The Next Phase: A Mission Begins
Krisian stood before MG and Michael, his gaze unwavering. The three weeks of relentless training had transformed them—both in mind and body. No longer were they uncertain men caught in the weight of their pasts. Now, they were warriors molded by discipline, sharpened by purpose.
"It is time," Krisian said, his voice carrying an authority that allowed no argument. "Your training has prepared you for what comes next. Now, we take action."
He turned to Michael, his golden eyes gleaming with expectation.
"Your first mission begins now."
Michael straightened, awaiting his orders.
"You will seek out the remaining descendants of the Onyx Court," Krisian commanded. "We need them to join our cause. The shadows still carry their blood, even if time has tried to erase them. Find them. Bring them into the fold. If they refuse, make them see reason."
Michael smirked, his confidence unshaken. "And if they resist?"
Krisian's lips curled into a dark smile. "Then remind them what they were born for."
Michael nodded. "Consider it done."
Krisian then shifted his gaze to MG.
"Your role will be different. We will not search for the Celestial Court in secret. The world will know we are looking for them."
MG raised a brow. "Won't that alert those who wish to stop us?"
Krisian chuckled. "That is exactly what I want. The Celestial Court has long buried itself in the illusion of peace. If we search for them openly, they will come to us—whether to join us or to stop us. Either way, they will reveal themselves."
He stepped forward, placing a hand on both of their shoulders.
"We will not fail. The Onyx and Celestial Courts were always two halves of the same whole. We will unite them. And when the time comes…" Krisian's golden eyes burned with ambition.
"…The world will kneel."
Krisian stood before MG and Michael, his expression unreadable. Then, with a smirk, he raised his hand, and the runes on their arms pulsed with power—a reminder of the pact that bound them together.
"Due to the runes and our connection, I will be able to sense your progress," Krisian said, his voice steady yet commanding. "If needed, I will come myself."
His golden eyes locked onto Michael.
"Your first mission will take place in Konowa—a kingdom deep within the Abyss."
Michael's eyes narrowed. "The Abyss? That's dangerous territory."
Krisian chuckled. "That is why you were chosen."
He took a step closer, his voice lowering. "I do not yet know which bloodline she belongs to, but you will find her. Her name is Alpha. She is a slave of the Monarch of Konowa. You will free her and bring her to me. She will be the first member to join our cause."
Michael's smirk widened. "A slave? You think she will just follow me?"
Krisian's eyes gleamed with amusement. "No. I think once you free her, she will have nowhere else to go. And when she sees what we are building—she will not want to go anywhere else."
Michael nodded. "Consider it done."
Then Krisian turned to MG, his smirk fading into something more serious.
"While Michael is in Konowa, I will be giving this kingdom a rebirth."
MG frowned. "How?"
Krisian exhaled slowly, his golden eyes burning with something dangerous. "By using my father."
MG's breath hitched. "You mean—"
"It is time." Krisian's voice was like steel. "Vordimoth will meet Krisian. No more hiding. No more pretending to be weak."
He let out a dark chuckle, shaking his head. "MG, you were right. I am tired of lying to him. I am tired of pretending to be someone I am not. I will no longer bow my head to a man who does not deserve my respect."
Krisian clenched his fist, and power surged through the room.
"The world will no longer know Henry Voss."
His golden eyes flickered with untamed ambition.
"It will know Krisian Voss."
Mission: Konowa – The Shadow's Trial
Michael stood before Krisian, his usual confidence unwavering. "If this Alpha is as important as you say, then I expect resistance."
Krisian smirked, folding his arms. "Of course. Nothing worth having comes easy." His golden eyes flickered. "You will face opposition. The Monarch of Konowa is no fool. He does not allow his slaves to leave… alive."
Michael chuckled darkly. "Then I suppose I'll just have to break his rules."
Krisian's smirk widened. "Good. Now go. Find Alpha, and prove that you are worthy of being my Shadow."
With that, Michael departed.
________________________________________
Konowa: The Kingdom in the Abyss
Konowa was unlike anything Michael had seen before.
Dark, towering structures reached into an eternal night sky, their obsidian walls glowing faintly with eerie blue sigils. Fires burned in iron cages along the streets, casting flickering shadows over the chained figures that shuffled through the alleys—slaves, stripped of names and dignity.
Michael's jaw tightened. "So this is the Abyss…"
The city was alive with whispers—talk of the 'Crimson Monarch,' a ruler said to be ruthless beyond measure. His guards, clad in spiked black armor, patrolled the streets, their eyes sharp, their movements calculated.
