This is going to be interesting."
The sky above Konowa cracked with thunder as the summoning ritual reached its climax. The torches surrounding the altar burned with an eerie blue flame, casting unnatural shadows over the gathered crowd.
Michael remained still among the spectators, his breath steady despite the rising tension. Krisian's voice echoed in his mind:
"Stay still until the moment arrives. When I say move, you move."
And so, he obeyed.
At the center of the altar, the priests chanted in an ancient, twisted language—neither fully human nor demonic, but something far older. The words slithered through the air like unseen tendrils, calling forth the one who lay beyond the veil of existence.
Then, with a violent burst of energy, the summoning reached its peak.
A tear in reality split open, and from it emerged the Demon Lord, Vergra.
A towering figure clad in flowing dark robes, his very presence sent shivers down the spines of all who dared gaze upon him. His skin was marked with runes of an ancient power, his crimson eyes burning with an intensity that could melt steel. As he stepped forward, the air itself seemed to buckle under his weight.
He regarded the trembling priests before him, then turned his gaze upon Alpha—the supposed sacrifice. His lips curled into an unreadable expression as he spoke in a deep, resonant voice, a mix of a forgotten tongue and something almost familiar:
"Vos estis stulti. Audetisne dare Onyx in sacrificium?"
His voice echoed through the courtyard, shaking the very foundations of Konowa.
Then, he laughed. A deep, reverberating sound that sent waves of unease through the crowd. His next words sent ice through their veins:
"Not only have you dared to offer an Onyx as a sacrifice… but you have given me my lost daughter."
A stunned silence followed.
Alpha's entire body tensed, her breath hitching. She glared up at Vergra, her crimson eyes burning with fury. "Lies!" she spat. "My mother was murdered by your followers! You—!"
Vergra's gaze softened—not with mercy, but with something more chilling. Amusement.
"You are mine, Alpha. And you will free me from what the Celestial Court has done to me."
A gasp spread through the crowd. Whispers of confusion and disbelief rippled across the gathered nobles and priests.
The High Priest stepped forward, his hands shaking. "What… what is the prophecy?" he stammered.
Vergra's eyes darkened. "It has long been foretold that the cursed chains binding my power will be broken… by my own blood. And you," he turned his gaze to Alpha, "are the key."
The shock had barely settled before another voice sliced through the silence.
"Sorry to interrupt, but my master would like a word."
Michael stepped forward, his eyes gleaming with confidence.
A shadow flickered beside him, twisting and writhing like a living entity. Then, Krisian stepped from the darkness, his golden eyes glowing with a dangerous amusement.
"But my, how things have turned out, dear uncle," Krisian drawled, his smirk widening.
A collective gasp rang through the courtyard.
The Monarch of Konowa turned his gaze upon Krisian, his face contorted with rage. "How dare you speak in front of the Demon Lord, you pathetic human—!"
Before he could finish, Krisian flicked his wrist.
Dark runes surged through the air, wrapping around the Monarch's body like chains of pure shadow. The weight of an unseen force slammed him to his knees, his face twisted in shock and horror.
"You should not speak when your rulers are talking," Krisian said coldly. "Tell me, Monarch—who even gave you that title?"
Vergra turned his gaze upon Krisian, a mixture of curiosity and something darker lurking beneath the surface.
"Interesting…" the Demon Lord mused. "And who are you, boy?"
Krisian tilted his head, his smirk never faltering.
"I am Krisian Voss. The rightful heir of the empire. And I have no intention of bowing to you or anyone else."
For a brief moment, silence reigned.
Then—Vergra laughed.
Louder this time.
Darker.
More dangerous.
"This," he said, "has just become far more interesting."