dropped at his feet.
The smiling one.
The leader knelt. Held its hand.
It was cold. But… something in it resembled him.
"You smiled… for us." "And I never once smiled for you."
He whispered these words, Then closed the corpse's eyes… Which weren't Jarn's, But made him grieve him just the same.
PHASE II – For Now… We Are Stronger
Once the swords quieted, And the ghosts' whispers ceased, Only ragged breaths remained, Echoing between stone walls as if the castle itself sighed with them.
Lius stood, wiping blood not his own. He spoke without looking back:
"I'm starting to understand… This castle doesn't attack. It remembers."
The leader knelt, Staring into a broken piece of a dead soldier's helmet, Seeing not light—but something in his own eyes reflected.
Slowly, he rose. And said in a calm tone:
"If the castle remembers… Then perhaps it hates forgetting more than we do."
They moved toward the next corridor. After a few steps… The ground beneath them glowed.
A pale green light formed interlocking circles, Each etched with ancient runes like those in royal tombs.
The air thickened… Then suddenly— their bodies felt lighter.
"Do you feel…?" Lius whispered.
"Yes. Like something inside us has awakened." Replied the leader, gripping his sword, now lighter than usual.
As if the castle… was giving them something.
Power? Acknowledgment?
Or merely a gift to honor the dead— Using the last of its strength.
The leader felt sharper. He could hear Lius breathing, Every footstep echoed like time itself slowed.
He raised his head, looked ahead, And said with less coldness:
"Maybe… we can go on. This isn't a gift—it's a will."
Lius was silent for a moment, then said:
"Be careful… In castles that grant power, Sometimes the end is not your enemy—it's your erasure."
But the leader gave no reply. He continued walking, As if, for one brief moment, He believed they were stronger than this castle.
They entered through a low gate, Decorated with root-like carvings, As if passing through the veins of the earth.
And when they emerged on the other side…
They saw the courtyard.
PHASE III – The Courtyard of the Dead Garden
They emerged from the corridor as if surfacing from the earth itself— And found themselves at the edge of a strange, dead courtyard, suffocated in gloom.
The sky above wasn't like any sky. Gray. Sunless. Moonless. Endless. As if this place no longer belonged to the world.
Dead trees encircled it, Trunks smooth, leafless, Like they were carved from gray bone—not wood.
The ground was cracked and barren, But the cracks weren't natural— More like something had tried to crawl out… and died.
At the center… A leaning stone monolith, perhaps once a throne—or a guillotine. Covered in moss, not green… but the color of ash soaked in ancient blood.
The leader and Lius stood in silence.
As if all they had endured was merely preparation for this place.
Lius whispered: "Many fell here."
The leader replied: "No one ever stood again."
Moments passed. Then the air began to contract around them.
A wind without sound. A strange pressure on their shoulders.
Then… from the far edge of the courtyard, A shadow moved.
Not just a shadow—but a body emerging from behind a shattered pillar, Dragging its sword, Each step stirring the dust as if the earth punished it for being forgotten.
It stopped. Facing them.
The Monster Knight.
But not as they'd seen it before.
It was darker, Its armor cracked and pierced—but still standing… More solid than the stones of the castle.
Its eyes were sunken pits, Holding history that hated all who came after.
The leader raised his sword. But Lius grabbed his wrist.
"Wait."
"Not yet."
"He's standing still—not attacking. He wants us to start."
The leader's eyes welled. His features tensed:
"Then let's end this."
Lius: "Let him choose. Maybe… you're not the one being tested."
The words hit like stone. The leader stared at him.
"You… don't intend to stay, do you?"
Lius smiled—for the first time in a long while. A farewell smile.
"If you reach the end—we've won. If you don't… we've all lost."
The leader gasped silently. Then… nodded.
"Then I'll go."
He ran. Without looking back.
Behind him, Lius drew his sword slowly, As the Monster Knight began to move— With heavy steps.
The leader, entering the next corridor, Heard the clash of steel…
And Lius's voice, calm as if speaking to death itself:
"Come then. But you won't pass this earth unless you go through me."
PHASE IV – Drowning Within
Running felt like fleeing— But not from death… From the meaning of life when it abandons you.
Each step the leader took Tore something from his chest, As if his heart was no longer a heart, but a mirror— Reflecting all he'd lost, While he ran alone.
He entered a stone corridor, Twisted, dark, Faint light slipping through cracks in the ancient ceiling.
The place wasn't just suffocating— The walls whispered:
"If you'd loved them… they wouldn't be here."
He stopped suddenly. Bent slightly, Placed his hand on the wall. His finger trembled at a warm sensation— Blood? No. Memory.
Raela…
She was the first to come back to him, Not her face— But her voice, from a night long ago:
"I don't ask you to love me… Just don't deny that I saw you."
He remembered those words as if from another life. How he avoided her eyes, Used his duties as excuses, Told himself his heart had no room.
But the truth was deeper.
There was someone else. Someone not yet named. Someone who had filled his heart.
