The ruined cathedral was a storm of death.
Assassins flowed like water through broken rafters and shattered windows, their blades whispering arcs of silver light. Kael's shadows surged to meet them—knights of obsidian steel, cloaked wraiths, beasts of black flame. Violet fire clashed against poisoned steel, filling the chamber with sparks and screams.
Kael stood at the center, still as a throne, cloak billowing in the turbulence of battle. His eyes glowed faintly, his voice low and commanding.
"Arise."
More shadows erupted from the floor, swelling his legion. The assassins faltered, but not for long—their formation shifted instantly, blades weaving patterns designed to cut not flesh, but spirits. Each strike landed where his summons were weakest, severing limbs of shadow, unraveling forms into smoke.
Kael's gaze narrowed. These are not pawns. They've studied my kind.
One assassin hurled a vial. It shattered midair, spraying acid that hissed as it struck Kael's knights, eating through armor of void. Another leapt high, wires snapping outward from his gauntlets, coiling around a shadow's neck before pulling tight.
They moved without fear, without hesitation, trained to dismantle creatures beyond men.
Kael raised his hand. Shadows surged, intercepting, but a dagger slipped through, grazing his shoulder. Pain flared sharp and hot.
The blade dripped with venom. His muscles clenched instantly, refusing to respond.
Kael's jaw tightened. Poison meant for kings.
But he was no king. He was Sovereign.
He whispered into the Veil.
"Drink."
The shadows around his wound swarmed inward, devouring the poison as though it were sustenance. The venom hissed, dissolved, and vanished. His muscles loosened. His arm flexed once more.
The assassin who had struck him froze, disbelief flickering in his eyes.
Kael's lips curved faintly. "You should have aimed deeper."
His shadow shot upward, impaling the man through the chest.
But the assassins were relentless. For every one that fell, two pressed harder, their movements synchronized with deadly precision.
Kael whispered another command.
"Legion."
From the cathedral floor rose a dozen figures at once—soldiers with broken shields, hunters with bows of void, wolves of shadow snarling with violet flame in their throats. The assassins faltered as the tide shifted, overwhelmed by sheer numbers.
The wolves tore through their ranks, fangs snapping. Arrows of shadow rained from above, driving them into defensive knots.
Kael walked forward, calm, deliberate, as his legion tore apart the intruders.
"You thought me bound to numbers," he said softly, though his voice carried across the chamber. "You thought me king of pawns. But shadows are infinite. And you are not."
His hand swept outward. The cathedral darkened further, as though even the night outside recoiled. The assassins' movements slowed, their forms dragged down by invisible chains.
One by one, they fell—some sliced apart by voidsteel, others swallowed whole by the floor. Their screams echoed briefly before silence claimed them.
Only one remained. The masked leader, his blade glowing faintly with runes. He stood amidst the carnage, his breath ragged, his stance still sharp.
Kael approached slowly, his steps echoing on the stone.
"Your contract is fulfilled," Kael said. "You have failed."
The assassin's grip tightened on his blade. "I do not fear failure. My oath is to Selene Varadis."
Kael's eyes glimmered violet. "Then carry her a message."
He gestured. Shadows coiled around the assassin's legs, lifting him from the ground. His mask cracked, revealing eyes wide with fury, not fear.
Kael stepped closer, his voice low.
"Tell her the Monarch bleeds. Tell her she almost struck true. And then tell her…" His lips curved razor-thin. "…that she will not live to try again."
He released him. The assassin hit the ground hard, coughing blood. He staggered to his feet and stumbled into the night, shadows parting to let him flee.
Kael turned away. His legion melted back into the gloom, silent once more.
The cathedral was quiet again. Too quiet. The Eye of Dusk pulsed against Kael's chest, faster, hungrier. The relic had feasted on the chaos, and now its whispers sharpened into something clearer.
"Consume more. Grow. The throne remembers only those who drown the world in shadow."
Kael exhaled slowly, steadying himself. His fingers brushed the orb. "I will not be consumed. I will command."
The shadows around him stirred, bowing low.
And in the silence, Kael smiled faintly.
Selene had played her hand. He had answered.
The war was no longer of whispers. It was of blood and spectacle, of shadow and flame.
And the city of Midgar would never forget the night the Sovereign bled—and did not fall.
On a spire beyond the square, crimson eyes gleamed.
Cid leaned forward, his grin wide. "He let the assassin go… as a messenger. Ha! That's perfect."
He chuckled, his voice carrying into the wind.
"Shadow Monarch… you're not just playing the role. You are the role."
His smirk widened, almost feral.
"And when the curtain falls, I wonder whose legend the world will remember—yours, or mine?"