Krisian sat cross-legged on the cold marble floor, his fingers lightly tracing patterns against the surface. His golden eyes, now filled with a dangerous glint, gazed into the darkness of his mind where Henry's presence lingered.
"Do you remember, Henry?" Krisian's voice was smooth, coaxing, yet commanding. "The story Mother used to tell us about the Iron Kingdom?"
A silence filled the void between them, but Krisian knew Henry was listening. He continued without waiting for an answer.
"Once, in a land of warring states, there were two neighboring kingdoms: Vermire and Ironvale. One was cunning; the other was mighty. But strength alone does not guarantee survival. The great empire of Ironvale fell not through war, but through its own weaknesses—its roots severed, its foundations rotted."
Krisian smirked as he felt Henry's hesitation, his thoughts swirling in doubt. "You see, Henry, brute force was never the answer. We have suffered, humiliated, betrayed—but we were never weak. They made us into villains, despised and ridiculed, but they never realized the truth." His fingers curled into a fist. "A fallen prince does not remain in the dirt. He learns. He rises."
Henry's voice was faint in his mind. "What… what are you saying?"
"I am saying, Henry, that we will use the same tactics. Those who destroyed us, those who beat us down—they are the mighty Ironvale. And we?" Krisian chuckled darkly. "We will be Vermire. We will not charge at them blindly. We will cut them from within. We will make them regret ever thinking they could destroy us."
Henry's consciousness trembled. "Revenge?"
"Justice." Krisian corrected. "You were too kind, Henry. Too trusting. And what did that kindness give you? Betrayal. Pain. I will not allow it any longer." He exhaled, his voice growing softer, but no less deadly. "Rest now. I will take care of everything."
The darkness in Henry's mind swirled, and for the first time, he did not resist. The weight of years of suffering, loneliness, and betrayal was too much. Maybe Krisian was right. Maybe this was the only way.
Back in the real world, Krisian opened his eyes. He stood, stretching his fingers as if adjusting to his newfound freedom. He turned towards the mirror in his room, gazing at his reflection. Gone was the meek, broken prince. In his place stood a ruler, a force to be reckoned with.
As he stepped out of his chambers, he whispered to himself, "The fall of our enemies begins now."
The Iron Kingdom had fallen once before. And it would fall again.
Krisian sat on his throne-like chair, his piercing gaze locked onto Alfonso. "Come in," he commanded, his voice cold and unwavering. "I want you to gather the knights. I am choosing my personal guard."
Alfonso scoffed, his lips curling into a smirk. "There is no knight who would swear loyalty to the coward prince," he muttered under his breath, just loud enough for Krisian to hear.
Krisian's eyes flashed with fury. His voice, sharp as a blade, cut through the air. "I told you to arrange a meeting. I did not ask for your opinion."
Alfonso clenched his fists, frustration evident in his stance. "This arrogant brat," he thought. "He was the weakest in the whole kingdom just moments ago, and now he dares to command me?"
But before he could voice another thought, Krisian rose to his feet. His presence filled the room like an approaching storm. "Stop mumbling like a commoner," he spat. "I told you—never look into my eyes again. And do not call me Henry. You are a mere knight, a villager in armor. You do not have the right to speak my name." His lips curled into a smirk. "You will address me as Crown Prince Krisian."
Alfonso bit the inside of his cheek, barely containing his anger. "As you wish… Crown Prince Krisian," he said through gritted teeth.
Krisian waved a hand dismissively. "Good. Now, prepare the meeting. Tomorrow at noon, I will see the knights."
Alfonso hesitated. "But… it is already noon. I cannot summon them on such short notice without your father's permission." He expected Krisian to falter, to be intimidated by the mention of Emperor Vordimoth.
Instead, Krisian merely tilted his head, a wicked glint in his eyes. "Yes, I know. And yet, the more you talk, the more time you waste. Tomorrow. At noon. The knights will stand before me." His voice darkened. "This is not a negotiation."
Alfonso clenched his jaw. He had no choice but to obey
Krisian turned back to Alfonso, his voice sharp as a dagger. "Before you go… kneel."
Alfonso's body trembled, his muscles resisting, but something unseen forced him downward. His knees hit the floor against his will, his head bowed before Krisian.
Krisian smirked, towering over him. "Never again look me in the eyes. Do you see despair on my face, Alfonso?" His voice was laced with amusement, but underneath, there was something darker—something terrifying.
Alfonso clenched his jaw, unable to respond.
Without another word, Krisian turned and left the room. As he walked, he spoke within his mind.
"Now, Henry, what was it you wanted to ask me?"
