Chapter 567: The Battle at the Weeping Isles Begins
"When history forgets you, make sure it remembers your vengeance."
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The first glimpse of the Weeping Isles was enough to chill even the bravest heart.
Jagged rocks jutted out from the angry sea like the ribs of a giant corpse. Mist coiled over the broken cliffs, swallowing sound and light. Ghostly figures—statues of warriors who had failed before—lined the approach, their cracked faces frozen in silent screams.
Jayden Ochieng stood at the prow of the lead boat, the wind slashing against his face.
Behind him, the ships of his newfound allies cut through the black waters like wolves through a dying flock.
Matilda leaned close. "You sure about this?"
Jayden's gaze didn't waver. "They called me. I'm answering."
Sera tightened the leather straps around her arms. "Let's make sure they regret it."
Lightning tore open the sky again, illuminating a sight that made even the most hardened warriors aboard gasp.
At the highest peak of the island stood the Silent Monarchs—cloaked in shadow and power—waiting.
Their thrones were carved from the bones of extinct beasts.
Their banners were stitched with the skins of traitors.
The Monarchs had come for judgment.
And Jayden Ochieng would give it to them.
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The boats slammed into the shallow shores, scraping rock and sand. Warriors leapt into the icy water, weapons drawn.
As soon as Jayden set foot on the shore, the ground itself shuddered.
From the mist emerged the Monarchs' champions—creatures and humans twisted beyond recognition, each more terrifying than the last.
A horn, deep and ancient, bellowed across the battlefield.
The Silent Monarchs would not fight directly—not yet. Instead, they would send their armies of horrors to weaken Jayden before delivering the final blow.
Jayden's forces clashed with the enemy in a brutal frenzy. The air became thick with screams, steel, and magic.
Tielen tore through enemy ranks like a storm, wielding twin daggers that blurred in the mist.
Linet conjured walls of fire, forcing the monstrous champions back.
Wendy led an elite squad, cutting a path toward the central cliffs where the Monarchs sat.
Matilda fought at Jayden's side, covering his flanks without a word.
Sera danced through the battle like a phantom, her blade singing death.
And Jayden—Jayden was unstoppable.
Every time he swung his blade, the air cracked with ancestral power. Every strike echoed with the rage of forgotten generations.
Still, for every enemy they felled, two more seemed to rise.
They needed to reach the summit before they were overwhelmed.
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With a howl, Jayden led the charge up the cliffs, the path a gauntlet of death.
Traps hidden in the rocks sprang to life—spikes, poison darts, collapsing ledges—but Jayden's instincts, sharpened beyond mortal limits, guided him.
The closer they got, the stronger the pressure grew.
It felt like the sky itself was trying to crush them.
Jayden's tattoos blazed with light, warding off the crushing weight.
At the halfway point, a monstrous figure blocked their path—a warrior clad in blackened armor, his sword as wide as a man's chest.
The Gravedancer—one of the Silent Monarchs' most feared executioners.
Jayden stepped forward alone.
"No distractions," he said. "Go."
The others hesitated—but obeyed, carving a path upward while Jayden faced the titan.
Their swords met with a sound like shattering mountains.
The Gravedancer fought with brutal efficiency, every swing aiming to end Jayden with one blow.
But Jayden wasn't the boy who had hidden his power anymore.
He was Ochieng.
The Hidden Lion.
With a roar that split the mist, Jayden parried a crushing blow and, moving faster than the eye could follow, drove his sword through a gap in the Gravedancer's armor—straight into the executioner's heart.
The titan stumbled, fell, and did not rise again.
Jayden didn't wait to savor the victory.
He sprinted up the remaining path—toward destiny.
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At last, they reached the summit.
The Silent Monarchs sat in a perfect semicircle, their expressions hidden behind jeweled masks.
Velora the Silent, the High Monarch, rose first.
Her voice was soft, but it carried like thunder.
"Jayden Ochieng. You stand where your ancestors fell."
He didn't flinch. "And I will stand where you fall."
The Monarchs chuckled—low, cruel, knowing.
Velora tilted her head. "Do you know why we summoned you?"
Jayden tightened his grip on his sword. "To kill me. To kill the bloodline you failed to erase."
Velora's laughter was sweet and poisonous. "No.
We summoned you to choose."
She waved a delicate hand—and suddenly, the mist parted, revealing a throne made of twisted iron and screaming souls.
"The Throne of the Forgotten," she said. "Yours by bloodright."
The Monarchs offered him a choice:
Kneel, and inherit the throne as one of them.
Or resist, and be destroyed.
Jayden's heart thundered in his chest.
Behind him, his allies waited, ready to die for him.
Ahead, the throne called to his blood.
Every fiber of his being knew this was a moment that would echo through history.
He smiled—a slow, dangerous smile.
"I didn't come to kneel," Jayden said.
He raised his sword.
"I came to tear your world apart."
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