The night was unnaturally still.
Allen stood at the edge of the Vessan estate, his heart pounding against his ribs. Mist clung to the ground like a warning, curling around his boots as if trying to pull him back.
"This isn't fear," he told himself.
"Just tension. Just nerves. I've faced worse. I've survived worse."
But the feeling wouldn't go away.
Something deep inside him knew and he was trying desperately to deny it.
Two guards patrolled the outer gardens cloaked in silver armor, lightning-etched across their chests. House Vessan's elite.
Allen didn't fight.
He vanished.
From shadow to shadow, he moved like a ripple of ink across still water.
The first guard felt a breeze behind him.
He turned only to see his partner's face twisted in terror, eyes wide, lips moving silently.
Then his own senses betrayed him.
He smelled fire.
Tasted ash.
His skin crawled as if insects danced beneath it.
"Wh-what's happening?!"
He swung blindly.
Allen wasn't there.
He was already inside his head manipulating his senses, whispering illusions, feeding fear directly into his soul. The guard collapsed to his knees, clutching at nothing, before his body was swallowed in shadow.
One by one, Allen erased them.
No blood.
No screams.
Just fear.
And silence.
Allen stood before the towering Vessan gate black metal veined with silver, pulsing faintly with stored lightning. His breath was shallow. His nerves frayed.
"No more delays. Get in. Get Lara. Get out."
He reached forward, channeling a thread of darkness to twist the locks CLANG.
He spun.
Nothing behind him.
No presence.
No heartbeat.
No SERRA signature.
"Wait. I didn't sense anything. Not even thoughts…"
Then Impact.
A blur.
Allen's body folded around a strike to the chest, thrown back like a ragdoll. He hit the stone steps with a sickening crack, ribs groaning under the force.
He gasped looked up and saw his enemy.
A man cloaked in plain black. No armor. No aura. Just stillness.
His face was blank.
As if even the gods had forgotten him.
Allen growled, forcing himself upright.
Darkness erupted from his skin tendrils of shadow, blades of illusion, waves of pressure. He unleashed everything.
The man didn't flinch.
He moved through Allen's attacks like he already knew them.
Allen teleported behind him, struck with a serrated whip of shadow missed.
He twisted through the air, launched bolts of black lightning missed again.
Every strike.
Every feint.
Predicted.
"Why can't I read him?! Why can't I even feel him!?"
His breathing turned ragged. Vision blurred. Pain seared down his side.
Only one move left.
With a scream, Allen summoned every drop of SERRA in his soul. Darkness curled violently around his arm as he hurled his spear like a comet forged in hell.
It struck.
Dead center.
A direct hit.
The man didn't move.
The light dimmed.
The smoke cleared.
Not a scratch.
Allen's eyes widened.
"No... that's impossible… that was everything"
CRACK.
A sudden, brutal punch slammed into Allen's liver.
He didn't feel it at first.
Just cold.
Then pain exploding inside him.
His knees buckled. Blood spilled from his lips. The world tilted.
"I… lost?"
Darkness swallowed him whole.
When Allen opened his eyes, the world was spinning.
Golden chandeliers shimmered above, casting soft light over velvet drapes and polished marble. Music played softly from unseen instruments. Laughter echoed through the chamber.
He blinked.
His limbs felt heavy. The air smelled of incense, perfume
and blood.
He sat up slowly.
Then froze.
Corpses.
Small. Fragile. Torn apart.
Children.
Dozens of them, strewn across the floor like decorations for a feast. Limbs severed. Torsos split open. Faces peeled. Stomachs hollowed. Their tiny hands still clutched broken jewelry, stuffed toys.
Allen stumbled backward, slipped in a puddle of blood, and vomited.
The music continued.
The guests kept laughing.
They danced. They drank.
Every one of them wore a golden mask shaped like animals, demons, or smiling angels.
"What... is this...?"
Allen gritted his teeth, forcing himself to breathe.
Then a voice spoke.
"Ah... you're awake."
Allen turned.
A tall man stood at the edge of the light, dressed in black and silver. No mask. Pale skin. Slicked-back hair. Cold eyes.
Robert Vessan.
Head of House Vessan. Known not for power but for manipulation.
He raised a wine glass in greeting.
"Well, well... the Iron Prince joins the festivities."
Allen staggered to his feet.
"What the hell is this?! Explain this farce!"
