He stared at the beautiful pitch-black shard with wide eyes, wondering what it was. With the slightest force of his grip, it shattered. Something began to radiate, flooding the air with a presence he couldn't explain, something almost uncanny.
[Only one shall rule the throne.]
[Condition met: Last one standing.]
[Do you accept the trial for the throne?]
[Yes / No]
He looked down at the handsome blond swordsman, dumbfounded.
'This bastard was planning to kill them all from the beginning.'
He let the choices linger for a moment. Yes or no. The sane part of him wanted to be cautious, but his curiosity got the better of him.
"I have to see—no, I must know what could drive a man to even consider sacrificing his own friends."
'I mean, it does say throne… maybe they'll make us king.'
For a moment, he hesitated. Then he killed the thought before it could grow.
'C'mon. Don't be a baby.'
"Fine, fine. Yes… I accept."
The ground beneath his feet cracked until the floor itself gave way to nothing but pure darkness. Empty. The hunters' bodies dropped into the void. The chamber shattered. The emptiness stretched vast and endless.
But it didn't last. Trees rose from the ground, dense and unyielding. Then the sky took form, reshaping the world like he was watching creation itself unfold.
And behind him rose a massive castle from the ground. But something was wrong. Behind him, the forest lit up with sunlight.
Even though the sun rose above the castle, its light never touched the walls. The black stone swallowed it whole, erasing dawn itself. No shadow moved. It was as if the world had been split between day and night.
The gate groaned open, as if it hadn't moved in decades, welcoming him in. He walked through without a second thought. Who was there to stop him? No one.
Inside the castle stood countless statues of men and women.
No, calling them human felt wrong. They were kings and queens, frozen in stone, untouched by time, yet radiating a presence that felt godly.
He passed one after another, at least a hundred. Stone saints crouched on either side, frozen in their holy poses. He glanced between them, wondering which idiot carved such expressions, because he wanted one of himself.
At the end awaited a massive black door.
He was eager to know what lay beyond. He didn't hesitate. Nothing could surprise him at this point.
Without a second thought, he pulled it open. For something so heavy, it yielded the moment he touched it.
And before him stood a throne.
Sitting on it was a figure. It wore pitch-black armor, head gently resting on its fist, staring at the door he had entered through.
The figure sat frozen, no different from the stone saints he had seen.
Beside it rested a beautiful longsword, so dark it seemed forged from pure darkness. Its sheer presence radiated power without even being drawn.
He strode closer, gaze still wandering across the throne room, oblivious.
Just then, the armor cracked, like it moved for the first time in decades. Dust flowed from the gaps as its head turned toward him. Crimson ruby eyes flickered once before blazing fully to life.
"Are you worthy to be my king?"
It felt like a simple question, yet it was not. Thoughts exploded in his mind. What would happen if he said yes, or no? Up until this point, nothing had seemed normal. Talking snakes, superhumans, everything was a mess.
He opened his mouth, only to say:
"What…"
The armored man rose. Each movement rattled its armor loose, spilling out a dark purple glow from the cracks.
One thing he knew for sure—something ancient was buried in that shell, and his stupid choice had awakened it.
'What the hell is that?'
He sighed quietly. "Human? No. I doubt anyone is in there. Just a hollow shell."
'Oh, sure. A hollow shell that'll crush your skull. Real comforting.'
"Focus."
The armor grabbed the longsword and raised it overhead. Without giving him a moment to rethink his life choices, it moved with lightning speed.
Its massive frame loomed above him in a matter of seconds as the ebony blade came crashing down.
He rolled to the side, barely dodging the devastating blow.
The impact split the ground, dust exploding outward.
The knight tilted its head, its ruby eyes fixed on him in a murderous stare. Cold sweat ran down his back. He staggered as waves of familiar memories rose under its gaze.
"Are you worthy to be my master?"
The armored knight straightened, rising to its full height, towering over him. In the visor's reflection, he saw himself—small, fragile, almost breakable. The part he had hidden for so long was now staring back at him.
Gritting his teeth, he stepped forward and lifted his head high, meeting its ruby eyes.