Henry's voice, hesitant yet filled with concern, echoed back. "Why are you doing this? The knights were among the people who hated us, who bullied us. They will betray us."
Krisian chuckled. "You lack vision, Henry. I do not need their loyalty—I need their usefulness. But among them, there are two knights I have in mind."
Henry listened in silence as Krisian continued. "These two… they despise the same people we do. They were once bullied, cast aside just like us. And they share a particular hatred for Duke Vermonie—the right hand of our dear father."
Henry tensed at the mention of that name.
"I will personally train them," Krisian declared. "They will surpass all other knights in strength. Perhaps not at first, but as I grow stronger, they will too."
Henry remained unconvinced. "But how?" he pressed. "How are you so strong? We are the same person, just different personalities. We share the same body—so why do you have power that I never did?"
Krisian smiled darkly. "Because, Henry… power is not in the body. It is in the will. And my will is absolute."
Krisian's voice echoed in Henry's mind, steady and commanding.
"Every human has strength, has power, and is strong. But you and I… we are not just any humans."
Henry's consciousness stirred uneasily. "What do you mean?"
Krisian chuckled. "Do you even know who you really are? Who I am? Do you truly know our father, Vordimoth? Or our mother? You don't, do you?"
Henry hesitated. The question lingered in his mind like a shadow he had never dared to chase.
"But that… that is a revelation for another day," Krisian continued. "For now, you must grow stronger. I want you to train both the Divine Art and the Demonic Art. When the time comes for us to exchange places, I feel we will need it. You must be ready."
Henry frowned. "But I can't train alone."
"You won't," Krisian assured him. "This is not only your mind—it is mine as well."
With that, Krisian reached down and touched the dark sand beneath them. The ground pulsed with energy, shadows swirling and merging together. Slowly, a figure rose—a perfect clone of Krisian, his presence as chilling as his creator's.
"He will be your training partner," Krisian said. "He will push you beyond your limits, and I will observe. Work hard, Henry. We must be ready to act soon."
Henry clenched his fists, determination flickering in his eyes. "And what about you?"
Krisian's voice softened. "I will not speak to you for some time. Focus on training."
With those final words, the connection faded, and Krisian's consciousness returned to reality. His eyes snapped open, meeting the dim light of the ward.
He sat up, his sharp gaze scanning the room. "Alfonso," he called out. "Is the meeting ready?"
Alfonso flinched at the sound of his voice, memories flashing through his mind—memories of his earlier conversation with Vordimoth.
He remembered standing before the powerful ruler, hesitantly explaining Krisian's desire to choose his own knights. He remembered the cold amusement in Vordimoth's eyes, the chilling response that followed.
Alfonso stood before the throne, his head lowered in deference, yet his hands trembled slightly at his sides. The dim torchlight cast long shadows across the grand hall, amplifying the suffocating presence of the man seated before him—Vordimoth Voss, the Emperor.
The ruler exhaled slowly, his crimson eyes narrowing as he regarded Alfonso with unreadable intensity. His voice, smooth yet carrying the weight of absolute power, finally broke the silence.
"So… my son wishes to choose his own knights?"
The words, though simple, carried an edge that made Alfonso's spine stiffen. He dared not look up.
"Yes, Your Majesty," Alfonso answered carefully. "Crown Prince Krisian has demanded a meeting tomorrow at noon to select them personally."
A low chuckle rumbled from Vordimoth's throat, dark and knowing. He leaned forward, his fingers tapping idly against the golden armrest of his throne.
"Demanded?" He repeated, amusement dripping from his tone. "How interesting. The same boy who once cowered in the face of his own shadow now believes himself fit to command?"
Alfonso hesitated, unsure whether to respond. Vordimoth's aura pressed down on him like an invisible hand, choking the air from his lungs.
Then, the Emperor's voice dropped into something colder. "Tell me, Alfonso… who has given him this newfound boldness?"
Alfonso swallowed hard. He had no answer.
Vordimoth sighed, as if disappointed. Then, slowly, he rose to his feet. The weight of his mere movement sent an unspoken warning through the room. He descended from the throne with a deliberate grace, his black and red robes trailing behind him like creeping shadows.
He stopped just inches from Alfonso.
"Let him have his little meeting," Vordimoth murmured, his breath unnervingly calm. "Let him believe he holds the reins of power. A chained beast must think itself free before the leash is pulled tight."
Alfonso dared to glance up, meeting Vordimoth's gaze for only a second before instantly regretting it. The Emperor's expression was unreadable, yet in his eyes, there was something sinister—a cruel patience.
