The King, like a living shadow, rose slowly from his seat, the creaking of the throne beneath his movent echoing like the echoes of a forgotten world. His figure was imposing, his presence absorbing the light in the room, and when his feet touched the floor, everything in the room seed to shudder. The already heavy air beca thick, as if the castle itself were holding its breath at the magnitude of what was about to happen.
With a slow and precise movent, as well as that characteristic confidence, he began to walk toward the eting room. Each step he took resonated on the floor like a Titan, and the shadows around him lengthened as if responding to his will. He had no intentions, nor was he in a hurry, but his every movent radiated absolute power, an imposing calm that perated the veins of those who followed him.
"Let’s go." The king’s voice wasn’t a shout, nor a roar; it was rely a normal, monotonous tone, but it contained a power that vibrated in the flesh of those present, like a command that admitted no response, only obedience. It was a mixture of sufficiency and disdain, as if there was no need for others to understand as long as they obeyed. For him, there were no explanations. Only actions.
Everything in his path seed to darken even more, as if rely being in his presence could swallow the light itself. The Duke and Duchess, almost breathless at the palpable authority emanating from the Lord of the Throne, began to move swiftly. The Duchess of Zamora, with a gesture full of respect and fear, stepped forward, followed by the others, not daring to utter another word. This was not the ti to argue, not even to breathe too deeply.
The eting room was located at the end of the corridor, the stone walls blocking any sound other than their footsteps. Soon the atmosphere was filled with a dense silence, barely broken by the creaking of the wood under the weight of their footsteps. As they drew closer, the air grew heavier, as if a deeper darkness began to envelop them. The walls, covered in ancient runes and symbols, seed to watch them.
The king stopped before the door to the eting room, a gigantic structure of dark wood, adorned with strange, twisted carvings that almost seed to move on their own. With a simple gesture of his hand, the door opened, its hinges creaking with a guttural sound, as if resisting the very weight of the darkness emanating from that place.
As they entered, the room was lit by black candles that emitted a sickly light, as if fueled by sothing not of this world. The long table in the center was surrounded by chairs made of human skin.
The king looked at everyone present for a mont, his gaze impassive like a dark tide sweeping everything in its path. Without another word, he entered the head of the table, his presence so overwhelming that even breathing was difficult. He sat on the edge, his figure impeccable, and with a gesture of his hand, indicated that the others should sit.
***
『Cyan’s Perspective』
What I witnessed was out of this world, so incredible that I found it hard to believe. When Erwing faced the demon, sothing shattered in the air, as if reality itself yielded to the magnitude of what was happening. His movents, so precise and perfect, were almost imperceptible to the human eye. Every ti the demon attacked, it seed that ti vanished around him, as if he were reading his every move. That sword fight wasn’t a simple defense; it was a language of supremacy with a terrifying force where every dodged blow, every cut made, seed predestined.
But the most incredible thing about the whole situation was that final blow. At first, I thought it had been a slow, almost elegant movent, as if his sword had stopped in midair before slicing into the Eldrath’s body. But no, in the blink of an eye, I saw his enemy disintegrate, his body dissolve into the wind, as if he had never existed. Not even the demon could comprehend what had happened in that second. It all vanished with a sigh.
For a mont, I was lost rembering those scenes, but now, well, here he was, in front of , Erwing. Lying in that hospital bed, his face calm, after killing the demon, he fainted. I had to carry him back to the other first-year students.
Erwing had nervous. I couldn’t stop wondering what was going through his mind at that mont. Was he thinking about his victory, or perhaps, like , questioning the price of it all? I couldn’t help feeling guilty, not because of his victory, but because I could have helped him and decided to stay out of it. I had done everything to prevent events from taking a different turn, and yet, I had put him in danger. Is it worth risking my friend? I thought, yet I couldn’t help it.
The question tornted . As I left the recovery room, walking down the hallway, that familiar feeling had already beco part of my routine; my heartbeat seed heavier. In my room, I sank onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. Even though I knew that, according to the novel, nothing would happen to him, anguish enveloped . The fragility of life, the inevitability of death, felt more real than ever. I felt depressed for a mont, but then, as always, I put back on that unwavering mask, that expressionless expression I’d had since coming into this world.
***
『Erwing’s Perspective』
When I open my eyes, a clean white ceiling welcos , as if it had been recently decorated. The soft, artificial light emits a glow that seeps into every pore of my body. My pupils slowly adjust, the feeling of disorientation washing over like a thick fog. The air slls of antiseptic and sothing else, sothing I can’t quite place, like fresh grass mixed with the subtle scent of aged wood.
Beside , by the headboard of the bed, is a small dark wooden shelf. On it, an antique pocket watch with Romanized nurals marks the ti. It seems past eight, but I’m not sure. I’ve been unconscious for hours, maybe days. I don’t know how I got here or why. My mories are broken fragnts, fragnts of a dream that is already fading with the light of day.
Beside , next to the headboard of the bed, is a small dark wooden shelf. On it, an antique pocket watch with Roman nurals marks the ti. It seems past eight, but I’m not sure. I’ve been unconscious for hours; I don’t know how I got here or why. My mories are broken fragnts, fragnts of a dream that is already fading with the light of day.
I look at my body; every part seems intact. The wounds the demon left, those deep marks and broken ribs, have disappeared. There is no trace of the cuts or the bruises that once tornted . Could this be... holy magic? I rember the pain, the anguish... the feeling that my life was fading away, but now... now everything is fine.
My hands tremble as I try to comprehend. What happened? How did I get here? How am I alive?
The last thing I rember is... the figure. A shadowy being running at great speed toward , so fast I couldn’t asure it with my eyes. The sound of its screams was distorted, as if it were drowning in the deep waters of a distant ocean, its words floating, unreachable. Its eyes glowed with an unnatural light, red as fire, but as empty as the deepest darkness. "Run!" it had shouted at , its voice echoing like thunder in my mind, but it was too late. The impact, the pressure... the fall. Then, nothingness.
I strain to rember more, but the image fades like sand through my fingers. The only thing clear is that this figure, this presence... could have been the one who brought here. I’m grateful, but... why am I still alive?
It wasn’t supposed to be this way. The power I accessed, the price I paid... everything indicated that my existence would vanish, just like that demon I had to kill. But sohow, I’m here. Alive. Fear and confusion intertwine within , as a complex feeling dawns on .
"Thank you, thank you, God..."
The silence surrounding feels heavy, dense, as if the entire space were suspended in an eternal instant. The warmth of the room caresses my skin, a softness that almost feels foreign, as if it had never stopped being cold. And yet, it’s real. Everything is real. I’m alive. The emotion of this mont, of this simple fact, hits full force, like a wave that sweeps away everything in its path. A mixture of relief and bewildernt envelops , making my chest tighten and my eyes water involuntarily.
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