In the depths beneath the Yurei Tower, past vaults carved with anti-spirit glyphs and sealed chambers that hadn't been opened in centuries, Milo Varn stood before an obsidian altar.
Around him were thirteen cloaked figures — the Inner Cabal.
And in the center of the altar, a box. Small. Wooden. Burned black with age.
"It's not ready," Soraya hissed at his side. "This isn't just forbidden — this is irreversible."
"I'm not here for your fear," Milo said calmly. "I'm here for the throne."
He knelt before the box.
Whispered a name.
"Sha'Zul, Devourer of Quiet Light. I summon thee under pact unbroken…"
The air turned still.
Even the shadows refused to move.
Then — a whisper.
Not in words, but in presence.
The box shuddered.
A hairline crack opened across its lid.
From it leaked something darker than shadow — an absence of light that made even darkness recoil.
The Cabal fell to their knees as Sha'Zul, one of the Nine Forgotten, awakened.
"WHO DARES."
"I do," Milo said. "I summon you to claim a name."
"A PRICE IS DUE."
"I offer years of blood. Power. Worship. Anything."
"THE NAME."
"Chess Golding."
The darkness paused.
Then laughed.
"THAT NAME… OWNS A THRONE I ONCE KNEW."
Soraya gasped. "He's tied to the Nine?"
Milo clenched his jaw.
"I want him dismantled. I want the world to forget he existed."
"YOU WILL HAVE YOUR WISH."
But Sha'Zul didn't say how.
Because creatures like him never did favors.
They twisted fate.
Far from the ceremony, in a monastery hidden in the jungles of Zui'na, a monk tending to lanterns suddenly collapsed.
Flames flickered into black.
Monks whispered prayers — but the wind wouldn't carry them.
One of them, the eldest, whispered:
"A Forgotten One walks again."
Back in the city, Chess sat on a rooftop, eyes closed.
Lance stood behind him, uneasy.
"You feel that?" Lance asked.
Chess nodded. Slowly.
"Someone just lit a flare in the Underworld," Chess murmured.
"They want you dead."
"No," Chess said quietly, "they want to erase me. But they don't know..."
He opened his eyes. They were glowing faintly with silver.
"…I never left."
Milo emerged from the chamber changed.
Something about him felt thinner — like reality had to stretch to hold him now.
"Begin Phase Two," he told Soraya. "Let the world start hating the name Chess Golding."
"And Elsa?" she asked.
Milo smiled.
"She'll fall in love with the wrong man."
Meanwhile, Elsa was watching security footage when a frame glitched.
She froze it.
Zoomed in.
In the reflection of a window behind her — barely visible — was a figure in a black hoodie.
Face shadowed.
But for a second… it looked like Chess.
"What are you hiding from me?" she whispered.
In the streets, things shifted.
People who crossed paths with Chess began having "accidents."
Online rumors surfaced, twisting his name.
Business deals Elsa negotiated started falling apart with no warning — always moments after Chess left the room.
The world was being rewritten.
And behind it all… something with no name whispered to Milo:
"ONE PIECE AT A TIME… HIS NAME WILL FADE."
But Chess… wasn't going to let that happen.