"And when the time comes," Vordimoth continued, turning back toward his throne, "I will remind my dear son that true power is not seized… it is granted."
He sat once more, exuding an air of total control.
"Now go," he dismissed Alfonso with a flick of his wrist. "Watch him. Observe. And if my son thinks he can stand above me… then let him try. It will be amusing."
Alfonso bowed deeply and left, his heart pounding.
Krisian walked through the grand corridor, his royal cloak trailing behind him, his every step echoing against the cold stone floor. His expression was unreadable, his golden eyes reflecting a sharp intelligence masked beneath a calm exterior.
Inside the Gathering Hall, knights stood in rigid formation, their polished armor glinting under the torchlight. Some bore expressions of confusion, others of disdain. Krisian had never been one of them—never a warrior, never a leader in their eyes.
At the head of the room stood Alfonso, his face carefully neutral as he stepped forward and bowed.
"Your Highness, the knights have gathered as you requested."
Krisian's gaze swept across the room, noting the individuals Alfonso had chosen. As expected, they were men he could easily manipulate—loyal to the empire, but weak-minded and easy to control.
Or so Alfonso believed.
"Proceed," Krisian said coolly, taking his seat at the head of the table, his fingers laced together as he observed the gathering.
Alfonso turned to the knights and began the presentation.
"These are the warriors selected to serve under you, Your Highness. Each of them has demonstrated great skill and unwavering loyalty to the Empire. I have chosen those best suited to—"
"Enough," Krisian interrupted, his tone calm but firm. "I will decide who is best suited."
A ripple of unease passed through the room. Alfonso's jaw tightened, but he bowed his head in forced obedience.
Krisian rose from his chair, walking forward, studying the knights like a predator assessing prey. He could feel Henry stirring in his mind, his presence watchful but silent.
Then, after a long pause, Krisian smirked.
"I will ask only one question," he said, his voice carrying through the hall. "Do you swear your loyalty to me, and to me alone?"
A murmur passed between the knights. Some hesitated. Others nodded automatically, their obedience to the crown outweighing their doubts.
But Krisian wasn't interested in blind loyalty. He wanted something else.
His eyes settled on two particular knights standing at the edge of the group—the ones he had been waiting for. The ones who had suffered, who had been cast aside by the same nobles who now sought to control the kingdom.
They met his gaze, and in their eyes, he saw it—the same hatred that burned within him.
Krisian smiled.
This was the beginning.
The grand Gathering Hall fell into an eerie silence as Krisian's voice echoed, sharp and absolute. His golden eyes gleamed with power, his presence no longer that of the timid prince they once mocked.
Alfonso, standing his ground, clenched his fists. "Your Highness, you cannot dismiss me. I am the Chief Knight—I must oversee the affairs of the royal guard."
Krisian exhaled slowly, his patience thinning. "And yet, Alfonso, you seem to have forgotten your place." He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a deadly whisper. "I told you never to look me in the eye again. I warned you."
Alfonso scoffed, refusing to break eye contact. "You think you can command me just because you're acting like a king now? You were weak before—you will always be weak."
Henry's voice stirred in Krisian's mind, filled with fear. "Krisian, don't! He'll—"
But Krisian didn't hesitate.
Dark runes flared to life across his arms, twisting like living shadows as an overwhelming force crashed down upon Alfonso. The Chief Knight's body convulsed, his breath hitching as his legs buckled beneath him. His once proud figure crumpled to the ground, his limbs twisting unnaturally.
A sickening gasp left his lips as he realized—he couldn't control his body.
His back arched, his arms flattened against the cold floor, and then, to everyone's horror, he began to crawl—his body slithering like a snake.
Gasps erupted from the remaining knights. Some stepped back in shock; others clenched their jaws, too afraid to speak.
Krisian looked down at Alfonso with a cold smirk. "From this day forward, Alfonso, you are forbidden to ever look into my eyes. And whenever you are in my presence, you will crawl like the snake you are."
The runes pulsed once more, searing the command into Alfonso's very soul.
A chilling silence followed, broken only by Alfonso's ragged breaths as his body obeyed.
Krisian turned to the remaining knights, his expression unreadable. "For the rest of you, let this be a lesson. If you dare to defy me, you will suffer the same fate."
Panic spread through the knights like wildfire. They had once mocked Henry, but Krisian—this was someone else entirely.
"Leave. Now." Krisian's voice carried an authority they could not challenge.
The knights scattered instantly, rushing out of the hall in fear, their boots pounding against the stone floor as they disappeared into the corridors.
Only two remained—MG and Michael.