The atmosphere in the Dwarf Kingdom's royal infirmary was thick with the scent of medicinal herbs and the low, rhythmic hum of Tier 4 healing arrays. Alaric Chenwongo stood by the window, his eyes fixed on the horizon where the blue planet had once hung. His heart was a stormy sea of white-hot rage and chilling realization. The Shadow Ledger was not a mere insurrection; it was a cosmic game played by a master whose face was hidden in the deepest abyss.
"He is still fighting, Alaric."
Alaric turned to see King Borin Stone Head. The Dwarf King was a shadow of his former self, wrapped in enchanted bandages, his missing arm replaced by a temporary spirit-shaping sleeve. Yet, his gaze was steady. He looked at Jai, who lay on the central bed, surrounded by flickering soul-lamps.
"I have watched many warriors in my time," Borin said, his voice deep and gravelly. "But these two—Jai and James—they are special. You trained them well, Alaric. To face the resurrected ghost of my father and the treason of Zeron at such a young age... they did an amazing job. They didn't just fight; they saved my kingdom. Your training has made them worthy of the legends."
The praise hit Alaric like a physical blow. A single, hot tear escaped his eye before he could suppress it. He, a Sovereign-tier master, was weeping. The overwhelming rage he felt for the "Man in White" was now competing with the suffocating guilt of a guardian who had let his charges fall.
At that moment, the door creaked open. James, Zayn, Brokk, and Winston entered. They moved with the stiff, painful gait of the recently healed. James, his face pale and eyes rimmed with red, walked straight to Alaric and bowed his head low.
"Uncle... I'm sorry," James whispered, his voice cracking. "I failed. I couldn't protect Jai."
Alaric reached out, his large hand trembling slightly as he patted James's head. "Don't say that, James. It is I who should apologize. I sent you into a den of wolves and expected you to be lions before your manes had even grown. You are young, and the world is far more cruel than I showed you. Rest now. This burden is mine."
Inside the silent cavern of his mind, Jai was not in an infirmary. He was standing in a world of endless, swirling grey fog. The ground beneath his feet felt like cold marble, and the sky was a featureless void.
"Uncle Alaric? James?" Jai called out, his voice swallowed by the mist.
He wandered for what felt like hours until he saw a figure in the distance. The man wore a heavy black robe that seemed to drink the light. His hair was as white as bone, and his skin had a translucent, porcelain quality. Most strikingly, he wore a featureless white mask that covered his entire face.
Jai caught up to him, his boots clicking on the marble. "Hello! Hello, Mister! I'm calling you!"
The man continued to walk with a slow, rhythmic pace. Jai, frustrated, ran ahead and tapped the man's shoulder. The figure stopped and tilted his head back, the blank mask staring directly into Jai's soul.
"Hey, Mister," Jai panted. "I was screaming back there. Do you have a hearing problem or something?"
The man's voice was like the rustling of dry parchment. "My apologies, little one. I have a very serious hearing problem. I could not hear your screams... for they belong to the world of the living, and I have drifted far from there."
Jai frowned, his confusion deepening. "Sorry, I'm just pissed and tired. Do you know where everyone went? I can't find my friends."
"I am searching for them too," the masked man replied softly. "But in this place, we only find what we are afraid to look at."
Jai pointed at the mask. "Why do you wear that thing on your face? It's creepy."
"Oh, this?" The man let out a soft, hollow chuckle. "It is a habit. A shield for the world... and for myself."
Suddenly, the man's hand shot out with the speed of a viper, catching Jai's wrist. His grip was cold—colder than the ice of the blue planet. With his other hand, he slowly lifted the mask.
Jai's heart stopped. Behind the mask was the face of Zeron, but it was a nightmare. One half of his face was a grinning, handsome Dwarf; the other half was a bleached, eyeless skeleton. His hand, still gripping Jai, began to ooze dark, viscous blood.
"Do you really think," the skeletal mouth hissed, "that I am going to die that easily, little Prince?"
