A Test of Strength and Will
The Fallen King's blade hummed with dark energy, its very presence distorting the air around it. Kaelen had faced countless warriors, but none who existed beyond life itself, bound by an ancient force that refused to let go.
Yet, this was the battle he had come for.
Kaelen's breathing steadied as he lowered his stance, his sword held in both hands, gleaming with the raw energy of the Black Sun. Lirien remained at his flank, ready to strike, while the High Magus completed his incantation in the background, weaving a spell of unknown power.
The Fallen King's silver-flame eyes bore into Kaelen.
"Your will is strong, but strength alone does not shatter fate."
Then, he moved.
In an instant, the greatsword swung downward, splitting the very air apart. Kaelen dodged to the side, feeling the rush of power as the attack tore through the floor, leaving a massive rift in the stone. The palace trembled, as if the very foundations rejected their battle.
Kaelen struck back. His blade clashed against the Fallen King's, sending a shockwave through the hall. The impact was like thunder, the force behind it enough to send Kaelen skidding backward.
But he didn't falter.
Not now.
He lunged again, forcing the ancient ruler into a brutal exchange of strikes—each one heavier, faster, more desperate than the last. Sparks of black and crimson energy filled the air as their swords met again and again, neither side yielding.
Lirien saw her chance and struck from behind, her daggers flashing toward the king's exposed back.
But just before her blades could connect, the Fallen King vanished in a swirl of shadows, reappearing behind her.
Lirien gasped.
The greatsword descended toward her—
CLANG!
Kaelen blocked it at the last moment, his arms shaking under the force of the strike. He gritted his teeth, pushing back with all his might, and finally forced the Fallen King away.
Lirien exhaled sharply. "He's faster than I thought."
Kaelen nodded. "And stronger. We need to change the way we fight."
The Fallen King watched them, his gaze unreadable.
"Good."
Then, he raised his free hand.
And the palace answered his call.
---
The Army of the Forgotten
The ground beneath them shuddered as cracks split the stone apart. From the depths below, an unholy mist began to rise.
And with it came figures.
Spectral warriors, clad in the armor of the Black Sun Empire, emerged from the darkness. Their forms flickered, half-real, half-shadow, but their weapons were solid as steel.
Kaelen's heart pounded as dozens of them appeared, their hollow eyes fixed on him and his companions.
The Fallen King raised his blade.
"Face the ones who came before you. Face those who fell in pursuit of the throne you seek."
Then, the army charged.
Kaelen barely had time to react before the first warrior reached him, swinging an ethereal blade at his throat. He ducked, countering with a quick upward slash, his sword slicing through the phantom soldier—only for the figure to reform instantly.
Damn it.
These weren't normal enemies. They were bound by the same force that held the Fallen King in place.
Lirien twisted between them, daggers flashing as she dispersed two warriors, only to be met with three more. The High Magus, still chanting his spell, now had several spectral figures converging on him.
Kaelen growled, slamming his blade into the ground. A wave of black fire erupted outward, scorching the phantoms, pushing them back for a brief moment.
But it wasn't enough.
They kept coming.
We need to end this at the source.
Kaelen turned to the Fallen King, who still stood by his throne, watching the battle unfold with cold amusement.
The ancient ruler lifted his sword again.
Kaelen met his gaze.
It was time to break the chains that held this place together.
---
The Sun's Final Light
Kaelen surged forward, weaving through the spectral warriors, ignoring the ones that tried to slow him down. He saw the Fallen King raising his blade once more, a final attack prepared to end everything.
But this time, Kaelen was faster.
With a roar, he leapt into the air, his sword pulsing with the Black Sun's energy. He brought it down with all his might—
CRACK!
The impact shattered the throne beneath the Fallen King, sending shockwaves rippling through the palace. The spectral army froze as cracks of golden light formed across the floor, creeping up the Fallen King's armor.
For the first time, the ancient ruler's expression changed.
Not anger. Not pain.
But… relief.
