The doors of the throne hall parted without a sound. I stepped inside, and the echo of my boots against the mirrored marble seemed like the only worthy sound in that dead silence.
The hall was empty.
I had expected legions of monsters, but before me lay only an endless row of columns and the Throne at the far end. The quartz dais was vacant. No Demon King. Only a lone guard stood frozen at the base, like a gray stone effigy. He didn't even raise his head as I approached, my "astral silver" clanking with every step.
"Where is he?" my voice lashed against the walls. "Where is your cowardly master? Why has he set a mere lackey against the Chosen One?"
Silence. The guard gripped the shaft of a long halberd, staring at something far beyond me.
"Do you hear me, nonentity?" I took a step forward, and the Seal on my chest flared with gold, demanding recognition. "I am Adel von Granz! My strength was calculated by oracles; my blade does not miss. I am the mathematical sum of this era! You should be on your knees from my presence alone!"
I spoke for a long time. I recited my titles, proved the logic of my victory, and described the perfection of my technique. I waited for a tremor of fear, for hatred, for even a glance. But the guard was motionless. His indifference was a defect I could no longer tolerate. He wasn't just silent—he was denying my very existence.
"Fine then," I hissed, raising my rapier. "If you will not speak, you will bleed. It is the only language your kind understands."
I lunged. It was perfect. The speed, the angle, the shimmer—the pinnacle of my mastery.
But the guard simply raised his halberd. With one short, almost lazy movement, he intercepted the distance. The shaft was too long. The grand space between us, which I had planned to cross in a dance of steel, vanished in a fraction of a second. The heavy blade simply cut me in two, ignoring my armor and my "invincibility."
I collapsed before I could even touch him. The world flipped. My rapier clattered away across the floor. From beneath my helmet, I saw my knights, frozen in the doorway, let out a collective scream of horror.
"For Lord Adel!" my unit roared.
They charged forward—a frenzied mob blinded by loyalty. Only Eli, my young squire, tripped from shock and paralyzing fear, tumbling behind a column and covering his head with his hands.
The slaughter was brief. It was mechanical. The guard worked his halberd like a reaper in a field. The clank of metal, short cries, and then—silence. A minute later, no one was left alive in the hall except Eli, who, sensing the lull, scrambled up and bolted out of the castle without looking back.
I lay on the cold marble, watching my own blood stain the flawless "astral silver." From the shadows, that same youth in the canvas shirt stepped out. The "redundant" one. He walked over and knelt beside me. His gaze wasn't human—it was as calm as time itself.
"You know, Adel," he said softly. "You tried so hard to be the light that you blinded yourself. Heroes aren't needed here. Here, they only value the silence."
The youth stood up slowly. The guard remained in place, as motionless and detached as before, offering no sign of acknowledgement. The faceless boy simply turned and walked away into the depths of the empty corridors, dissolving into the pearly light of the halls. There was such a strange, natural confidence in his walk, as if this castle were his home and I were merely an uninvited guest who had finally fallen quiet.
I, Adel von Granz, was left lying in the dust. My Pride had finally received its answer: I was but a stray sound in a world that never even noticed me.
The light in my eyes finally went out.