In the infirmary, Jai's body suddenly arched. He began to seize violently, his heels drumming against the bed.
"HEALER!" Alaric roared.
The Human Medical Chief rushed in, casting a Spirit-Stabilization Array. He watched as Jai's skin began to glow with a faint, flickering gold—the Golden Scourge, the ancestral power of the Dominatrix lineage, was reacting to the mental threat.
"He is fighting," the Chief said, sweat beading on his forehead. "Jai is trapped in a Soul-Hallucination. He is being hunted by an image of his own fear. If he cannot escape the dream, his mind will burn out."
Alaric drew his divine sword, the blade humming with blue lightning. "Where is the enemy? Tell me where to strike! I will cut down the bastard haunting him!"
The Chief shook his head sadly. "Alaric, put the sword away. There is no physical enemy here. This is Jai's own mind playing tricks on him. He is living in an imaginary world where his trauma has taken form. We cannot enter. Only someone capable of handling the Golden Scourge—the raw, chaotic power of Emperor Dominatrix—could dive into his mind and pull him back."
Alaric's shoulders slumped. He knew the history. The Golden Scourge was a power so volatile it could melt the soul of anyone not born of the Chenwongo core bloodline.
"There is no one, Chief," Alaric whispered. "Beatrice is too strong; her entry would shatter his mind. And I... I don't possess the Scourge. We have to wait. We have to wait for a boy to kill a ghost."
While the gods and kings of Aetheleon fought for their souls, the world of Earth turned with a different kind of coldness.
Valerie, Ken, and Rhea had finally reached their home from Hong Kong mountains. The air was fresh, and the mansion was silent, but the peace was an illusion.
In his private estate, Rayn sat in his high-backed leather chair. He was the "Cold King" of the business world, a man feared for his brutality. But as he sat in the dark, tears were silently tracking down his face. Through a hidden Bluetooth device, he had heard everything—Valerie's fear, Ken's hesitation, and the way they spoke of him as a monster.
What is this life? Rayn thought. My birth mother threw me away. My adopted mother raised me out of fear. My father left me with strangers. Nobody wants me. I think this world doesn't deserve me.
He had spent twenty years waiting for a sign of love, but all he received was the cold silence of the elite. He stood up, his eyes hardening into flint. He wouldn't wait for his grandmother's world anymore. He would build his own, or he would burn everything down.
He walked out to his Black Lamborghini, the engine roaring to life like a caged beast. He drove to Valerie's mansion one last time.
When he walked through the door, Valerie and Ken recoiled in terror.
"Don't be scared," Rayn said, his voice devoid of its usual sharp edge. It was just... empty. "I didn't come here to kill you. I came to tell you that I am leaving. I will never step foot in this house again."
He walked toward Valerie. She stood frozen as he approached.
"Mom," Rayn said, the word sounding foreign on his tongue. "Do you really think I'm a monster just because of whose blood I carry? I loved you as my own mother. Do you know what my real goal was? I wanted to take you and Ken to a place where there were no people, no business, no fear. Just us. But you shattered that dream today."
He pulled a stack of legal documents from his jacket. "I am sharing 40% of my empire with you and Ken and i hold 60% of the shares for me. Consider it payment for the years you spent 'fearing' me. I have already filed the papers to strike your name from my birth certificate. You are no longer my mother, and I am no longer your son."
He turned to Ken. "You were always my brother. You were the only one who supported me, but even you look at me like I'm a disease now. Take care of Mom."
Finally, he looked at Rhea. "Congratulations on your marriage. Take care of my brother. If you hurt him, I won't come back to sue you—I'll come back to end you. Don't test me."
Rayn paused at the door, looking back at the Chef standing in the hallway. "Goodbye, Chef. I really liked your food. It was the only thing in this house that didn't taste like lies."
With a final, sharp gesture of his hand, Rayn walked out. The roar of the Lamborghini echoed through the city as he sped away into the black and snow falling night, Rayn is like a king with no kingdom, a son with no name.