The silence was worse than the Hollow's scream.
It was heavy, expectant, like the world itself was holding its breath.
Rick staggered upright, his body trembling. His boots pressed against cracked marble, black-veined stone that stretched into infinity. Pillars rose around him—jagged, fractured things, each one crowned with a broken circlet hanging from chains. The crowns swayed, clinking softly, whispering voices he couldn't quite understand.
The air smelled of iron. Old iron. Blood left too long in the sun.
And at the far end of the hall, a throne waited.
Not carved, not built—grown. A twisted seat of fused chains and shattered stone, crowned with dozens of eyes that opened and closed in slow, unblinking rhythm. And upon it… nothing. Empty. Waiting.
Rick's throat tightened. He turned sharply, searching. "Devil?"
No answer.
The tether on his wrist still glowed faintly, a golden thread trailing across the throne room floor. He followed it, his heartbeat echoing in the cavernous silence. Every step clanged against the marble like the march of a condemned man.
The thread led him to a figure.
She was there.
Devil lay at the foot of the throne, chained by wrists and ankles, her form flickering between shadow and flesh. Her head was bowed, her hair covering her face. The golden thread ran straight into her chest, pulsing weakly.
Rick rushed forward, dropping to his knees. "Devil! It's me. I'm here."
Her eyes fluttered open. Not hollow. Not illusion. Real. Her lips parted, a whisper scraping past. "Rick… run."
Chains yanked taut around her body, slamming her back into the base of the throne. She gasped, her form spasming like fire starved of air.
Rick spun, spear raised. "Show yourself!"
The throne answered.
From its hollow seat, the chains writhed, unraveling like serpents. They poured into the air, weaving a body of vast proportions—a kingly shape, armored in black-gold links, crowned with jagged fragments of iron. Its face was a void-mask, but unlike the figure before, this one was whole, perfect. Eyes blazed in its depths like a constellation of dying stars.
The Crown-Bearer. The true Hollow King.
Its voice shook the hall: "You reached my heart. You broke my vessel. Now you stand in my throne room."
Rick raised the spear. His arms quivered, his lungs burned, but his eyes did not waver. "Then I'll end it here."
The Hollow King tilted its head. "End it? Foolish child. You think you are invader. You are heir."
The broken crowns hanging from the pillars rattled violently, their whispers rising to a deafening chorus: Crown-bearer. Crown-bearer. One of us.
Rick clutched his head. The voices drilled into him, pressing into bone, into blood. For a moment he saw himself seated upon the throne, chains spilling from his skin, Devil at his feet as nothing more than shadow, bound forever.
His stomach lurched. "No! That's not me!"
The Hollow King leaned forward. Its voice deepened, splitting into countless echoes. "It is already you. You severed her root. You wear my crown. Every time you fought, every time you bled—you fed me."
Rick staggered, his vision blurring. The tether flickered. The spear dimmed.
"Rick!" Devil's voice rang sharp, cutting through the storm. She strained against her chains, eyes blazing. "Don't listen! You're not his heir—you're mine!"
The words slammed into him like a spark into dry wood. His chest ignited, white-gold burning through his veins. The spear flared to life again, its light roaring.
Rick bared his teeth. "If I'm heir to anyone—it's her."
The Hollow King rose from the throne, towering, its chains spreading like wings. "Then you have chosen rebellion."
The ground split. The throne room shook. Crowns shattered, raining shards like meteors. The chains around Devil tightened, dragging her into the throne's shadow. She screamed his name.
Rick surged forward, spear blazing, the tether burning like fire. He leapt, hurling himself at the Hollow King.
Light met void.
The throne room detonated.
For an instant, Rick's spear pierced the Hollow King's chest. White-gold erupted, chains snapping like glass. But the king laughed—low, rumbling, endless.
"You strike yourself, child. You are me."
The spear's light bent inward, twisting, warping. Rick gasped as the fire he had wielded turned back, flooding his veins, threatening to consume him. His own heartbeat became a drumbeat of the Hollow.
Devil's voice tore through it: "Rick! Don't let it take you—fight!"
He roared, forcing the spear deeper, pushing against the tide. His vision blurred—gold, black, fire, void. The throne cracked. The pillars fell.
The Hollow King screamed—half in pain, half in triumph.
Chains lashed out, faster than lightning. One wrapped around Devil, yanking her upward. Another coiled around Rick's chest, dragging him back toward the throne.
The tether stretched between them—thin, burning, screaming.
Rick reached. She reached back. Their fingers brushed—
And the tether snapped.
The light vanished.
Darkness swallowed him.
To be continued…