The forest was silent after the Core Hunters vanished.
Silent… but not peaceful.
The trees leaned like blackened skeletons, their branches clawing at the dark sky as if begging the stars for mercy.
Lian stood at the edge of the crater, the glow in his chest dimming at last. The Tyrant's Heart had grown quiet, but its silence felt worse than the whispers.
Like it was… waiting.
The Core King broke the stillness first.
"We leave now," he said, voice even but sharp.
"Where?" Lian asked.
"South. To the Ruins of Arkenfall. The first Tyrant rose there, long before kingdoms, long before the Cores fell. If there's any place left with answers, it's there."
Lian studied him. "And you know this because…?"
The Core King's eyes glinted faintly beneath his hood.
"Because I was there when he fell," he said quietly.
Lian froze.
The man had lived through the Tyrant's reign? Through the wars that shattered empires?
Before Lian could press further, the Core King was already walking, steps crunching over ash.
"We move before the Beast Tide spreads," he said. "The fragments stir them to frenzy. This place will be crawling before sunrise."
Lian followed reluctantly, hand drifting to his chest.
Each beat of the Heart felt heavier than the last.
He'd taken his first Forbidden Core tonight. His first evolution.
And already, power coiled inside him like a caged beast, surging against his veins, demanding to be let loose.
Was this what the Tyrant had felt?
The thought unsettled him more than he wanted to admit.
By dawn, the forest thinned into the broken remains of what once might have been a city.
Crumbling spires leaned like weary giants. Bridges of black stone hung shattered over rivers of dust.
And at its heart, a single tower rose—a cracked monolith half-swallowed by vines and shadow.
Arkenfall.
The city where kings had knelt before the Tyrant… and then burned with him.
"Stay close," the Core King murmured.
The air here was heavier. Wrong.
Even the wind seemed afraid to touch the ruins.
Inside the tower, faint carvings lined the walls.
Lian traced one with his fingers—an image of nine burning stars chained together above a kneeling world.
Nine Cores.
The Nine Tyrants.
But the carvings told something else too: a tenth figure, above even the nine, wreathed in shadow.
The Absolute Tyrant? Or something worse?
The Core King studied the carvings grimly. "This is what remains of the world before the Cores fell," he said. "Each Tyrant claimed one fragment. Together, they ruled not just kingdoms, but the skies themselves."
Lian looked at the kneeling figures below the stars.
"Humanity?" he asked.
The Core King's mouth twisted. "Slaves," he said.
Lian said nothing.
Because deep down, the Tyrant's Heart throbbed with faint amusement, as if it remembered this history firsthand.
Like it remembered owning it.
A sudden noise echoed through the ruins—low, guttural, like stone grinding on bone.
The Core King's sword was out instantly.
"Beast?" Lian asked.
The King shook his head slowly.
"Worse," he said.
From the shadows of the tower stepped figures draped in ragged cloaks, their faces hidden behind masks carved from old Core fragments.
They moved silently, carrying weapons that shimmered faintly with corrupted light.
"Scavengers," the Core King muttered. "Core-worshipers. They believe the fragments are divine. That the Tyrants were gods, not monsters."
One stepped forward, voice echoing hollow through the mask.
"Give us the Heart," it rasped. "The Heart returns to its throne."
Lian stiffened.
More whispers slithered through his veins at the words, the Tyrant's Heart thrumming like a war drum.
Yes, it whispered faintly. The throne… mine…
Lian shook his head violently, forcing the voice down.
"We're not here for trouble," the Core King said evenly.
"Then leave the Heart," the masked figure replied.
The others raised their weapons—blades of stone and star-metal humming faintly with power.
Lian drew his broken sword. "They're not leaving us a choice."
The fight erupted fast.
The scavengers moved with feral speed, Core energy crackling along their blades.
Lian blocked one strike, then another, the Tyrant's Heart flooding his limbs with raw power. Each swing of his sword grew heavier, faster—too fast.
One scavenger fell, then another.
And each kill made the Heart sing.
"Control it!" the Core King snapped as Lian cut down a third attacker in a single blow. "You're burning yourself out!"
Lian didn't answer.
Because the Heart's whispers drowned everything out now.
More, it urged. More blood. More power. More…
He nearly didn't hear the arrow.
It whistled from the shadows, tipped with Core-light, and struck him square in the chest.
Lian staggered back, the world spinning.
The arrow didn't pierce flesh.
It pierced the Heart.
A shockwave ripped through him.
The Tyrant's Heart roared inside his veins, furious, power boiling out of control.
The scavengers fell back, some screaming, others kneeling like zealots before a storm.
And for one terrifying heartbeat, Lian felt his mind… slip.
Felt something else looking out through his eyes.
Then the Core King was there, sword flashing, cutting down the last of the scavengers in a single blazing arc.
The survivors fled into the ruins, leaving only silence and smoke behind.
Lian dropped to one knee, clutching his chest.
The arrow was gone—disintegrated by the Heart's fury—but its mark remained, a faint crack of glowing light across his ribs.
Like the Heart itself had been… wounded.
Or awakened.
The Core King sheathed his sword. "This place isn't safe," he said. "But now you see what hunts the Heart. And what it calls to."
Lian stared down at his trembling hands, whispers crawling like fire through his blood.
Nine Forbidden Cores.
Nine tyrants waiting to wake.
And one Heart beating louder than all the rest.