A suffocating presence seeped into the train car, thick as ink, as a voice—deep, commanding, and inescapable—filled every inch of space.
"Hmm? Defiance? From you? How... quaint."
The words did not merely echo; they slithered, sinking into the marrow of those who heard them. They were not spoken. They were imposed.
"The air itself carries your secrets to me. The very ground beneath your feet whispers your trepidations. There is no refuge from my gaze, no sanctuary for your thoughts. Your consciousness is but an extension of my own. You exist within the boundaries of my awareness, and those boundaries are absolute."
The temperature plummeted. The air itself grew heavy, pressing against lungs, refusing to be breathed. The walls of the train groaned, metal bending beneath an unseen force.
The soldiers froze—not by choice. Their limbs betrayed them, locked in place as if unseen hands gripped their very souls.
Captain Touri twitched. His breaths came in ragged, uneven gasps—like something unseen was crushing his ribs inward, suffocating him from the inside out.
Then—a pulse.
The space around them warped, contracting and expanding—like the heartbeat of something vast and monstrous. The voice returned. Slow. Deliberate. Absolute.
"How long will you learn?"
The pressure intensified. Their very thoughts felt like they were being crushed, their minds drowning under an unseen weight. The walls of reality seemed to close in—not with physical destruction, but with a force that commanded obedience.
"There are names that echo through history, names that command nations. Mine is one such name. Utter it without kneeling, and you utter your own doom.."
The lights flickered. Shadows stretched across the walls—wrong, unnatural, twisting into grotesque shapes that had no right to exist.
"My presence is not a momentary flicker. I am here, I have always been, and I will always be."
Captain Touri's eyes rolled back. His body spasmed violently. Blood leaked from his nose and ears. The mere pressure of the voice was unraveling him from the inside out. His heartbeat slowed, struggling against the force that threatened to stop it entirely.
The soldiers felt it too. Their very souls teetered on the edge of collapse.
The voice grew softer, yet its grip tightened.
"I am eternal."
Their knees buckled. The floor beneath them felt endless—like they were falling into an abyss.
"I am power itself."
His comrades could only watch in horror while captain Touri twisted with violent Forces.
"Your ancestors kneeled."
His eyes—once human—turned black as the void. No whites. No pupils. No soul left within him.
"And now, you dare stand?"
Touri turned.
He was no longer a man.
The soldiers stepped back in horror, gripping their weapons. But it was too late.
The thing that had once been Touri came inside of his stomach, control him and lunged.
Commander Henn's hands trembled.
His closest friend—his brother-in-arms—was gone. What remained was a nightmare given form.
A voice. Faint. Struggling.
—buried beneath layers of agony and monstrosity.
"Kill… me…"
Henn clenched his jaw.
"Touri..."
His voice was barely a whisper, laced with unbearable pain, the echo of "Kill me" still ringing in the air.
"What did he done to you? Why... why did he take you from us like this?"
His eyes, though filled with sorrow, meet Touri's with a heartbreaking resolve.
"Then so be it. There's only one way to end this... for both of us."
His hands shook and aim at him.
Then—BANG.
A single shot.
BANG. BANG. BANG.
Each bullet a dagger to his heart.
Touri collapsed.
His eyes, now at peace, met his friend's one last time.
"Thank… you…"
Then—silence.
Henn dropped to his knees, gripping his fallen comrade's hand.
"Safe... I told you to be safe." His voice was broken. "And I... I did this."
Inside the Grand Hall of the Crowned Throne.
The massive doors of CrownKing's throne room opened, and three figures entered in silence, carrying a single crown they had retrieved from the train.
The hall was vast, its darkness broken only by the eerie glow of five crowns displayed in a perfect circle above his throne, One of the crowns is on CrownKing's head. These crowns, once belonging to powerful rulers, were now nothing more than trophies—a reminder that all sovereignty bowed to him.
At the foot of the grand throne's twin staircases, two women stood motionless.
They were his Left and Right Hands, known as Prime Crown. Unlike the Hanawa, they were responsible for controlling the weather here—and only they could approach him up close.
Without hesitation, they stepped forward, took the retrieved crown, and ascended toward the throne.
CrownKing sits on his grand throne with an unsettling elegance. His right leg crosses over his left, not out of comfort but as a display of deliberate control. His right arm supports his head, resting lazily on the armrest, while his left arm stretches out, relaxed yet precise in its positioning.
His face hidden in the shadows, his mere presence heavier than the air itself. The throne chamber held four seats of power, one for each Crown Emperor, including himself. He sat at the highest seat, while the others—Ranks 1, 2, and 3—sat below him in descending order of strength and status
The weight of the moment pressed upon them all. None dared to speak without permission.
The Left Hand finally broke the silence.
"Your Highness, your influence spreads across the world. Your name is known in every kingdom. We have gathered almost all the crowns scattered across the lands and I have summoned Hanawa to honor your greatness." She looked at the Crown. "They never would have found this crown without him—he has arrived, Your Highness."
She gestured toward a man kneeling before the throne.
The man bowed low, lowering himself fully to the ground before rising to his knees.
"It is an honor beyond words to stand before you, Your Highness," he said. "To receive your summons is a privilege greater than any duty I have ever served, even in the highest ranks of government. I humbly offer my gratitude."
A long, cold silence followed.
Then, CrownKing exhaled.
"You disappoint me."
His voice was slow, deliberate, and heavy with disdain.
"You assured me these crowns were authentic, yet they fail to match my vision… You speak so convincingly, so skillfully in matters of negotiation— and yet, you dared to lie to me?"
The air grew thick, suffocating under the weight of his displeasure.
He leaned forward slightly, his presence alone enough to crush lesser beings.
"Tell me…"
His voice, smooth yet venomous, dripped with restrained fury.
"Did you think I would not see through your deception? That I—a king—would be fooled by the words of a mere servant?"
A chilling silence followed, more terrifying than any outburst. The room seemed to darken, as if even the shadows recoiled from his wrath.
His fingers lightly tapped against the armrest of his throne.
"And as for the rest of you," his voice darkened, "do you think I care about my name being known? Do you believe I would be satisfied by this?"
A pause.
Then, his voice sharpened like a blade.
"This crown is FAKE."
The words fell like a decree of death.
"The crown I seek is still missing," he continued. "For centuries after centuries, I have granted you power. I have raised your ranks, allowed you to breathe the air of my kingdom, given you strength—AND YET, YOU BRING ME NOTHING."
The Hanawa trembled at his words.
"You stand before me, basking in failure. Do you take me for a patient king?"
His fingers tightened around the armrest.
"I accept these crowns not out of satisfaction but to measure your worth. Do not mistake my tolerance for mercy."
His gaze flickered toward the kneeling man.
"You dare ask me for details before?"
His voice dropped to a venomous whisper.
"You dare suggest that I, who have sought for thousands of years, have simply… forgotten?"
His fingers tightened once more.
"The crown I seek is unlike any other. It radiates power beyond mortal comprehension. Gold—brighter than the sun. Its crest, a blade-like symbol of supremacy."
He exhaled sharply.
"I saw it once, long ago. I remember it clearly. And yet, for all your endless searching, none of you have found it."
Silence.
"This time, I will not accept failure. No more counterfeits. No more excuses. Bring me the True Crown… or else, meet your demise."
The Hanawa dared not breathe.
They had been warned.
With a flick of his wrist, he dismissed them.
They bowed deeply and left the grand hall.
They knew that if they failed again… they would not return.
This was only the beginning
End of Chapter 3