The sky was a bruise of purple and gray, choked with ash and cloud. Wind howled through the Field of Broken Stars—an ancient battlefield haunted by forgotten wars, now chosen for another legend to be born.
Queen Lydia arrived like a goddess of war.
Her throne of crimson marble was borne on the shoulders of four massive men—war-forged titans in golden armor. The queen sat tall, draped in a robe of royal silver, her crown carved from the bones of a fallen dragon. Around her, an ocean of steel glinted in the fading sun—900 soldiers, banners raised, blades drawn, hearts thundering with glory and dread.
But the dread grew heavier when they saw the trio across the field.
Lucian stood at the center, bare-chested, tattoos glowing, eyes flickering with that unholy flame. To his right was Selene, clad in black battle-wrappings bound with cursed threads, her right arm armored with a gauntlet of cruel, needle-like blades extending like claws. Her eyes—once regal—were now pits of crimson hunger. And to his left, Rhea, barefoot, lips stitched with blood, her hands resting calmly at her sides—until one looked closer and saw her nails were no longer nails but obsidian talons, curling like dragon's fangs.
Lydia’s breath caught in her throat.
“Selene...” she whispered, standing from her throne.
Lucian watched.
“My daughter,” Lydia called, her voice cracking. “Please... come back. I know he’s done something to you. We have the best healers—whatever he’s twisted inside you, we can fix it.”
Selene blinked slowly.
Then, in full view of her mother, she turned to Lucian and kissed him.
It wasn’t gentle. It was possession. It was defiance. It was a declaration.
Lydia’s hands clenched into fists.
“You... monster,” she hissed. “You’ve destroyed everything I ever loved.”
Lucian smiled, head tilting. “You’re wrong. I didn’t destroy her... I gave her freedom.”
One of the soldiers near Lydia began to tremble. Another lowered his spear slightly. Then another took a half-step back.
They were staring at Selene’s blood-soaked armor, the inhuman gaze in Rhea’s golden eyes. The dark pulse of magic rippling off Lucian like heat from a dying star.
“Hold!” Lydia barked. “Do not falter! He is the monster! He turned my daughter into that. He turned your brothers to ash! This ends today!”
Lucian’s eyes narrowed.
Then he began to laugh.
Low at first—soft, amused. But it grew louder, deeper. A laugh that carried across the entire battlefield like a plague wind.
“What’s so funny?” Lydia demanded, rising to her feet again. “You think you’ll get away with this? I have a whole army, Lucian. You’re just three.”
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Lucian stepped forward, raising one hand to the earth.
The System chimed in—only for him.
> [SYSTEM NOTICE]
Activate Summoning Skill: “Covenant of the Shadow Maw”
Cost: 30,000 Terror Points
Confirmed. Summoning begins…
Lucian’s voice boomed like thunder:
“Arise... from your shadows.”
The ground beneath him cracked.
Black smoke burst from the soil. Then bones. Then claws. Then screams.
All across the battlefield, creatures erupted from the earth—dragons stitched from corpses, lich-knights with burning crowns, mages with mouths sewn shut, ghouls, undead paladins, goblins with runes carved into their flesh, purifiers missing eyes but chanting holy war, and more.
A tidal wave of nightmare.
Lucian turned his head slowly, smirking.
“You sent monsters after me every night for three days,” he said, voice cold as the grave. “What did you think I was doing while you prepared your little army?”
He gestured to the swarm behind him.
“I killed them. I devoured them. I made them mine.”
> [SYSTEM UPDATE]
New Title Progression: “God of Terror – Regional Control Achieved”
+4,000 Terror Points
New Trait: Master of the Forgotten Host
Your army will now obey even in death. Commands pass through the Shadowlink.
Lucian raised a single hand.
“Shall we begin?”
A silence fell over the Field of Broken Stars.
Lucian’s smirk widened.
“Shall we begin?”
Steel scraped against steel. One of Lydia’s front-line soldiers roared with all the strength he had:
“FOR THE QUEEN!”
The army stood poised. All eyes turned to Lydia for the final signal.
Her jaw tightened.
“Crush them.”
The signal was given. The sea of gold surged forward. Steel boots thundered against earth. Spears dropped. Swords raised.
Across the field, Lucian didn’t move.
He simply whispered, “Destroy.”
And the world erupted.
Lucian’s horde didn’t charge—they launched.
Monsters surged like a tidal wave of black flame, sprinting faster than the eye could follow. Some galloped like nightmares on six legs, others flew with wings stitched from shadows. Liches cast plagues into the ranks. Ghouls leapt into the air and crashed down on screaming soldiers. Shadowblades appeared mid-strike, having traveled through the shadows of the very men they were about to gut.
> [SYSTEM NOTICE]
Skill Activated: Shadowgate Legion – Your army can manifest from any enemy’s shadow within a 30-meter radius. Fear intensifies.
+2,500 Terror Points
The frontlines collided—and exploded in blood.
Limbs flew. Screams echoed. The monsters were not just killing—they were devouring.
From the back of Lydia’s army, a group of younger recruits watched in horror. One dropped his sword. Another took a step back. Then another.
And then—they began to retreat.
But it was already too late.
As they turned, their own shadows twisted. A skeletal hand emerged from beneath their feet. Then another. Then ten.
“No—NO—”
Shadow demons tore from their silhouettes like reflections gone rabid, dragging them down screaming.
Behind the chaos, Lucian stood calm.
Selene was crouched beside him, eyes wide with excitement. Her blood-gauntlet hummed.
Rhea stood still as a corpse, lips stitched, eyes glowing gold.
Lucian whispered, “This is only the beginning.”
Across the field, Lydia watched the massacre unfold.
She gripped the sides of her throne so hard her nails cracked.
This was not supposed to happen.
And yet, she did not flinch. She could not. She was Queen.
To her right stood a giant in silver armor—Sir Garrick, the Iron Fang, second only to the king in raw strength. His axe rested on his shoulder like a feather.
To her left stood Maedra the Crimson Whisper, a red-robed mage with skin like porcelain and runes burning across her neck. Her eyes were endless wells of arcane madness. She had once summoned a storm to level a mountain. She had no fear.
“These two will break his wings,” Lydia whispered to herself. “He won’t win.”
But deep inside… the fear gnawed. Not because of Lucian’s monsters. Not because of Selene’s defiance. But because of what she saw in Lucian’s eyes—
He was enjoying this.
He was not fighting for vengeance.
He was celebrating his ascension.
> [SYSTEM NOTICE]
You are evolving.
Threshold Reached: 100,000 Terror Points
Begin transformation...
[New Skill Pending Unlock: “Throne of Eternal Night”]
[Locked] – Requires 1 Royal Soul.
And far from the battlefield, buried in a vault beneath the castle, a truth long buried whispered into the silence:
Lydia had not gained her crown through noble rites.
She had once stood in front of the Mirror of Hunger. Offered not her blood—but the blood of her husband.
The King.
She gave up love for power. And power demands interest.