Robert arched an eyebrow.
"Farce? No, no. This is tradition. Celebration. Freedom."
He took a slow sip.
"I heard you were a monster. A warrior. I thought you could stomach our entertainment."
He clapped his hands.
"Servants. Clean this mess. Our guest seems... disturbed."
From behind velvet curtains, they emerged.
Men. Women. Children.
Dressed in white, their faces blank, eyes clouded, movements stiff and puppet-like.
One knelt and began wiping blood with her bare hands, humming softly. Another leaned in to gently clean the mouth of a beast feasting on a child's remains.
Allen's throat locked.
"You... turned them into slaves," he whispered.
Robert nodded.
"Survivors. Strays. Those who refused to die properly. I simply... improved them. No pain. No rebellion. Just purpose."
Allen trembled.
"You're not noble. You're filth."
Robert smiled.
"No, prince. I am necessary."
He stepped forward, voice calm.
"I was born weak. No power. No name. But I built this. With patience. Sacrifice. Mind over blood."
He raised a finger.
"And then came you."
Allen narrowed his eyes.
"You poisoned Lyra."
Robert tilted his head.
"My nephews got careless. You played hero. You drew attention. I removed the girl. Quietly."
He sighed.
"It cost a fortune. But I always hated people like you. Born with power. Given names. Given kingdoms."
Allen's fists clenched.
"Wait until Ikki returns. You'll face hell."
The guests roared with laughter.
Then SLAP.
A woman stepped forward. Robert's wife. Marta Vessan.
"Lower your voice, child."
Robert nodded.
"Your brother was terrifying. One of the Twelve Kings. The third strongest."
He stepped close.
"But now he's gone."
Allen froze.
"You're lying."
Robert smiled.
"All Against One. A trap. A betrayal. He vanished. No body. No trace. Just silence."
Allen whispered, "No..."
But a thought cut through the fog.
Thorne.
I still have Thorne. I can trade him. Save Lara. Escape...
Allen's voice rang through the chamber.
"Silence."
The room stilled.
"You're only laughing because you think you've won. But I still have Thorne."
From the shadow behind him Thorne emerged.
Dragged by the Iron Chain, bound and bloodied. One eye shut. The other barely open.
"Allen…" he whispered. "Please... send me back... to the Shadowverse. I don't want to die like this."
Allen blinked. "W-What are you talking about? I'm not going to kill you. Just act like it."
Thorne's eye trembled in despair.
"You don't understand…"
But Allen didn't.
He thought he was bluffing. He thought he was in control.
He was wrong.
"You really think I care?" Robert said coldly.
Allen stiffened. "He's your son."
Robert laughed.
"He's a creation. Built 300 years ago. You think I care about a toy that breathes?"
He stepped forward.
"Kill him. You won't. You're not a killer. Just a scared boy pretending to be dangerous."
Allen hesitated.
Robert saw it.
Slash.
One of Robert's men stepped forward
Thorne's throat was cut.
Blood sprayed. His body twitched then stilled.
His head rolled across the marble
and stopped at Allen's feet.
Allen collapsed.
"No... I didn't mean I was just "
Robert leaned down.
"He begged you. And you ignored him."
"You killed him, Allen."
Allen couldn't breathe.
Then
"Ah, yes. The girl. Lara, was it?"
Robert gestured.
Two guards entered, carrying a long wooden shaft.
At its top
Lara's severed head.
Her eyes still open.
Still kind.
Frozen in the last moment she saved Allen.
His soul broke.
"She gave you food," Robert said. "Hope. You were supposed to rot in that hole. She ruined it."
"So I made sure she paid."
"And now… no one remembers the names of the dead."
Allen didn't move.
The crowd laughed again.
But his eyes
Empty. Hollow. And inside something stirred.
A black fire. Writhing. Growing.
Robert didn't notice.
"You were dangerous once," he said. "With the Iron Chain."
"But now? You're just a broken boy."
"Let's end this."
A flash of red.
Allen's head flew into the air.
His body dropped to its knees. Blood splashed across the marble.
Silence.
Even the crowd went quiet.
The same executioner who killed Thorne now stood behind Allen. Blade still dripping.
Robert exhaled.
"Finally. It's done."
He turned to the nobles.
"Let the world know
The Iron Chain has fallen."
But beneath the marble, far below the feast and the dead,
something stirred.
It was not Allen.
Not anymore.