Chapter 38: Echoes of a Forgotten King

A Battlefield Without War

The silence was unbearable.

A battlefield should never be this quiet. Even after a battle, the world should still breathe—wind howling through ruined terrain, embers crackling in the remnants of destruction, the wounded groaning in pain.

But now—nothing.

Jorath's own heartbeat sounded too loud in his ears.

Eryndra's breathing was controlled, but her fingers twitched against the hilt of her blade. She wasn't relaxed. None of them were.

Because they all saw it.

Thalos Arctur was no longer the same.

And that was the most terrifying thing of all.

The Weight of the Abyss

He stood there, the Rift closed behind him, but the echo of it remained.

The sky had not returned to normal. The stars had not realigned.

And the kneeling figures—the Forgotten Ones—still knelt.

No order had been given.

No chains bound them.

And yet, they refused to rise.

Jorath's throat felt dry. He had seen monsters, warlords, and aberrations that defied logic. He had even faced abyssal horrors that lurked in the Rift itself.

But never had he seen it kneel.

Not to a god.

Not to a king.

But to Thalos.

A Power That Should Not Exist

Jorath took a cautious step forward. "Thalos."

His friend—if he could still be called that—turned his head slightly, golden irises catching the faintest glimmer of the blackened sky.

That same smile remained.

Not cruel.

Not arrogant.

But calm.

A certainty in his posture, as if this had been inevitable from the very beginning.

"Jorath." His voice was smooth, unwavering. As if nothing had happened. As if he hadn't just commanded something beyond the reach of gods.

Jorath's fists clenched. "What did you do?"

Thalos exhaled slowly. "I reclaimed what was always mine."

The words sent a chill through his spine.

Jorath had been by Thalos' side for years. He had seen his victories, his struggles, his impossible rise through the ranks.

But not once—not once—had he ever claimed something like that.

Eryndra finally spoke, voice sharp. "You expect us to believe that?"

Thalos turned to fully face them now, the Forgotten Ones still unmoving behind him. He studied Eryndra, amusement flickering in his eyes.

"Believe whatever you wish." He stepped forward. "It changes nothing."

Jorath instinctively took a step back.

And that was when it hit him.

Something Fundamental Had Changed

It wasn't an aura.

It wasn't a curse or an enchantment.

It was presence.

Thalos had always been formidable, a prodigy of both blade and mind. But there had always been a limit, a boundary that separated mortals from the divine.

That limit was gone.

Jorath couldn't explain it. Couldn't comprehend it.

But he knew—deep in the marrow of his bones—that what stood before him was no longer bound by mortal constraints.

Eryndra's fingers twitched again, but she didn't draw her sword.

Because drawing a blade against something like this would be pointless.

The Truth Beneath the Lie

Jorath exhaled, trying to steady his thoughts. "You owe us an explanation."

Thalos tilted his head. "Do I?"

Jorath's patience snapped. "Damn it, Thalos! We were willing to fight beside you, die beside you—" He gestured to the Rift. "But this? This isn't something you just walk away from!"

Thalos watched him carefully.

Then—he did something unexpected.

He closed his eyes.

For a moment, the battlefield stood frozen.

Then—

The Forgotten Ones moved.

Jorath stiffened. Not in aggression, not in hostility.

But in departure.

Their kneeling forms slowly faded into the blackened air, their shapes dissolving into shadow, as if they had never been there in the first place.

The weight on the battlefield lessened.

The Rift had closed.

And now—its echoes had been silenced.

The Unfinished War

Thalos opened his eyes again.

This time, there was no golden glow. No ethereal power emanating from his form.

Just Thalos.

Just the man they had fought beside all these years.

But Jorath knew better.

Something fundamental had changed.

And no amount of pretending could erase that fact.

Eryndra's voice was barely above a whisper. "What… happens now?"

For the first time, Thalos hesitated.

And that—more than anything else—was what terrified Jorath the most.

Because it meant that even he didn't know.

The war they thought they were fighting… was no longer the war that mattered.

Something far greater had begun.

And they were all already too late to stop it.