As the tarnished crown was placed on Cale's head, he felt the power of Covenant stir; the ruins trembled and Cale's essence flared up involuntarily.
It… taken up a color?
To his surprise, his essence took on a color, which doesn't happen to every aberrant, yet Cale's essence shone in a white light. And it took up white?
For a moment, Cale didn't know what to feel.
Each of the nine essence colors had certain properties, but white and black were already the rarest possible options for an Aberrant to gain.
And worst of all, even the rare cases when an Aberrant gained either of these essence colors, they varied case to case so much that there wasn't any intel gained on them after that.
His essence spread through the room without him commanding it to do so.
First, the light spread across the shattered throne, wrapping it in a gentle glow. The broken fragments stirred, lifting into the air one by one, slowly drifting back into place as the throne began to mend itself.
From the throne, his essence spread throughout the chamber.
The tattered remnants of the red carpet had faded long ago, losing its color, but slowly began to weave themselves back together, restoring its form and regaining its previous bright red color.
The essence coursed through the ground, lifting shattered stones into the air. Larger chunks drifted upward toward the broken ceiling, slowly piecing it back together and sealing the gaps.
The cold wind no longer howled into the throne room of the new Hollow King.
Slowly, the golden chandelier pieced itself back together and returned to its place on the ceiling. Cale's white cluster of essence ignited its candles, filling the throne room with a warm glow.
As his essence continued to spread, on Cale's back, beads of cold sweat formed from the exhausting use of essence.
But for an inexplicable reason, Cale didn't attempt to stop it.
Quite possibly for the first time in his life, he just stared ahead in wonder as the throne room around him slowly returned to its former glory.
Once the throne room was completely remade, his essence spread towards the long staircase and later into the rest of the grand hall.
I feel less resistance, and I also don't feel that exhausted anymore.
It was an inexplicable and strange feeling because he knew the reason straight away, as if it were instinctual.
Cale received a part of Gilran; through the fusion between the two, they were bound to one another, forcing Cale to take over his mantle as the Hollow King, but also granting him the powers that made him powerful in the first place.
At least a part of them, he was too weak a vessel as to receive everything that the hollow king was; for that, he had to become stronger.
One of these powers he gained from Gilran, the King of Hollows, is the very same one that lets him regenerate his essence at a pace faster than others.
A power called Citadel.
The ability to establish a zone and reign over it, akin to a monarch; however, he could only maintain one such zone at a time, at least for the time being.
And for some reason, he could only establish such a zone in the world shrouded in fog… ironically, what granted him the chance to return home to the cities in the sky confined him down here.
The powers granted to him by Gilran mostly ended there; Citadel was the largest part of his toolkit, but there was more to Citadel than a boost in essence regeneration.
Cale had absolute control while staying in the premises of his designated zone through the authority of Citadel.
I could even open up a crack as Gilran did… I could just go back to Nostra through a crack.
But this created another problem: while his blood weight was gone, he was essentially no one.
He didn't have any paperwork, no identification, or anything of the sort that he would need.
That has to be my first priority when I get back.
Soon, the rest of the citadel returned to the same condition it was in when he first got here.
But all of this posed another question.
What caused the death of Gilran?
He should have been at his best inside Citadel, but for some reason, he had to pass his legacy to someone else.
What even brought him to such a state?
He thought back to the way he got to know the King of Hollows in the first place, in a large gala held in his halls.
Could it be…?
All of a sudden, his ears perked up as he heard some quiet steps down the long stone staircase inlaid with gold.
People were climbing up the stairs.
Well… not exactly people.
Before he knew it, he wasn't wearing his previous suit but the same clothes Gilran wore before, the same tattered black robe and the same crown, except it didn't appear rusted.
There were four figures, but none of them had a face of their own.
Subjects of Gilran.
At least they were the servants of Gilran, but now they served him.
"Your majesty, did you call on us?" Asked the faceless servant standing in the front.
For a moment, Cale felt lost. I never called for them…
So that's what he meant by putting up an act? He had been dying for a while now, and maintaining his own zone took way too much of him, while the strain isn't big, even I feel some of it, so what was the strain on someone dying?
That would have explained what made the King of Hollows so desperate to pass on his legacy that he would even hand it to Cale.
Someone who doesn't even care about his own life, how could someone like that lead a kingdom?
Easy… he couldn't.
So what drove him to such a state?
Cale slowly turned to the faceless attendants, gesturing for them to follow him without speaking. He sat down on his bronze throne, and the cold gray eyes of the Hollow King stared deeply at the faceless attendants.
"Yes, I did call for you." The Hollow King's voice came out low. "Humor me with something."
"What would it be, your majesty?" The faceless attendant with blood over his featureless face and high-quality suit — Hunter, or at least what he became.
"Why did I hold today's event?"
Without even batting an eye, not like they could bat an eye, the same faceless attendant answered. "To initiate peace talks between the Catastrophe known as Deadman's Wonderland, but seeing as he failed to make an appearance, your majesty called for a war council."
All of a sudden, Cale felt exhausted already.
"How much time is left until the war council?"
"It's in two hours, your Majesty. But Sir Renoir asked for a private meeting." Said the faceless Hunter.
Cale never felt more exhausted.
"When can I expect him?"
"He is already here, your majesty."
Holding back an exhausted sigh, Cale signaled to "his" faceless attendants to let the Entity called Renoir in.
Did Deadman's Wonderland assassinate Gilran? Or is there a traitor in his court?
Neither of these options meant anything good for Cale; in case of a traitor, he had to be on the lookout nonstop in fear of getting assassinated.
And if it's the latter, that would mean that the upcoming enemy is someone who possibly could assassinate the former King of Hollows in the middle of his Citadel.
A silent step echoed.
Then another.
Even with the chandelier casting its warm glow, the room felt dark and suffocating. The shadows stretched outwards unnaturally; they were darker than normal shadows — they swallowed the light.
From the large throne, the head of a figure popped up first, a cloud of black mist with numerous eyeballs swirling in the cluster of obsidian fog.
The Entity politely bowed, the fog curling in such a way that it gave the appearance of a chilling grin.
"Greetings… your Majesty."