▬ Ryn POV ▬
White.
That was all I could see.
Not light.
Not darkness.
Just white.
My body wouldn't respond. My thoughts were scattered. Every pulse of my heart felt wrong — too heavy, too violent. Like my blood no longer belonged to me.
It hurt to breathe.
It hurt to exist.
I tried to move my fingers.
Nothing.
So this is how it ends.
Not by a blade.
Not by an enemy.
But by my own inheritance tearing me apart.
The throne was still occupied.
The troll king was still alive.
And I was lying here like a broken weapon.
A presence brushed against my consciousness.
Not mana.
Not soul.
Something older.
Colder.
A voice echoed inside me — calm, distant.
> "I can help you escape this situation… but…"
The pain dulled slightly.
Like something was waiting for my answer.
Not forcing.
Not demanding.
Offering.
The white space around me felt thinner.
Like a door had opened somewhere I couldn't see.
My heart beat once.
Twice.
The throne was still occupied.
And I was still breathing.
The voice did not repeat itself.
It simply waited.
—
▬ Eron POV ▬
"He's dead."
That's what I thought when I saw him lying there.
Shadow Slave hadn't moved in nearly a minute. Blood at his lips. Body twitching faintly.
Even the trolls had stopped paying attention to him.
Then his fingers moved.
Small.
Barely noticeable.
But I saw it.
He pushed against the floor.
Failed.
Tried again.
Slowly — painfully — he forced himself upright.
Not fully standing.
Just enough to sit.
His body trembled.
Violently.
Like something inside him was unstable.
The troll king laughed from his throne.
Shadow slavedidn't look at him.
He looked down at his own hands.
Then he raised them.
Perpendicular.
Steadying them with effort.
They were shaking — but he held the position.
The air shifted.
Not wind.
Not mana.
Something else.
Something that made even my instincts tighten.
He stood.
Barely.
His legs trembled like they would snap.
But he was standing.
The laughter from the throne weakened.
Shadow slave lifted his head.
His face wasn't desperate.
It wasn't furious.
It was calm.
That calm was wrong.
"Devil Blood Technique."
His voice wasn't loud.
But it carried.
The arena quieted.
"Blood Distortion."
For a heartbeat, nothing happened.
Then the troll king's body stiffened.
I saw veins bulge across his skin — dark lines spreading under flesh.
His mouth opened.
No sound came out.
Blood streamed from his eyes first.
Then nose.
Then ears.
He collapsed from the throne without a scream.
Dead.
Silence swallowed the arena.
And shadow slave—
He dropped to one knee.
Still trembling.
Still breathing.
But the throne was empty.
And whatever had been offered to him…
He was still here.