The weight of the prophecy still lingered in the air.
Kaizetsu sat in silence, his mind replaying the words over and over again.
"And when the forgotten heir stands before the Crown… the world will tremble once more."
Kazuki lounged nearby, arms crossed, sharp eyes scanning the shelves but not really reading anything.
"You're awfully quiet," Kazuki muttered.
Kaizetsu didn't respond. His gaze was fixed on an etching carved into the wood beneath the shelf—ancient lettering that matched the style in the book they'd found.
Kazuki raised an eyebrow. "...So that's a yes."
Kaizetsu knelt and traced the faint lines. "My grandfather used to talk about symbols like this. Said they were warnings. Or instructions. Depending on who was reading."
Kazuki tilted his head. "You think there's more than just books hidden here?"
Kaizetsu didn't say a word. His gaze locked on one of the ancient symbols etched into the shelf's frame. With a slow breath, he pressed it.
Click.
A deep, mechanical groan rumbled from behind the shelf.
Kazuki straightened, eyes narrowing. "No way—"
The bookshelf quivered like it had a pulse, ancient gears grinding to life. Dust exploded from the edges as the entire structure rumbled and began to shift, revealing a hidden staircase swallowed in shadow.
Kazuki took a slow step back. "Because of course there's a secret passage. Why wouldn't there be? We're just casually unlocking dungeons now."
Kaizetsu was already descending, his expression unreadable.
Kazuki muttered, "Y'know, normal people just read books in libraries. But nooo, you gotta go full cursed prophecy meets secret lair."
He followed, one hand on the wall, the other near his knife. "If we run into a giant spider down here, I'm blaming you."
---
The moment Kaizetsu stepped into the hidden chamber, the air changed.
The silence was thick—older than dust, older than time itself. Faint torchlight flickered against the stone walls, revealing what had been hidden for centuries.
A mural stretched across the entire wall—massive, cracked with age but still horrifyingly vivid.
Kazuki let out a low whistle. "Well, that's not ominous at all."
The mural was divided into three sections—like a prophecy unfolding in frozen motion.
The first scene showed a towering, majestic city—spires that kissed the clouds, people kneeling before a crowned figure. The King. His crown glowed with unnatural light, and behind him stood a symbol that mirrored the same one in Kaizetsu's dreams.
The second scene bled into chaos—the city in flames, shadows pouring in, devouring everything. A robed group stood in the background—faces hidden, hands raised. The Secret Hand. In their midst, the same crown lay shattered, yet glowing—its power refusing to die.
And finally—the third scene.
One lone figure stood before the ruins of the city, his silhouette eerily similar to Kaizetsu's. The Crown hovered above him, untouched, as shadows bent around him—afraid. The ground cracked at his feet. The skies split.
Carved beneath it all were ancient, barely legible words:
"When the Forgotten Heir stands before the Crown… the world shall tremble once more."
Kaizetsu stared in silence. His heart hammered against his ribs.
Kazuki looked between the mural and him.
"Sooo… remind me to never stand next to you when you're near anything ancient again."
Kaizetsu didn't laugh. Couldn't. He took a step back.
The figure in the mural stared back—unmoving, unknowable—but it felt like a mirror.
Kazuki leaned in, brow furrowing. "So… it's real. The prophecy."
Kaizetsu's hands curled into fists. "They knew. My grandfather knew."
Kazuki narrowed his eyes. "And if your family knew… The Secret Hand definitely does too."
A beat passed.
Then Kaizetsu stepped away from the mural and picked up a small, worn note half-buried beneath the dust. It was written in the same handwriting as the letter his grandfather had once shown him.
Kazuki peeked over his shoulder. "What's it say?"
Kaizetsu read silently for a moment, then muttered:
"Find the city. Before they do."
Kazuki's jaw clenched. "We're already late, aren't we?"
A sudden shift in the air—cold, heavy, unnatural.
A single black feather drifted down the stairwell, spinning lazily before landing at Kaizetsu's feet.
Then came the sound. Not wings. Whispers. Low, like breath through cracked stone—too many voices speaking in unison.
Kaizetsu and Kazuki turned slowly toward the stairs.
Etched into the stone wall behind them was a fresh symbol, glowing faintly with crimson light.
Kaizetsu's blood ran cold.
Kazuki didn't blink. "Yeah… they definitely know we're here."
Kaizetsu grabbed the note and turned to the mural once more. The location of the lost city wasn't spelled out, but pieces of the puzzle were there—coordinates, landmarks, riddles woven into the image.
"We don't have time," Kaizetsu said. "They're already moving."
__
"Rising from the chamber's shadows, neither spoke—the weight of ancient truths settling in their bones."
Kaizetsu's fingers still gripped the aged book tightly, as if letting go would somehow erase what he had just learned. The prophecy wasn't just old ink and forgotten myths. It was real. It was him.
Kazuki broke the silence first. "So… secret passage, forgotten city, cursed prophecy. What's next? Hidden temple? Flaming swords?"
Kaizetsu didn't answer, but a faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. Just for a second.
The weight returned almost instantly.
The silence that followed wasn't awkward—it was filled with anticipation. With the undeniable truth that they were walking into something much larger than themselves.
As they stepped back into the night, the city around them was unchanged. Quiet. Peaceful.
But both of them knew better now.
Kazuki looked up at the stars. "If that prophecy's true… everything's about to change."
Kaizetsu glanced over at him, the book still tucked beneath his arm. "Change already started the moment we found this book."
__
Miles away, Far beyond any marked land, where even the stars seemed to forget their path, the wind howled through the broken bones of a forgotten city.
Deep underground, torches roared to life—unlit for centuries, now burning with an unnatural flame.
Figures in black robes moved like shadows, encircling a vast chamber carved from obsidian and fire.
At its heart stood a fractured pedestal, and resting upon it… a crown twisted by time, pulsing with dormant power.
A figure stepped forward and lowered his hood.
His expression was unreadable, but his voice echoed with authority.
"It was always meant to be me… I am the one the prophecy spoke of. The world will kneel before its true king."
Whispers broke out among the cloaked figures—but none stepped forward.
The man raised a hand, silencing them.
"We don't need the Crown… not yet." His gaze dropped to the glowing runes beneath their feet, pulsing like a heartbeat.
"The energy is still too volatile. But once the source stabilizes—once it bends to us—" he smiled faintly, "—the world will remember its true king."
He stepped toward the cracked pedestal, his voice lowering.
"The prophecy is unfolding. And when the time comes… I'll wear the Crown they said no man could claim."
But then, almost as if reality itself pushed back against his claim, the runes at their feet surged with violent energy—wild, untamed.
He narrowed his eyes.
"…For now, we take what we can."
One of the figures hesitated. "But the energy—what if it rejects us, like it did before?"
The man's gaze sharpened. "It won't. The Crown rejects all who are unworthy… but this power—it was never meant to choose. It only needs to be unleashed."
A low rumble trembled through the chamber. Dust fell from the ceiling.
Somewhere in the stone below, something ancient stirred—energy, not alive, but aware. It pulsed once… and the ritual circle responded.
Flames turned blue.
The stone
groaned.
And in the deep silence that followed, a single truth settled over them:
They had found the lost city.
And soon… they would awaken what was buried beneath it.
---