His silver-flame eyes dimmed as he staggered, his sword slipping from his grasp.
Kaelen landed before him, breathing heavily, sword still humming with power.
The Fallen King slowly looked down at his hands—fading into dust.
He exhaled, and for the first time, his voice was not a challenge, but a whisper.
"Well done… warrior."
With that, his form crumbled into golden embers, dissolving into the air
The Throne of Shadows
The Aftermath of Battle
The Fallen King was gone.
His spectral army had vanished alongside him, their forms dissolving into the air like morning mist. The great hall was silent now, save for the distant rumbling of the collapsing palace. The ancient stones, no longer held together by the king's lingering power, began to crack and fall, sending plumes of dust into the air.
Kaelen stood in the center, his sword still pulsing with energy, his breath ragged. Lirien, bruised and bloodied, approached him, wiping a streak of dirt from her face.
"He's… truly gone," she murmured, eyes flicking toward the empty space where the king once stood.
Kaelen nodded. But the weight of victory felt heavier than he expected.
The Fallen King had not screamed. He had not fought against his end.
He had accepted it.
The realization sat uneasily in Kaelen's chest. Had he truly won? Or had he merely freed a prisoner who longed for release?
Behind them, the High Magus collapsed to one knee, his spellcasting finally complete. The old mage looked exhausted, his robes torn, his breathing shallow. But as he lifted his head, his eyes gleamed with something Kaelen had never seen before.
Reverence.
The Throne Calls
The ground beneath them trembled, but this was not the same destruction that had taken the palace.
It was something older. Deeper.
Kaelen turned, his gaze locking onto the ruined throne. Or what remained of it.
The once-magnificent seat of the Black Sun Empire had been reduced to jagged fragments, the obsidian surface split apart by the force of their battle. Yet, something glowed within the wreckage—a deep, golden light, pulsating like a heartbeat.
Kaelen took a step forward.
Lirien grabbed his arm. "Wait—something's wrong."
But it was too late.
The moment Kaelen stepped closer, the palace responded.
The walls shifted unnaturally, as though the very structure of the empire had been waiting for this moment. The cracks in the throne widened, and from the darkness within, something rose.
A new throne.
It formed from the void, the shadows coalescing into shape, reforging what had been destroyed. The new throne was darker than night itself, an abyss carved into a seat of power. Its surface shimmered with golden inscriptions, ancient symbols written in a language even the High Magus could not decipher.
And in the air above it, a single black sun burned.
A sun that should not exist.
Kaelen swallowed hard. This wasn't just a throne.
It was a choice.
The Price of Power
The High Magus stepped forward, voice hoarse. "The Throne of Shadows… The true seat of the Black Sun Empire."
Kaelen clenched his fists. He had come all this way, fought through the ruins of an empire, defeated an ancient king who had ruled beyond death itself—
And yet, as he stood before the throne, something deep inside him screamed in warning.
Lirien's voice was barely above a whisper. "Kaelen… don't."
But he had to.
Slowly, he ascended the steps toward the throne. With each step, the air grew heavier, the power in the room shifting toward him, acknowledging him. The golden inscriptions flared, responding to his presence. The black sun burned brighter.
And then—
He sat.
The moment his body touched the throne, a surge of energy flooded through him. It was not pain, not pleasure—but knowledge.
Memories not his own poured into his mind. Visions of battles fought long before his birth. Empires rising and crumbling under the weight of time. The endless cycle of war, conquest, and ruin.
And at the heart of it all—
The power of the Black Sun.
A New Dawn or Endless Night?
Kaelen's eyes snapped open. He could feel it now, flowing through his veins, intertwining with his soul. The same force that had bound the Fallen King, the same force that had refused to let the empire die—
It was now his.
Lirien and the High Magus stood below him, watching in silence.
"Kaelen," Lirien said, her voice unreadable. "What… have you done?"
He exhaled slowly, feeling the weight of his decision settle upon him.
And above them, the Black Sun blazed anew.
---
End of Chapter 18.