The Royal Kitchens were a marvel of marble and steam. While the rest of the palace felt stiff and cold, this room was alive with the roar of fires and the clattering of copper pans. Ato sat at a long wooden table, his eyes shimmering like a child's as the Head Chef—the same one who had chased him with a shotgun earlier, now trembling under the Prince's orders—laid down a tray.
"Here's your golden steak," Lemon said, leaning against a stone pillar. "Made by the most famous chef on this island. It is a meal reserved only for the King's birthday."
Ato didn't even use a napkin. "Whoa, this looks amazing! I'm digging in!"
In an instant, the steak was gone. The plate was licked clean before the steam had even stopped rising. Ato slammed the plate down with a grin that could rival the sun. "Another one, please!"
Lemon looked shocked. It wasn't just the speed of the eating; it was the absolute lack of weight in Ato's spirit. The Prince had spent his entire life dreading this day. He had trained his fists, studied the Void, and stayed awake at night fearing the purple sky. Yet here was a boy, about to face the end of the world, and his only concern was his stomach.
"Ato," Lemon said softly, his voice wavering. "Can I ask you a question?"
Ato didn't look up from his empty plate. "No. First, give me food."
"I will give you more food if you answer," Lemon countered.
Ato snapped his head up, serious. "Okkkk. Ask."
Lemon looked down at his own hands. They were trembling. "Aren't you scared to fight the shadows? Because... I'm so nervous. My hands won't stop shaking. I can't think of anything. I don't know what to—"
"Oi, Lemon," Ato interrupted, his voice surprisingly calm. He reached out and shoved his empty plate toward the Prince. "Don't you worry. I'm here."
The simplicity of the words hit Lemon like a physical force. It wasn't a complex strategy or a royal decree; it was just a promise from one Captain to his recruit. For the first time in weeks, the pressure in Lemon's chest loosened. He felt... refreshed.
Ato's stomach growled, breaking the moment. "Now... can I get my steak, please?"
Lemon smiled—a real, genuine smile. He took Ato's plate and reached for a fresh cut of meat, but as he turned toward the grill, the world changed.
The golden light coming through the windows didn't fade; it was overwritten. A deep, bruised purple light flooded the kitchen. The warmth of the ovens vanished, replaced by a cold that tasted like iron. Ato looked down at his table. The succulent steak he had been waiting for didn't just spoil—it turned to gray dust. The bread, the wine, every piece of food in the room crumbled into ash and blew away in a wind that didn't exist.
"Why is my food turning to ashes?" Ato asked, his voice low.
He looked at Lemon. The Prince was frozen. His face was a mask of pure terror.
"Is it time already?" Lemon whispered. "The time that all shadow monsters are released... We have to go, Ato! Now!"
Ato didn't need to be told twice. He stood up, his Beast Aura beginning to flicker like a candle in the wind. "Nobody ruins my steak and gets away with it. Let's go!"
The Archives of the Lost
In the heart of the Great Library, Faramis was standing on a rolling ladder, his fingers dancing across the spines of ancient books. "I can't find it here," he grumbled, wiping dust from his glasses. "Maybe that side."
He moved to a restricted section, his heart pounding. "AAAA! I can't find the book here too! How big is this library? It's a maze built to hide the truth!"
He kicked a shelf in frustration, and a thin, leather-bound book tumbled from the very top. He caught it. His eyes widened.
"Found it. The book is called... The Starting Era of the Pirates."
He flipped it open, his eyes scanning the ancient text. "Long ago... The God of Creation, Raij—wait—why is—"
Faramis stopped. The words on the page began to smoke. One by one, the books on the shelves around him began to dissolve into gray dust. The knowledge of a thousand years was being erased by the purple light pouring through the skylight.
"Why is everything vanishing?!" Faramis yelled. He looked through the window and saw the sky. "The Void is breathing... I have to get to Ato!"
The Upper District: The First Breach
Kojo stood at the edge of the Knight Practice Ground. The Bird-Knights he had been watching were in a state of total collapse. Their beautiful golden armor felt like lead, and their spears were shaking in their hands.
Kojo ignored them. He walked to the very edge of the plateau, looking down at the island's entrance. He knew a problem had been created. He could feel the "spirit" of the island dying.
Suddenly, the air cracked like glass. A purple portal, swirling with black mist, tore open right in front of him. From the darkness emerged creatures that looked like silhouettes of men, but their eyes were voids and their limbs were too long. They didn't make a sound as they sprinted toward Kojo.
Kojo didn't hesitate. He drew his katana in a blur of steel. "First Sword Style: Iron Divide!"
The blade whistled through the air, perfectly aimed to bisect the lead creature. But the steel passed right through the shadow as if it were smoke. Kojo's eyes widened as the creature didn't even slow down. Its black hand slammed into Kojo's chest, the impact carrying a weight that shouldn't have been possible.
Kojo was knocked back, his boots skidding across the stone. "What the—? My blade didn't touch it!"
"CHARGE!" a voice screamed from behind him.
The Royal Knights, desperate to prove their worth, came galloping past Kojo. Their golden horses were frothing at the mouth, their lances leveled at the portal.
"STAY BACK!" Kojo shouted, his voice hoarse. "You can't hit them! Get back!"
But the knights didn't listen. They slammed into the shadow horde. It wasn't a battle; it was a harvest. The shadows simply reached out and touched the knights, and the men and horses alike turned to gray ash before they even hit the ground.
Kojo looked around in horror. Portals were popping up everywhere. One in the Upper District, one in the Middle District, and a massive one in the Lower District.
The island of gold was being swallowed by the purple night.