Chapter 46: Crown of the dead

The Unseen Hand of Fate

Life in the kingdom resumed its usual rhythm. The streets bustled with merchants and travelers, the snow-covered rooftops glistened under the winter sun, and the faint sound of music and laughter drifted from taverns. The festive atmosphere of Eclipsera's Christmas season remained, but Sylas had other concerns.

Sitting at a desk in his temporary lodging, he twirled an ordinary-looking pen between his fingers—except it was anything but ordinary. Crown of the Fallen.

A powerful artifact, disguised in something as mundane as a writing tool, yet capable of bending reality itself. A relic of immense consequence, its true nature was hidden from the world, as it was from even those closest to him.

With a small flick of his wrist, he created a gate, the air shimmering as a small rift in space opened before him. The letter he had just written disappeared into the void, set to arrive where it needed to be.

"I'll be back in a long time, so don't worry about me."

A simple message for his parents in this world. They were good people—too simple and too kind to be involved in his affairs. He would keep them safe by keeping his distance.

A Kingdom in Peril

As the day went on, the capital remained peaceful—until a shadow cast itself over the land.

A sound like thunder roared through the sky, a deep, guttural growl that sent an instinctive shiver down the spine of every soul in the kingdom. The ground trembled, buildings rattled, and the sky darkened as an enormous mountain-sized dragon descended upon the capital.

Panic erupted.

Warriors and soldiers sprang into action, their weapons glinting in the cold light as they clashed against the monstrous beast. The dragon's wings stirred hurricanes, its flames melted steel, and its scales deflected even the finest enchanted blades.

Chaos. Destruction. A losing battle.

And in the midst of it all—Sylas.

He had been moving through the streets when it happened, his mind racing through options, considering whether or not he should intervene.

But before he could make a decision—

Crown of the Fallen activated.

A flash of black light.

A sudden, eerie silence.

The battle stopped. The wind ceased. The flames froze mid-air, suspended like droplets of liquid amber.

Time had stopped.

Sylas staggered, his heart hammering in his chest. His eyes darted around, taking in the frozen city, the unmoving dragon looming above, its massive maw inches from releasing another devastating blast of fire.

"What… just happened?"

He exhaled, steadying himself. Crown of the Fallen only activated when he was in danger.

And yet—he hadn't willed this.

A realization struck him.

"Time isn't just frozen… I can move within it."

He swallowed, forcing himself to think rationally. He was no stranger to impossible situations, but this was beyond anything he had anticipated.

His mind worked quickly. If he could stop time… could he reverse it?

Tentatively, he focused. Pushed against the flow of existence itself.

And the world lurched backward.

The flames retreated into the dragon's throat. The warriors unleashed their war cries in reverse. The city repaired itself, as if reality itself were undoing its wounds.

Sylas pushed time back further—not to the battle's start, but a few hours before.

When he opened his eyes, he stood in a city untouched by destruction, its people still blissfully unaware of what was coming.

Now, he had an opportunity.

A Thread Pulled in the Web of Fate

Without hesitation, Sylas set his plan into motion.

First, he found a postman—a man who worked delivering messages across the kingdom. A harmless, unassuming pawn in the grand game of fate.

With a small use of manipulation, a carefully placed suggestion, Sylas coaxed him into action.

"You know, I heard there's an abandoned cave just outside the kingdom. Wouldn't it be interesting if someone checked it out?"

A simple thought. A harmless notion, planted like a seed.

And so, the postman, driven by sudden curiosity, took a detour on his usual route and wandered into the cave where the dragon slept.

Naturally, he never made it far. The guards were alerted, drawn to the scene by his terrified cries. And this time, instead of waiting for destruction to come to them… the kingdom struck first.

A coordinated assault. A precise, calculated execution.

The warriors and mages, led by the most powerful knights, launched a surprise attack before the beast could wake properly.

And just like that—a disaster was averted before it even began.

A Victory That No One Knew Of

As the kingdom celebrated their miraculous victory, as bards composed songs of heroes who "foresaw the beast's arrival and acted swiftly," Sylas simply leaned against a wall, watching from the shadows.

No one knew what had truly happened.

No one knew that time itself had been rewritten, that their lives had teetered on the brink of ruin, only to be unknowingly saved by a single man.

Sylas folded his arms, exhaling as he cast a glance toward the Crown of the Fallen, still disguised as a simple pen in his hand.

"That was… more troublesome than I expected."

And yet—something about it unsettled him.

Not the act of stopping time.

Not the act of reversing it.

But the fact that it had happened involuntarily.

"Crown of the Fallen… what exactly are you?"

For now, the kingdom was safe. But Sylas knew better than anyone—

There were always greater threats waiting beyond the horizon.

A Warning in the Wind

Sylas sat beside Livia, absentmindedly twirling the pen between his fingers as she spoke. It was an unconscious habit of his, something he did when he was deep in thought—or, in this case, when he was pretending to listen.

He was, of course, paying attention to her words, but his mind was elsewhere.

The Crown of the Fallen—his first treasure—had proven itself invaluable. With it, he could halt time, rewrite history, and command the undead remnants of fallen warriors to fulfill their last wishes.

Yet, despite all its power, it was merely one of seven treasures.

"And I still haven't gotten any closer to the second."

The treasures were scattered across the multiverse, their locations obscured even to him. He had hoped that in this world, he might gain some insight, some clue that would lead him to the next. But even now, after all his time here, he was no closer than when he first arrived.

"If the Crown alone grants me dominion over the dead, what would the others grant me?"

The thought alone was enough to make his fingers tighten around the pen.

And in that moment—the pen pulsed.

A small vibration. Barely noticeable.

But Sylas knew exactly what it meant.

The Crown of the Fallen, in all its inscrutable power, possessed precognition and clairvoyance.

A warning.

Something was about to happen.

He stilled, his body tense as his eyes flicked to Livia—who had noticed his sudden change in demeanor.

"Sylas? What's wrong?"

Before he could answer—

A gate tore open before them.

A spiraling vortex, swirling with energy beyond comprehension, erupted into existence just a few feet away. A rift in space itself.

And before they could react—it pulled them in.

Into the Unknown

The sensation was instantaneous and overwhelming.

One moment, they were in the snowy kingdom, beneath the warm glow of festival lights.

The next—they were falling.

A vast, endless void surrounded them. A sky that was neither dark nor light, filled with shifting colors and incomprehensible symbols. The air hummed with ancient energy, as if the very fabric of reality was woven with spells beyond mortal understanding.

Livia gritted her teeth, reaching for her weapon—but Sylas knew it was useless.

"This isn't an attack. This is a displacement."

Someone—or something—had dragged them here.

And as they landed upon a floating platform of black stone, Sylas felt the familiar cold weight of fate settling upon his shoulders.

He had been searching for the next treasure.

It seemed the treasure had decided to find him first.