Michael blended into the darkness, his steps silent as he navigated the ruined streets.
He had one objective—find Alpha.
But before he could even reach the main square, a group of Abyssal Enforcers blocked his path.
A deep, guttural voice echoed through the air. "You don't belong here, outsider."
Michael smirked. "And yet, here I am."
The tallest of the enforcers stepped forward, his armor adorned with red Abyssal markings. His eyes, glowing with unnatural power, locked onto Michael.
"No one enters Konowa without permission. You have ten seconds to state your purpose before I rip you apart."**
Michael sighed. "I hate formalities."
Then he moved.
In a blur of speed, he dashed forward, blade in hand, striking the first enforcer's exposed neck. The man gurgled as dark blood sprayed onto the cracked ground.
The others barely had time to react before Michael disappeared into the shadows—only to reappear behind them, his dagger slicing through another's throat.
Two down. Four to go.
The remaining enforcers roared in fury, unsheathing wicked Abyss-forged blades.
"Kill him!"
Michael smirked. "Finally, a warm welcome."
The battle had begun.
Meanwhile: Alpha's Cage
Deep within the Monarch's palace, a girl sat chained in a cell of obsidian.
Her silver hair, matted with dust, fell over piercing crimson eyes that burned with restrained fury.
She was no ordinary slave.
She was waiting.
Because she knew—one day, someone would come for her.
And when they did…
Konowa would burn.
________________________________________
Will Michael survive the enforcers and reach Alpha? Or will Konowa claim another soul?
The Prince of Konowa: A Battle Against Fate
Michael stood amidst the bloodied bodies of the Konowan guards, his blade dripping with their lives. The cold air of the Abyss carried the scent of death, but he felt no satisfaction—only the weight of his mission.
Then, a slow, deliberate clap echoed through the streets.
Michael turned, and there he stood.
A towering man clad in midnight-black armor, his crimson cape billowing slightly in the Abyssal winds. His eyes, golden like molten fire, held neither anger nor amusement—only calm, absolute confidence.
"You fought well," the man said, stepping forward. His voice was smooth, yet there was something dangerous beneath it. "You killed my men without hesitation. That alone deserves respect."
Michael's grip on his dagger tightened as he studied the knight's stance. This one was different.
The man stopped a few feet away, his gaze unwavering. "My name is Zak Ruther, prince of Konowa and the strongest knight after my father. And you, outsider, have made a grave mistake."
Michael exhaled slowly, his mind racing. This won't be like the others. He could feel it—the sheer pressure radiating from Zak's presence. This was no ordinary opponent.
But his mission was clear.
"Strongest after your father?" Michael smirked, rolling his shoulders. "Then I guess I'll have to see just how strong you really are."
Zak's eyes narrowed. "So be it."
And then—they clashed.
________________________________________
A Fight Against Time
Michael's dagger struck like a viper, aiming for the gaps in Zak's armor. But the prince moved like a storm—faster than any knight should be.
Each strike that should have landed was deflected with ease.
Michael's speed was his greatest weapon, but Zak was reading his movements too easily.
He's faster than me… Michael realized as Zak's sword barely missed his throat. Stronger than me…
Zak's movements were precise, controlled. He was toying with him.
Michael leaped back, breathing heavily. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"
Zak tilted his head, his expression unreadable. "No. I am simply testing the limits of your skill."
And then—Zak changed.
His body began to shift, his aura twisting into something darker, heavier.
Michael's eyes widened as Zak's voice took on a guttural tone, his words slipping into a language not meant for human ears.
The language of demons.
A black sigil ignited across Zak's skin, his eyes turning from gold to an abyssal black with burning crimson pupils.
"You are pushing my hand," Zak said, his voice now layered with something inhuman.
"But the consequences… you will not be the one to face them."
Michael's heart pounded. This is bad.
And then—he remembered Krisian's warning.
"If you ever hear the demon's tongue, do not fight. Stop. Contact me."
Michael had no time to question.
He reached for his rune and activated the connection.
A pulse of energy shot through his body, his vision blurring for a moment as Krisian's voice echoed into his mind.
________________________________________
The Shadow Calls His King
Krisian felt it immediately.
A sharp disturbance—like a thread of fate being cut too soon.
His golden eyes flickered as he turned away from MG, a slow smirk forming on his lips.
"Michael, you already need help?"
