The rage Kael felt had long since been incinerated, replaced by a cold, surgical calm. He was no longer the boy who had been betrayed; he was a god forged in the fires of solitude. His prison was a realm of infinite power, and Julian had just made him its king.
He stood up, the obsidian plane a silent testament to his training. For over a year, he had done nothing but cultivate, nothing but absorb the raw, Mythic Mana of this Vestige Realm. The Primal Seed in his palm was now a part of him, a constant, humming core of power. He was not just stronger; he was fundamentally different. He was no longer a person who could cultivate; he was a being of pure will who could command it.
He took a single breath and expanded his consciousness, not just within the boundaries of his skin, but across the entire realm. He felt every mote of energy, every displaced particle of cosmic dust. The vast, empty space was now his to command. The Vestige Realm, his prison, bent to his will.
His focus turned to the obelisk, the anchor that connected this realm to the rest of the Game. In the past, it had been an unassailable object of myth. Now, Kael saw it not as a monument but as a machine, its rules a code written in the language of energy and intent. He would not ask for an exit. He would rewrite one.
He walked towards the obelisk, his steps creating a faint, shimmering resonance in the ground. As he approached, a final guardian manifested from the air before it. It was not a physical being but a construct of pure light, an amalgamation of the realm's defensive protocols. It pulsed with the serene, unyielding power of an ancient security system.
"Intruder. You have not been summoned. Cease." The guardian's voice was a flat, cold command.
Kael did not pause. He raised a hand. He didn't cast a spell or use a martial technique. He exerted his will. The air around the guardian of light warped. Kael had spent over a year learning to speak the language of this realm. The guardian was a command, and Kael had learned how to overwrite it.
The light construct flickered, then shattered into a million shimmering motes of energy, its purpose nullified. The path was clear.
Kael laid a hand on the obsidian face of the obelisk. He didn't use mana to connect; he used pure, raw will, a cold, focused intent that bypassed all its defences. The obelisk's interior protocols flared to life in his mind, a torrent of code, rules, and ancient, unchangeable laws. Kael ripped through them, not by force, but by a precise, malicious re-engineering. He found the protocol for exiting the realm, the rigid, predetermined paths that led only back to the Game's main hub. He saw the path that Julian had so meticulously laid out.
And with a single, brutal act of will, Kael rewrote it. He forged a new destination, a new protocol. He would not return to the Ardyn Clan mansion to play Julian's game. He would go to the very heart of the power Julian was building.
He found the protocol for broadcasting a message. He could use the immense, unfiltered power of this realm as an amplifier. A final, parting gift to his rival.
A cold, dangerous smile spread across his face.
He wouldn't just return to the board. He would flip it over.
He stepped back from the obelisk as the new portal began to form, not a chaotic purple vortex, but a black, silent hole in reality that led to a destination of his own choosing.
He looked at the endless, empty realm behind him. It was a tomb, a prison, and a forge. He had become its master, and now he was leaving it behind.
A final, concise message, a single, cold thought, was broadcast across the entire Game of Kings, a thought so powerful it would echo in the minds of every Player, every Overseer, and every being that could hear it. It was not a plea. It was not a declaration. It was a promise.
"I'm coming for you."