So no one else could ever get close enough.
Not even Raela.
"If only I had space for her…" He whispered. "She might have lived in it."
He hadn't rejected her cruelly, But gently… And that, he now realized, Was the cruelest kind.
He kept walking.
In another corner of memory, He heard laughter.
Jarn's laugh.
"Commander… mind if I'm the last jester at your funeral?"
He laughed then— But didn't realize Jarn was speaking of his own death, Not the commander's.
"I joked so you wouldn't panic. So you wouldn't feel like you were leading us into a fate unknown."
Now, he finally understood— Jarn wasn't the weakest. He was the strongest.
He laughed to lift them, While he died in silence.
Then he heard… Silence. Not a sound. The absence of sound.
Dal.
The one who never spoke, But always understood, As if each of them walked on the land of his unspoken words.
He once said:
"I don't speak… because words won't save you. You seek stillness in us, But you never gave it to anyone."
Now he understood.
Then finally… Lius.
His voice wasn't in memory, But in the air. Still echoing through the castle halls, Fighting not for survival— But to give the leader time to remember everything… Before forgetting himself.
"I wasn't their leader, Just a witness to all their deaths."
He said it faintly, Then dropped to his knees.
Tears fell.
For the first time in his journey—
He cried.
PHASE V – Blood, Not Flesh
He passed through the final corridor, There was no echo— No footsteps.
As if he wasn't walking, But gliding through a quiet void— Like falling in a dream that never ends, With no knowing where he'll wake.
Then… He saw it.
The courtyard.
Wide, open to the gray sky. Light filtered in as if imprisoned, Touching the earth… then retreating, Then dissolving before reaching anything.
He stepped forward.
Again.
Then stopped.
Something on the ground… Waiting to be seen.
Not a body. Not a bone. Not even a broken blade.
Just…
A line of blood.
Thin, deliberate, Written carefully across the stones, Like a message in a language only intuition understands.
"Lius…"
He said it with a fractured voice, Then knelt by the blood, Placed his hand on the stain.
It was warm.
Still fresh.
Still… real.
He looked to the sky… And murmured:
"You didn't want me to see your body."
"So you left me this blood. As if to say: If you must say goodbye—do it here. Where I no longer have a face, But still leave a trace."
He reached to the ground, Drew a circle around the blood with his finger.
Like making a grave with no body. Like holding a funeral for one who left… standing.
He whispered:
"I could've seen you. But I was too late."
Then he sat on his knees. Took a long breath.
And said:
"I wasn't a leader… I was the witness to all their ends."
He closed his eyes, As if this confession… Was harder than all that came before.
Silence.
And while he sank into it, A shadow opened behind him.
A shadow with no voice, No features.
But its presence… Changed the air.
PHASE VI – The Final Encounter
The leader had crossed the last side corridor from the upper floor. The place held no clear form… Everything looked like a castle that had withered from within.
As if it wasn't destroyed by time, But by memory.
He looked left, And saw a half-broken window, No glass, Frame cracked at the top, Overlooking a familiar ground…
The throne courtyard.
He hadn't entered it yet. But there he stood, above it, Watching like one who had no role in the scene.
The yard looked empty at first… But the shadows within weren't still.
He saw a shape moving… slowly… Distant from the center, by the far wall.
"Is someone there…?"
He muttered.
The shape wasn't clear. Not tall enough to be human, Not twisted enough to be ghostly. But far too real.
He stepped back… Then froze.
A sound.
Metal scraping stone.
A sound he could never mistake.
A sword being dragged.
It appeared from a corridor— The Monster Knight.
Emerging slowly, Its body larger than remembered. Steps steady, Dragging its blade like someone dragging the corpse of memory.
The leader froze. Not in fear… But in awe, As if witnessing something he wasn't meant to see.
But then… The earlier shadow…
Was still there. It hadn't vanished. Now it stood.
Becoming clearer.
The figure wasn't man, Nor ghost, But something… with the solemnity of death, And the dignity of ages.
Tall enough to cast a terrifying silhouette, Still enough to resemble a statue, Yet when it moved— The entire courtyard seemed to shift.
The leader—watching from above— Whispered without thought:
"What… is that?"
The being stepped down from a stone ledge, And calmly advanced toward the Monster Knight.
No one spoke.
The knight didn't strike. But the tension was enough to suffocate the sky.
Now… the leader saw the features.
Slightly pointed ears… Pale skin untouched by gray light… Eyes not red—but entirely black. A stillness beyond life or death.
"Vampyr?" He asked himself.
But the answer didn't come from his lips— It came from the chill in his skin:
"No. Something older… Purer… More dangerous."
Then… In a flash, Without warning, The knight charged.
The other didn't move much, But the force was enough to split air.
The courtyard ignited.
The leader stepped back, Hid behind the window frame.
Not from fear… But from reverence.
He knew instantly—
This was not his fight. And no human could intervene.
But he also understood something else:
This battle wouldn't just determine his fate, But the fate of what remained of the world.
End of Chapter Two