Chapter 12 : The Ruins That Shouldn’t Exist.

Ethan wiped the sweat from his brow. His breath came fast, but his mind was calm. Focused. Sharp.

They had flipped the script.

The Retrievers were down. Seran's forces had lost their scouts.

And now?

Now it was Ethan's turn to control the battlefield.

He turned to Zehris, who was lazily examining one of the fallen knights' weapons.

"We need to move," Ethan said. "Now."

Zehris grinned. "Where to?"

Ethan didn't hesitate.

"The Red Wastes."

Zehris's amusement flickered.

Then—he laughed.

"Oh," he murmured. "That's bold."

Ethan didn't smile.

It wasn't bold.

It was suicide.

But right now, they weren't choosing between good options.

They were choosing between bad and worse.

And Seran?

Seran would never expect Ethan to run toward a wasteland filled with monsters, wild magic, and forgotten ruins.

Because no sane person would.

Which was exactly why Ethan was going to do it.

Back in the ruined village, Seran Durell stood over the fallen Retrievers.

His expression didn't change.

He simply watched as his men groaned in pain, struggling to rise.

Then—he sighed.

"They planned this."

His second-in-command, Tier 4 Knight Caelis Varro, frowned.

"Sir?"

Seran crouched beside the injured men, examining their wounds.

Then, finally—he smiled.

"They weren't trying to escape," he murmured.

"They were leading us."

Caelis's expression darkened. "Leading us where?"

Seran looked toward the horizon.

And for the first time in a long, long time—

He was curious.

Ethan and Zehris moved fast.

The Red Wastes were two days away, but Ethan knew they wouldn't get that much time.

Seran was too smart.

He would realize the moment his Retrievers failed to report that something was wrong.

Which meant—they had to make every step count.

Zehris glanced at him. "So what's in the Wastes, exactly?"

Ethan's jaw tightened.

"In the book?" he said. "Nothing important."

Zehris raised an eyebrow. "And in reality?"

Ethan exhaled.

"Something the empire doesn't want anyone to find."

Zehris grinned.

"Now I'm interested."

Ethan didn't answer.

Because the truth was?

He didn't know what they would find either.

The Red Wastes were a dead zone in the novel. A place never fully explored.

Which meant—for the first time since arriving in this world—

Ethan was walking into the unknown.

And that?

That was the most dangerous thing of all.

The Red Wastes stretched before them—a land of broken earth and endless silence.

Ethan had seen it on maps before.

A vast, barren expanse on the empire's southern border. Too hostile for settlements. Too dangerous for armies.

And in Eclipse of the Eternal Empire?

It was a dead zone.

A place where nothing important ever happened.

But now?

Now he was certain that had been a lie.

Because as he and Zehris crossed the threshold into the Wastes, the first thing Ethan saw was bones.

Not animal bones.

Human.

They moved cautiously, stepping over shattered armor, rusted weapons, and sun-bleached skulls.

Some bodies were old—centuries old.

Others?

Far too fresh.

Zehris examined a half-buried longsword, its hilt still wrapped in bloodstained leather.

"Interesting," he murmured. "Your empire claims no one comes here."

Ethan's jaw tightened.

"Yeah."

Another lie.

Because this wasn't just a wasteland.

It was a battlefield.

And someone had gone to great lengths to erase it.

The deeper they traveled, the worse the air felt.

Not just hot. Not just dry.

Wrong.

Zehris noticed it too. His silver eyes flickered, his usual smirk fading.

"There's something here," he muttered. "Something… old."

Ethan had no idea what he meant—until they reached the first ruin.

A city.

Or at least, what remained of one.

Massive stone structures rose from the cracked earth, half-buried in sand and dust.

Ethan's stomach dropped.

Because these ruins weren't on any map.

And worse?

The architecture was identical to the imperial capital.

Zehris exhaled, amusement returning.

"Oh," he murmured. "Now this is a secret worth killing for."

Ethan agreed.

Because if this was a lost imperial city…

Then history wasn't just wrong.

It had been deliberately rewritten.

Ethan stepped forward carefully.

The ruins loomed above him, towering stone structures half-buried in sand. Worn-down columns stretched toward the sky, cracked by time and heat.

It looked like the imperial capital—only older.

Far, far older.

His pulse quickened.

What the hell is this place?

Zehris crouched near a fallen pillar, running a clawed hand across the engravings.

His silver eyes gleamed.

"This writing," he murmured. "It's ancient."

Ethan frowned. "Can you read it?"

Zehris smirked. "Of course."

A pause.

Then, softly—he began to translate.

> "Here stood the first throne. Here fell the first betrayal."

Ethan's stomach dropped.

That wasn't an empire inscription.

It was a warning.

They reached what had once been a massive palace.

Its entrance was still intact—a towering stone door, covered in runes.

And the moment Ethan laid eyes on it, his body tensed.

Because he recognized it.

Not from a map.

Not from imperial history.

But from a nightmare he didn't remember having.

The door was sealed shut.

But something deep in Ethan's gut told him that if he touched it—

It would open.

And nothing good would come from that.

Zehris watched him carefully.

"Something wrong?"

Ethan's throat was dry.

"…Yeah."

Zehris tilted his head. "What?"

Ethan exhaled, stepping back.

"This door," he murmured. "We're not supposed to open it."

A beat of silence.

Then Zehris grinned.

"Well," he said. "That just makes me want to open it more."

And before Ethan could stop him—

He pressed his hand against the stone.

A deep, thunderous crack echoed through the ruins.

The runes on the door blazed to life—brighter than fire, brighter than the sun.

And then—

The ground shook.

The air turned heavy.

And from the shadows behind them, something began to wake up.

Ethan's heart slammed against his ribs.

Oh. No.

Then, from the depths of the ruins—

Something screamed.

The scream ripped through the ruins.

Ethan felt it more than he heard it—a deep, unnatural sound that rattled in his bones.

The air grew heavy. The sand around them shivered.

And then—something stepped out of the darkness.

A figure. Towering, ancient, wrong.

It had once been human.

But now?

Now it was a corpse wrapped in power.

Ethan's breath caught.

The thing in front of them wasn't alive.

Yet it moved.

A body wrapped in decayed royal robes. Skin cracked like stone, but pulsing faintly with golden lines of energy.

A king, long dead, standing in front of his own tomb.

Its empty eyes locked onto Zehris.

"Unclean blood," it whispered. "Not fit to stand before the throne."

Then—it moved.

Faster than something that dead should have been able to move.

Zehris barely dodged the first strike. The king's hand shot forward, slamming into the ground where Zehris had been standing.

The stone cracked.

Dust and debris exploded outward.

Ethan staggered back, shielding his eyes.

Then—the king turned to him.

And Ethan knew.

It wasn't just after Zehris.

It saw him too.

And it wanted him dead.

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