"How dare you look down on me, you damn tin can."
The fear he'd felt a moment ago vanished. Those empty eyes staring down at him were no different from the ones his father carried before casting him aside.
"You asked if I was worthy to be your master. Tell me, why would I want someone who fights with a blade while I stand unarmed? I'm not interested in a knight without pride."
'I see what you're doing.'
The knight plunged its blade into the center of the room, then moved toward him. Its movements made no sound, precise and fluid, carrying the weight of a man who had once been more than human.
"I served countless kings. I watched them die. But I remain, still waiting. Never perishing."
He studied the beast. For a moment, there was something in its voice that almost sounded like sorrow.
"Quit yapping and come at me."
The void knight lunged, bringing down its armored fist with crushing force.
He twisted his body just enough to dodge the blow and his hands clamped onto its massive arm. Planting his foot and using the momentum from its strike, he slammed its armored body onto the ground.
The impact shook the chamber, stone cracking beneath the armored body.
The knight got right back up like nothing had happened.
'Oh, we are so dead.'
"Shut up, and focus. I'll keep it busy while you think of a way to win this."
It lunged again, faster. The strike tore through the air. Too fast to dodge. He threw his arms up, blocking just in time, but the blow still sent painful tremors through his arms.
From there, the beating got worse, each blow hitting harder than the last.
"Got any plan? You know I can't do both," he muttered.
'Shut up, I'm trying,' his inner voice snapped back.
"Do it fast."
He couldn't think, couldn't even block, but the voice inside broke through. A part of him, born from years of solitude. Not a spirit, not a ghost. Just something he had made to keep himself company.
"Damn it… how does something forged from metal move this fast?"
He dodged as much as he could, deflecting the strikes he managed to see. But countless wounds still piled up across his body.
Something strange stirred throughout the beating. His body burned, not from pain but from something else. The agony dulled with each strike. He felt faster. Stronger.
The knight grabbed his face and hurled him toward the throne. His back slammed onto the throne's backrest.
He looked at the monster, bared his teeth in a wide grin as crimson welled in his eyes and slid down his cheeks like tears.
"I don't know what's happening… but I feel good—no, I feel amazing. So come at me, you stupid tin can!"
Using the throne's backrest, he shot himself like a loaded spring toward the ebony knight.
They traded blow after blow. The black armor began to dent under his strikes, but the knight never slowed, never weakened. It fought as if pain didn't exist.
'Of course it doesn't feel pain—it's damned metal. Doesn't matter. Follow our plan.'
"Okay."
He spat a mouthful of blood into its eyes. The knight's hand shot up, clawing to clear its vision.
He moved in, wrapping his arms and legs around its arm, twisting as hard as he could, trying to rip the armor off.
But the knight swung with brutal force, hurling him into the wall like a ragdoll.
He twisted his body midair as he was flung toward the wall.
Then, using the wall, he propelled himself back at the knight. His knee crashed into its helm with violent force. The blow snapped the armored giant's head to the side.
It moved, trying to realign its head.
But he used that opening to strike. He shot toward the sword, seized it, and drove the blade deep into the knight's chest.
From the corner of the room, the severed armored head spoke, its voice hollow.
"You cheated… you used a weapon."
He limped toward the head as the body dropped to one knee.
"It's because I am no knight. I'm an assassin. You and I are different. You are loyal, bound by duty. I am willing to do anything to win. Not because I fear death, but because I fear losing."
He reattached the head to the armored body and gripped the sword.
"You can swear loyalty to me and help me achieve my goal… or I can grant you peace, so you no longer have to serve anyone."
The knight lowered itself onto one knee.
"My king… I offer you my loyalty."
He pulled the sword free from its chest and placed it back into the knight's hands. The figure sank slowly into his shadow, swallowed whole.
[Trial of the Throne: Completed.]
[A New King Has Risen.]
[Would you like to return?]
[Yes / No]
With an exhausting sigh, he pressed Yes.
The world twisted, then he was back in the chamber, as if he had never left. The lifeless bodies of the hunters lay at his feet. Still dead. Still limp.