The next chamber was vast. It opened like a cathedral, pillars carved into screaming faces reaching toward a ceiling he couldn't see. Bones littered the edges of the floor, some human, some… not.
At its center sat the throne. Black crystal, veined with violet runes, carved from bone and stone. It seemed empty, but Azer knew better.
Pressure slammed into his mind, heavy and insistent. The throne was alive. Watching. Judging.
"You're not supposed to be here," he muttered under his breath.
The shard in his pocket hummed and floated toward his hand, drawn by his presence. It burned briefly as he grasped it. Shadow and lightning stirred within him, awakening in new, unfamiliar ways.
[System Notification – Relic Binding Initiated, Soul Integrity: STRAINED]
Pain flared, white-hot, but he did not scream. Instead, he flexed his fingers, feeling power surge. His Shadow Path skills had awakened fully for the first time. The shard was not just a relic—it was a catalyst, an evolution, and he had survived its judgment.
The throne pulsed again. Images flooded his mind: empires rising and falling, champions devoured, gods bleeding. The Hollow Throne remembered everything.
Azer smiled thinly. He was not a god, nor yet a master. But the first step had been taken.
And the dungeon would notice.