Chapter Forty-Eight – The Smile of the Immortal King
The fortress of Shadowfall stood atop a broken mountain, surrounded by mists darker than night, clouds laced with ancient curses, and an ever-humming aura of dread that settled in the bones of those unworthy to approach.
Deep within the stone citadel, inside a hall carved from obsidian and dragon bone, Andrew, the Immortal King, stood in silence. Shadows danced around him like wolves guarding their alpha. His silver eyes, cold and ethereal, pierced through the veil of time and space itself.
He had just watched a projection of the Sultan's war council—a courtesy delivered by one of his many spies lost in the outer veil of shadows. For a long moment, Andrew said nothing. The room was silent, save for the faint echo of whispers that had no mouth.
And then…
He smiled.
A slow, dangerous grin—one not born from joy, but from pure, unfiltered amusement.
"He really thinks," Andrew said with a chuckle, "that ten thousand mortal men will be enough to erase my kingdom. That he can bind me like some beast of myth."
From the corner of the room stepped Andrei, draped in his new shadow-forged robes, his body glowing with runes of enchantment.
"They are ready," Andrei said, kneeling. "The Tenth Battalion of high-ranking Shadow Knights. Ten companies, all former generals of the New Order. Each of them has sworn eternal loyalty—each blade and armor piece now fully enhanced with dark enchantments."
A line of energy shimmered from Andrei's fingertips as a scroll rolled open beside him. Within it were the names of all the soldiers who had survived the wars against Andreas, now reshaped by shadow magic.
"They await your command," Andrei finished.
Andrew stepped forward, resting one hand on the Hollow Crown—a relic once worn by kings, now corrupted by his will. His voice dropped to a whisper that echoed louder than any scream.
"Good. Let the Sultan play with his plans. He's a child playing at war."
Mihai emerged from the dark curtain, arms crossed, shadow aura coiling around him like a cape of mist. "Shall we begin our advance into Alex's kingdom?" he asked. "His capital houses your sister. It won't be long before the Sultan's forces reach it. If they breach it before us…"
"They won't," Andrew said. "My sister will not be touched."
He turned toward the central mirror—an orb made from the eye of the last Elder Dragon. It revealed a slow-growing red dot approaching the coastlines near Verthas, the city where Natalia now lived with Mario.
"Send the Tenth Battalion ahead," Andrew commanded. "I want that city under Shadow Command within the day. I want them there before the Sultan even sets his boots on that soil."
Mihai nodded. "They'll be feared. These knights… they're monsters."
"They are my monsters," Andrew said with pride. "Each of them forged in the fire of betrayal, death, and war. Former enemies. Former allies. Now brothers of the Abyss."
Andrei rose slowly. "If I may speak freely," he said.
Andrew gestured his approval.
"I still don't trust the flame within the Sultan's armies. That weapon—the Oracle Flame—it's not just a weapon. It's alive. If they unleash it…"
Andrew walked forward and placed a hand on Andrei's shoulder. His touch sent a ripple of calm—and cold—into Andrei's soul.
"Let him unleash it," Andrew whispered. "Let him show the world what true fear looks like."
He turned back toward the black map sprawled on the wall—no longer divided by borders, but only by shadows and light.
"This world will learn," he said, "that darkness… isn't always evil. Sometimes, it's just the only thing left when hope dies."
Then Andrew raised his hand.
Within moments, ten shadows leapt from the far corners of the room — towering warriors clad in enchanted black and crimson armor, eyes glowing red, blades humming with spells older than the fall of the New Order.
The Tenth Battalion had arrived.
Andrew addressed them.
"You were once the champions of a kingdom that failed. Now, you are death given form. You will defend the city of Natalia with your lives. If one enemy sets foot inside those gates, you will turn the land into an eternal battlefield."
The knights pounded their fists against their chests. "By your shadow, we serve!"
Andrew nodded.
"Mihai, send them. Andrei, prepare the Eleventh."
"Yes, my king," they both replied.
Andrew looked once more into the flames of prophecy — into the face of Sultan Mohamed, who believed himself the harbinger of order.
"And now," Andrew whispered with a smirk, "the real war begins."