Michael gritted his teeth. "This bastard is stronger than anyone I've faced. If I keep fighting, I'll die before I even reach Alpha."
Krisian chuckled, but his amusement was short-lived. He could feel the presence through the rune—the demonic energy surging within Zak.
A cursed knight.
Krisian's voice darkened. "Listen carefully. You cannot win this fight. Surrender for now. You'll get your chance to fight back after you talk to Alpha."
Michael hesitated, his pride resisting the command.
But Krisian's voice cut through his thoughts like a blade.
"Do not let your pride cost us this mission. Yield, Shadow. For now."
Michael clenched his fists—but he understood.
He exhaled sharply, dropping his dagger. "Fine."
Zak stopped his approach, his corrupted eyes narrowing. "Surrendering?"
Michael forced a smirk. "For now. But next time?" His crimson eyes gleamed. "I'll make sure you're the one kneeling."
Zak studied him for a long moment before finally lowering his weapon.
"You amuse me, outsider." His voice still held traces of demonic influence, but the glow in his eyes dimmed slightly. "We shall see if your words hold weight."
And with that, Michael allowed himself to be captured.
Because his true battle had yet to begin
Michael's wrists burned as the enchanted shackles tightened around them, suppressing his strength. The Abyssal Enforcers shoved him forward, their gauntlets biting into his skin. He didn't resist—not yet.
Patience, Shadow. Krisian's voice echoed in his mind.
Zak Ruther walked beside him, sword sheathed, his face unreadable. The demonic energy that had briefly overtaken him had settled, but the presence of it still lingered beneath his skin, like a predator waiting to pounce.
"You amuse me, outsider," Zak muttered as they entered the Monarch's fortress. "Most men would rather die than kneel. Yet you surrendered."
Michael smirked despite the pain. "I'm not most men."
Zak glanced at him with mild interest. "Perhaps not. But you made a mistake. You think captivity means survival, but here, prisoners do not last long."
Michael said nothing. He studied the halls instead—tall, looming pillars carved from black stone, flickering torches casting elongated shadows against the walls.
And then, the stench hit him.
Blood. Decay. Despair.
The further they walked, the louder the sounds of suffering became.
Konowa's slaves.
Michael swallowed his rage, keeping his expression neutral, but Zak noticed. The prince smirked. "Does their suffering disturb you?"
Michael forced a chuckle. "Not at all. Just thinking how easy it'll be to put your kingdom to the sword."
Zak's smirk didn't falter. "Good. I was worried you had a conscience."
The doors before them groaned open, revealing a massive chamber—at its center, a single iron cage.
Inside, she sat.
Alpha.
Her silver hair, streaked with dirt and dried blood, clung to her face. Her crimson eyes—intelligent, calculating—snapped up the moment Michael entered.
She did not look broken.
She looked hungry.
For freedom. For vengeance. For something more.
Zak strode forward, his boots echoing through the chamber. "Alpha. Meet our latest guest. He thought he could kill his way through Konowa and walk away untouched."
Alpha tilted her head, studying Michael. Then, to Zak, she said, "You should have killed him."
Michael grinned. "And miss out on this charming conversation?"
Alpha scoffed but didn't look away.
Zak crossed his arms. "He came here looking for you."
That made her pause.
Michael, despite his bindings, took a step closer. "I came to free you."
A long silence stretched between them.
Then—she laughed.
It was not soft. Not broken.
It was cold. Cynical. Dangerous.
"Then you're a fool," Alpha said. "Because no one leaves Konowa alive."
Zak smirked, turning to his men. "Prepare the pit. He'll fight for his life soon enough."
The guards saluted, dragging Michael away.
As he was pulled from the chamber, Alpha watched him carefully.
And for the first time in years—she felt hope.
The grand halls of the imperial palace shimmered with opulence. Golden chandeliers bathed the banquet hall in a warm, flickering glow, while noblemen and high-ranking officials whispered behind jeweled goblets of wine. The air buzzed with tension, anticipation, and the weight of hidden agendas.
Tonight was not just a banquet.
It was a stage.
And Krisian Voss was about to make his debut.
As Krisian strode into the ceremonial hall, all eyes turned to him.
But he ignored them.
He didn't acknowledge the gasps, the murmurs—the disbelief painted on the faces of those who once mocked him. He didn't even glance at his brothers—men who shared his father's blood but not his suffering.
Once, he would have lowered his gaze before them.
Not tonight.