It happened at dawn.
Not in the streets.
Not in a warehouse.
Not in a duel.
It happened beneath the palace itself.
Arthur felt it before the alarms rang.
A tremor.
Not physical.
Arcane.
A vibration in the capital's foundational mana lattice — the ancient grid embedded beneath the palace centuries ago to stabilize the empire's core.
Arthur's eyes snapped open.
The crack in his chest flared instantly.
Not reacting to injury.
Reacting to resonance.
Someone was activating something massive.
A knock slammed against his door.
"Brother!"
Darius's voice.
Arthur was already moving.
"Eastern?" Darius asked as they ran through the corridor.
Arthur shook his head.
"No."
Seraphina joined them from the opposite hall, cloak half-fastened.
"It's beneath us."
Arthur's gaze sharpened.
"The foundation array."
The palace foundation was not decorative magic.
It was structural.
It stabilized the capital's mana flow, prevented catastrophic surges, balanced leyline pressure.
If destabilized—
The entire city could suffer cascading magical backlash.
Not explosion.
Collapse.
Controlled.
Calculated.
They reached the underground spiral stairwell.
Guards lay unconscious near the entrance.
No blood.
No struggle.
Efficient infiltration.
Arthur descended without hesitation.
The deeper they went, the heavier the air became.
Mana density thickened unnaturally.
Seraphina whispered,
"This is not amateur work."
No.
It wasn't.
At the final chamber, the ancient array pulsed violently.
Massive concentric circles carved into black stone.
Mana pillars rising like frozen lightning.
And in the center—
Three figures in deep crimson cloaks.
One stood still.
Observing.
The other two maintained active inscriptions around the core.
Arthur stepped forward.
The air distorted around him.
"You chose a dangerous location."
The central figure turned slowly.
A mask of smooth white porcelain covered the face.
Featureless.
Elegant.
"Crown Prince," the voice echoed softly.
Not panicked.
Not rushed.
Prepared.
"You're late," Arthur replied calmly.
The masked figure tilted its head slightly.
"On the contrary. You arrived precisely when required."
The array flared brighter.
Arthur felt it immediately.
The mirror sigil concept from before — but magnified.
This wasn't about copying him.
It was about synchronizing with his fractured core.
The masked figure continued,
"You are the strongest mana node in the empire."
Arthur's golden eyes sharpened.
"You intend to use me as stabilizer."
"Yes."
Not denial.
No theatrics.
Just honesty.
The foundation array was being inverted.
Instead of dispersing mana evenly, it was being condensed.
Into a single discharge point.
Arthur.
If he reacted explosively—
If he released overwhelming mana to suppress it—
The inversion would use his power to overload the palace core.
A chain reaction.
Massive structural damage.
Political chaos.
Blame uncertain.
Elegant.
Arthur stepped closer.
"You're gambling."
The masked figure's head tilted again.
"No."
The air thickened further.
"We are forcing inevitability."
Behind Arthur, Darius clenched his fists.
"Let me engage!"
Arthur raised a hand slightly.
"Not yet."
He extended his senses deeper.
The crack in his mana core pulsed violently now.
The array was amplifying instability frequencies.
They weren't trying to destroy him directly.
They were trying to widen the fracture.
Push him to overexert.
The masked figure spoke again.
"Phase Three is not about defeat."
The chamber vibrated.
"It is about timing."
Arthur understood instantly.
They wanted his core unstable during a larger event.
Something still coming.
He exhaled slowly.
"Seraphina."
"Yes."
"Disrupt the outer inscriptions. Counterclockwise flow."
She moved instantly, slicing mana threads with surgical precision.
Darius charged one of the cloaked mages.
Steel clashed.
Mana erupted.
Arthur stepped into the center.
The masked figure remained still.
"You cannot suppress it without full release," the figure said softly.
Arthur's golden eyes gleamed.
"Who said I would suppress?"
He knelt.
Placed his palm against the foundation stone.
Instead of blasting—
He slowed.
Compressed his mana output to a minimal, razor-thin stream.
Not overwhelming.
Not reactive.
He adjusted his internal flow deliberately.
The crack pulsed violently.
Pain surged through his chest.
Sharp.
Blinding.
He gritted his teeth.
The masked figure's voice shifted slightly.
"…Interesting."
Arthur inverted his internal circulation again.
Just like in the warehouse.
But deeper.
He fed the array a distorted frequency.
The inversion destabilized.
Runes flickered erratically.
One of the cloaked mages screamed as backlash surged through the inscriptions.
Darius disarmed the second instantly.
Seraphina shattered the outer ring.
The central chamber trembled violently.
Arthur forced one final compression—
Then released—
Not outward.
Downward.
Into the leyline beneath.
The entire chamber flashed white.
Then—
Silence.
Dust settled.
The foundation array returned to stable glow.
One cloaked mage unconscious.
The other pinned by Darius.
The masked figure stood still for three seconds longer.
Then—
Applauded softly.
"Impressive."
Arthur rose slowly.
Blood trickled faintly from the corner of his mouth.
The crack in his chest burned like molten glass.
"You won't escape," Darius growled.
The masked figure looked at Arthur directly.
"No."
Pause.
"Not yet."
And then—
The figure dissolved.
Not teleportation.
Not smoke.
A prepared decoy projection collapsing.
Seraphina exhaled sharply.
"Projection anchor."
Arthur nodded.
"They were never fully here."
He staggered slightly.
Darius caught his arm.
"Brother—"
Arthur steadied himself.
"I am fine."
He wasn't.
The crack had widened again.
Significantly.
He could feel it.
Subtle instability.
Not collapse.
But approaching threshold.
Seraphina approached carefully.
"They were testing the synchronization."
"Yes."
Darius's voice darkened.
"They're preparing something bigger."
Arthur nodded slowly.
"Yes."
And now he understood.
Phase Three wasn't meant to destroy the palace.
It was calibration.
They now knew how his core reacted under structural pressure.
They were measuring him.
Arthur looked down at the unconscious mage.
"Interrogate."
His voice was calm.
But colder now.
No more playful baiting.
No more narrative games.
They had touched the palace core.
They had risked the capital.
That crossed a line.
As they ascended back toward the surface—
Arthur felt it clearly.
His mana output ceiling had dropped slightly.
Temporary.
But real.
The crack pulsed again.
Persistent.
He exhaled slowly.
"They are timing something."
Seraphina asked quietly,
"What do you think it is?"
Arthur looked up at the palace ceiling above.
Then beyond it—
To the capital.
"To fracture not me…"
His golden eyes darkened.
"But the empire."
And this time—
He would not wait passively.
—
Deep beneath a distant estate.
The crimson-cloaked figure observed the recorded resonance feedback.
"The fracture widened," a subordinate whispered.
"Yes."
"And synchronization potential?"
"Eighty-seven percent compatibility."
The figure nodded slowly.
"Prepare the catalyst."
—
Back in his chamber.
Arthur stood before the mirror once more.
The crack pulsed faintly beneath his skin.
Painful.
But manageable.
For now.
He looked at his reflection.
"You want my instability to trigger something."
His eyes hardened.
"Then I will choose when it happens."
Outside—
Storm clouds gathered over the capital.
Not from weather.
From tension.
And the empire stood unknowingly on the edge of something far larger than reform.