Chapter 21 – The Army Game (Part 9: The Devil's Throne)
The fortress trembled. Metal screeched, stone crumbled, and the floor beneath their feet split apart as the entire battlefield twisted into a nightmare.
The glowing text burned into the sky:
"Final Phase: Command Throne.
Only one commander may sit upon the throne.
All others… are expendable."
The chamber reformed into a towering throne room — walls lined with shattered flags, broken weapons, and bloodstained banners of fallen armies. At the far end, atop a dais of cracked stone, stood the throne: massive, jagged, forged from black steel and bone.
The meaning was clear.
To claim victory, someone had to sit upon that seat.
But it wasn't as simple as walking up to it. The room seethed with traps, shifting floors, and glowing runes that pulsed with lethal energy. And worst of all — the rules encouraged betrayal.
Only one could wear the crown.
Aya's hands shook as she gripped Arata's sleeve. "N-no… they want us to fight each other…"
Haruto slammed his fist against the wall. "Damn it! After everything we went through—!"
Riku sneered, his glare fixed on Arata. "This is it, isn't it? The perfect stage for you. You've been waiting for this moment from the start."
Sayaka adjusted her glasses, eyes narrowed, but her lips curved into a sly smirk. "A devil's coronation."
Ren let out a soft laugh, licking her lips. "Mmm… I'd love to watch you sit on that throne, Arata. How many of us will you burn to get there?"
The survivors were unraveling.
Already, whispers of betrayal spread. Some clutched their weapons tighter. Others backed away, trembling, knowing the rules had turned them into enemies.
The game had done its job perfectly: it broke the alliance, stripped away the façade, and forced them into chaos.
And in that chaos, Arata stepped forward.
He didn't raise his voice. He didn't shout.
He simply spoke — calm, steady, razor-sharp.
"Listen to me."
The chamber quieted.
"You think this throne is a prize? It isn't. It's bait. The game wants us to tear each other apart so only one survives. But survival isn't about crowns. It's about control. Sit on the throne… and you become the next target. Stay in the shadows… and you rule without ever being seen."
His smile widened, soft and dangerous. "So let the others scramble for the seat. I'll decide who deserves to sit there."
It was madness. It was brilliance.
Some of them were drawn in — Sayaka's eyes gleamed with dangerous admiration, Ren practically shivered in excitement, Aya clung to him tighter as if he was the only safe place left.
But Haruto and Riku… their glares sharpened. Suspicion curdled into something darker.
And above them all, the throne pulsed with ominous red light, as if waiting for its king.
The Final Phase had begun.
Not a battle for survival. Not a fight for victory.
A war for the crown — and Arata had already decided how to play it.
He wasn't going to take the throne.
He was going to make the throne bow to him.