"What do we do with him, captain?"
A shadow creature in the shape of a minotaur asked. Towering nearly four meters tall, it possessed a broad, monstrous frame wrapped in layers of hardened black muscle that resembled obsidian more than flesh. One of its massive hands rested lazily against its cheek, the creature's crimson eyes fixed upon Mahoraga with indifference.
A second soft voice drifted over moments later, carrying a drawl.
"He did unleash that catastrophe upon our forces. Gods be good, we were millions of miles away… had we been any closer, we would have shared the same fate as the rest. For a moment, upon seeing that radiant star, I thought that the Sun God himself made a divine descent."
A third voice soon joined the exchange between them.
"Yet he saved our asses. Without him, we would have lost this battle. What's left of the Flame would've been slaughtered within the hour," it continued calmly. "The Great One alone would've torn through the frontlines and after it fell, our position would be the most precarious."
Finally, a fourth voice cut through the discussion.
"Enough."
Unlike the others, this voice carried no emotion whatsoever and belonged to a stalwart shadow-red knight — the captain of the last surviving squad of the Freehold.
His vermillion eyes shifted toward the subject of his companions' discussion — the charred figure responsible for the catastrophe that had erased nearly all life across the battlefield. It was Mahoraga, though barely recognizable as human anymore. His entire body had been burned beyond recognition.
His flesh had melted and fused against blackened skin, while every strand of hair had been scorched away, leaving his scalp bald and charred. He looked less like a living man and more like a corpse dragged from a cremation pyre — if not for the faint, uneven rise of his chest.
"We're in no position to decide his fate," the knight said flatly. "Carry him. We'll bring him before the king."
…
A Month Later…
Rain fell endlessly over the black palace.
Sheets of cold water cascaded from the jagged towers of the Freehold, washing across ancient stone stained by soot, blood, and the destruction of war. Thunder rolled through the distant mountains while lightning briefly illuminated the colossal fortress perched above the abyss.
Within its depths, silence reigned.
Heavy footsteps echoed through a vast corridor lined with towering pillars and dim crimson braziers. Shadows drifted through the enormous fortress, carrying trays, messages, food and commands.
None possessed clear features. Their bodies shifted endlessly between humanoid silhouettes and formless darkness, faces flickering in and out of existence beneath deep hoods. Yet despite their indistinct forms, every servant moved with absolute precision, parting instantly as the knight and his squadron advanced through the corridor.
At the center of the procession strode the shadow-red knight, his crimson cloak trailing across the stone floor still slick from the storm outside. Behind him came the minotaur, and trailing behind him in chains was a slightly healthier less-burnt corpse — Mahoraga.
Standing guard over the disaster were the same two shadows from before — one who had argued for his execution, and the other who had spoken in his defense. Twin shadow bugs wearing skin tight armour that barely hid their curves and protruding, spiral maxillas.
Ahead of them, titanic doors slowly emerged through the darkness at the end of the corridor. They towered nearly a hundred meters high, forged from black metal etched with ancient symbols that pulsed faintly beneath the firelight.
Two colossal shadow servants stood guard before them, each resembling armored giants sculpted from darkness itself.
The moment the captain approached, they pushed the doors open, granting them entry into the king's court.
A suffocating pressure spilled outward from the chamber beyond — ancient and monstrous. Even the shadow creatures unconsciously lowered their heads beneath it.
The pressure receded as quickly as it poured out.
But one thing had become undeniably clear — the King was far beyond the mere Awakened Mahoraga had once assumed him to be. To survive while resisting two opposing Divine forces required power of an unimaginable caliber, and Mahoraga had been utterly ignorant of that fact.
The throne room where He resided resembled less a hall and more a dungeon built for giants. Colossal pillars vanished into darkness above, while rivers of molten crimson light flowed through cracks in the floor.
At the far end of the chamber stood a throne carved from what appeared to be intertwined swords and blackened bones.
And upon it sat the King.
His figure was obscured beneath layers of shadow so dense they appeared almost liquid, swallowing even the surrounding light. Only His eyes remained visible — two pale crimson stars staring down upon the world with terrifying stillness.
The captain immediately dropped to one knee.
"My king."
The minotaur and the others followed without hesitation. The only one that remained upright was the one bound in chains, who refused to bend his knee.
For several moments, the King said nothing.
Staring at the Shadow Creature that was supposed to be His subject.
Time had been merciful to Mahoraga. Beneath the weight of his aspect, his regenerative abilities had only continued to evolve, allowing his ruined body to slowly mend throughout the voyage.
Layers of charred flesh gradually peeled away from him in brittle flakes, revealing tender pink skin beneath — new flesh painstakingly reclaiming what the flames had destroyed. His hair slowly returned as well, blonde strands emerging from the scarred remains of his scalp little by little until a full head of blonde hair framed his head once more.
Even so, his recovery hadn't been complete. Patches of pale scar tissue still stretched across his body.
But compared to the corpse they had dragged from the desert a month ago — Mahoraga now looked alive again.
Observing the little shadow that no longer belonged to his Domain, the King continued his vow of silence. His pale crimson eyes studied him in an intensivity that almost felt invasive.
Then, at last — the King leaned forward slightly upon the throne of blades and bones.
"Why do you not bow, child?"
The King's soothing voice echoed through the chamber, it was calm and gentle in a way that instinctively eased his tension, though he could not understand why.
Mahoraga remained standing in silence. The chains around his wrists swayed faintly while every shadow in the hall focused on him.
Then, at last he answered.
"For I am a king in my own right… and kings do not bow."
Upon the throne, the King continued staring at Mahoraga without anger. If anything, His expressionless silence only made the pressure heavier.
"You were born from My Domain," the King said at last. "Your existence carried My mark once."
Mahoraga met those pale crimson eyes directly and stifled a chuckle. His lips slowly parted, curling into a faint smile.
"Once."
_____
A/N - Didn't feel like writing much today otherwise it would have been a much longer chapter. Anyways, drop those power stones chat. I want to hit at least 150 stones by tomorrow at the very least.