It was just before dawn when Sajibro walked along the edges of the Shadow Kingdom, following the path said to lead toward the capital.
But what he found was not a city—only ruins.
Crumbling walls, charred gates, and people whose faces no longer knew the difference between silence and slavery.
The city was called Arith. It had once been the very heart of the shadows… until another heart poisoned it.
Standing in a square where the dust resembled ashes, Sajibro looked around and murmured:
"This isn't what I imagined… these aren't the shadows I dreamed of."
An old man, hunched and trembling, approached him cautiously. His voice was hoarse as he asked:
"Did you come from outside the city? Don't linger here… the king's eyes are everywhere."
Sajibro's reply came quietly, almost as though he were asking himself:
"And where is this king?"
The old man lowered his voice even further:
"In the Black Palace. Never seen, but always heard. He takes everything, and gives back nothing but shadows… shadows that extinguish the light."
Sajibro walked on until he saw the palace.
It stood upon a hill, wrapped in pure darkness, as if stolen from a dream and twisted into a nightmare.
It wasn't merely a palace… it was an open tomb, devouring all who came near.
When he returned to Raizen and Musayuki, Sajibro sat in long silence.
Then he spoke, without meeting their eyes:
"The king… he isn't the guardian of shadows. He's their murderer."
Musayuki asked:
"Do you want to kill him?"
Sajibro's gaze darkened, the shadows thickening around his eyes as he answered:
"No… I want to tear him out by the roots. And return the shadows to those who deserve them."
That night, the first plan was born.
Not a military campaign, nor a grand alliance… but a new awareness.
Sajibro was no longer just a dreamer of weapons—he was a dreamer of destinies.
He gathered names, studied maps, spoke with the people, and retrained himself not as a maker of blades, but as a maker of fate.
Every stone in the city, every broken soldier, every starving child… became a piece of the image to come.
Raizen began to slip among the guards, charting their movements.
Musayuki studied the counselors, memorizing the language of the system.
Leva… turned herself into a dagger in every secret gathering.
And Sajibro…
He was sketching a plan in his mind, one that did not rely on the sword alone, but on an idea.
That shadows should never rule through fear.
He knew the confrontation was inevitable.
But within himself, there was no fear.
Because for the first time, he understood:
The true king is not the one who terrifies.
The true king… is the one who dreams.
End of Chapter Fifty-Eight