Dawn was quiet.
No horns. No alarms. No soldiers chasing shadows. Just the distant chirp of birds and the low hum of magic tracks far from the village center.
Auron, Mira, and Jace stood at the edge of the road, cloaked and ready. The horses they borrowed from the old merchant yard were armored lightly, enchanted to remain silent even over gravel.
The capital lay six days northeast—through ravaged hills, war-torn ruins, and watch posts crawling with elite guards.
But Auron didn't fear distance.
He feared time.
Every day the False King sat on that throne was another day the truth withered from the world.
The Hollow King didn't come to ask.
He came to take.
---
By midday, they reached the valley of Grathorn — once a mining outpost now buried in ash. The trees were black stumps. The earth cracked with pale green lines, glowing faintly from failed arcane experiments of the war.
Mira's horse slowed as she scanned the hills.
"We're not alone," she said.
Auron already knew.
The system warned him minutes ago.
\[Signature Detected: Hostile Enchanters – Class C]
\[Stealth Field Active – Mirage Cloaks in Use]
\[Count: 4]
\[Threat Level: Moderate]
"They're testing us," Auron said. "Waiting to see if we notice."
Jace slipped off his horse. "Should we act first?"
"No," Auron replied.
"They already made their mistake."
He dropped to one knee and touched the earth.
The mask pulsed.
Shadows slithered from his fingertips, crawling along the ground like smoke until they reached the four hidden figures atop the cliffs. In seconds, each figure stiffened—frozen in place.
Then—
**"Echo Split."**
From Auron's side, a flicker of shadow peeled off his body, forming a perfect illusion of him.
The clone ran up the trail, drawing the attention of the ambushers.
Auron didn't follow.
He *appeared* behind them instead.
One slash.
Two.
Three.
Four.
All of them collapsed before they could scream.
He walked back to the group, brushing blood from his gauntlet.
Mira raised a brow. "That wasn't just skill."
"No," he said. "It was memory."
---
They made camp that night under a broken bridge.
The fire burned low, carefully shielded by rock and warding symbols Mira etched into the dirt.
Jace finally spoke after hours of silence.
"I heard a story once," he said, not looking at either of them. "About a prince who was born with a twin heart. One beat for the people. The other… for something else."
Auron said nothing.
"The story said the second heart wasn't a curse. It was a key."
Mira leaned forward. "And the story ended how?"
Jace swallowed. "The prince died. But the *key* didn't."
Auron nodded slowly.
"That story's not over yet."
---
The capital rose from the horizon on the fourth day.
White walls. Silver towers. Shields of floating crystal orbiting the royal palace like a second sky. The air shimmered with magical interference, and the clouds above were unnaturally still.
"The city looks even more fortified than last time I saw it," Mira said.
"They're not protecting a king," Auron muttered. "They're protecting a lie."
The system flickered.
\[Final Fragment Detected – Distance: 9.4 km]
\[Warning: Barrier Grade – Divine Class]
\[Combat Entry Recommended: High Stealth or Distraction Tactic]
Auron stared at the city gates. Hundreds of armored guards lined the outer walls. Anti-teleportation sigils glowed from every corner tower. Sky-beasts patrolled above, trained to attack anything with Abyssal signatures.
"They're expecting someone," Jace said.
"No," Auron replied. "They're hoping no one comes."
Mira tilted her head. "You got a plan?"
Auron reached into his coat and pulled out a thin, cracked ring.
It glowed black and silver.
"The old path."
Jace's eyes widened. "You mean… the tunnels beneath the throne?"
Auron nodded.
"Every king forgets the roots beneath his own palace."
---
That night, they camped closer to the ruins outside the capital walls — where old sewer systems and forbidden catacombs still whispered secrets no light dared to chase.
Auron stood alone as the stars blinked into the sky.
The mask pulsed faintly in his hand.
The system chimed once more.
\[Fragment Resonance: 91%]
\[Final Confrontation Approaches]
\[Pathfork Approaching – Choice Will Determine Mask's True Form]
He stared at the stars, jaw tight.
"I'm not afraid of the throne."
A faint voice replied in his mind—something not quite the mask, not quite the system.
**"Then you're ready to break it."**
And from the capital, far beyond the silver towers and divine walls, the False King awoke with a start.
He looked toward the east tower window, sweat trailing down his brow.
"He's coming," he whispered.
The shadows in the corner of the throne room shivered in reply.
And the mirror, untouched, cracked ever so slightly.