The fire had not yet faded from the sky when the Mysterious King leapt from the smoking crater. His cloak billowed behind him like the wings of a phoenix, eyes locked on the titanic golem whose molten chest still steamed from the impact of his sword.
With every step, his boots left glowing footprints in the sand.
The Golem roared—a sound like mountains grinding together—and raised its colossal arm to strike.
But the King was already gone.
He blurred forward with speed unnatural for a man his size, and with one upward slash, his greatsword carved a line of flame across the Golem's forearm. Stone burst into shards.
The demigod reeled but did not fall.
Etreuf pulled Lyssara behind the cover of a broken dune wall, eyes never leaving the battlefield. "Who is he, really?"
Lyssara didn't answer.
Her hand gripped the hilt of her dagger tighter. Her eyes were fixed on the King, not with awe… but fear.
Meanwhile, Adam had finally completed his ritual. Sigils etched in the sand glowed blue and gold, forming a containment ring around the battlefield. He gasped, "It'll hold the golem back for a few minutes—but not if it gets enraged."
Above them, the Mysterious King fought like a storm given flesh.
His dagger spun like a flame-wreathed fang, slicing into weak points as he dodged between massive fists. At one point, he leapt onto the Golem's back, drove the dagger deep between two runic seams, then used it as a pivot to launch himself skyward—bringing his greatsword down like a meteor onto the golem's neck.
The ground erupted in fire and sand.
In the chaos, Etreuf turned to Lyssara. "He said to keep an eye on you. Why?"
She looked down. "There are things you don't know."
Etreuf's voice hardened. "Start talking."
She hesitated.
"When I was a child," she said, "my father—Valtherion—hid something inside me. A seal. A song. Something ancient. I don't know what it is, but the Mysterious King… he knows. He's been watching me ever since."
Back on the battlefield, the Golem, now cracked and battered, unleashed a devastating surge of energy. Runes all over its body flared in brilliant gold. It roared and slammed its fists together, sending out a shockwave that shattered the sky.
The Mysterious King stood his ground. His cloak burned away. His skin seared.
But he grinned.
"You're strong," he said, "but not nearly interesting enough."
With one final swing of his greatsword, he slashed through the runes controlling the golem's mind—the ones planted by Nadrath's music. Flames surged through the demigod's body, purging the corruption.
The Golem staggered, then froze—its body locking in place, kneeling like a fallen god, its glow fading.
Silence returned to the desert.
Nadrath, still barely alive, laughed weakly.
"You stopped it… but the song… it still echoes…"
Etreuf approached, dragging Nadrath up by the collar. "What song?"
Nadrath coughed blood, whispering:
"The golem was only one verse… of the symphony your world is about to hear…"
He died smiling.
The Mysterious King sheathed his dagger.
Then, turning to Etreuf and Lyssara, he said,
"This was a warning. The next movement has already begun."
The heat of the battle had faded, but the air was still heavy with the scent of scorched stone and the ghost of Nadrath's final note. The golem knelt silent, cracks across its massive shoulders, its chest dim—but not dead.
The desert wind returned.
It whispered between the dunes as if the land were holding its breath.
The Mysterious King stood atop a ridge of blackened glass, watching the horizon. His greatsword had cooled. His cloak was gone, burned to ash. His voice, when he finally spoke, was quiet—but clear.
"I didn't come here to save Zyrion."
Etreuf stepped forward. "Then why?"
The King turned slightly. "I came for a meeting. With your king—Siro Al'Vahir. He sent for me. He said the pieces were moving again… and that Lyssara might be the key."
Lyssara's face paled. "Why me?"
The King looked at her. And for the first time since his arrival, his fire dimmed.
"Because your father has been looking for you. All over the world."
Her breath caught. "My father is alive?"
The King nodded. "Not just alive. Restless. Obsessed. Ever since you vanished, he's turned kingdoms upside down to find you. And the one leading the search… is the man he trusts most."
He stepped closer. "His right hand. The one called Kalaron the Silent Flame. A man strong enough to be king—if he didn't worship your father like a god."
Lyssara looked down, stunned. "Kalaron…"
The King's expression darkened. "Your father promised you to him."
Silence.
The wind picked up again.
Elliot stepped forward.
He stood between the King and Lyssara, fists clenched.
"You want me to back off," he said.
The King studied him. "Yes."
"She's not yours to protect."
"I'm not protecting her," the King replied, "I'm protecting you."
His voice grew sharp. "You don't know what lies ahead. You don't know what that man—Kalaron—is capable of. You don't know the curse bound to her bloodline. If you stay by her side, only despair awaits you."
Elliot didn't blink.
"I don't care," he said. "I will protect her—no matter what. Even if the enemy is unbeatable, then I'll just—"
He looked up, eyes glowing faintly.
"—transcend the meaning of unbeatable."
The Mysterious King was silent for a long time.
Then he turned his head, just enough to hide his face.
A single tear fell down his cheek.
And then he smiled.
"I wanted to say that once," he said softly. "A long time ago."
He stepped away, sword resting on his shoulder again, his voice casual as if none of it had happened.
"We should move. The golem isn't dead. Only… dreaming. And it's a light sleeper."
He disappeared into the desert a moment later, flames flickering behind his footsteps.