Chapter Thirty-Two: The Desert of Betrayal – Gates of Shadows

The sky had turned into solid ash—no stars in sight, no moon to offer comfort. Even the air groaned, as if burdened with the memories of the dead.

And upon the Throne of Shadows, where only the echoes of old decisions could be heard, sat Sajibro. His eyes were dim, but his mind was ablaze with visions of a past he never chose.

He saw faces from an era long erased... the ones who called themselves "Makers of the First Gate," those capable of opening dimensions.

He didn't truly remember them—he saw them like fragmented dreams right before waking.

Still, he knew that forming an alliance with them was not a choice... but a necessity.

But the armies that once chanted his name had fractured. The shadows that followed him became a cracked illusion.

If he wished to restore the dignity of the throne, he had to begin with someone who knew the art of war well.

Footsteps from afar pierced the silence of the throne.

The grand gate opened, its sound like ancient ice shattering.

The man who entered was no stranger... he was the First Commander—the unfailing blade and companion in bloodshed during the darkest nights.

But his eyes were different this time, as if he had fallen from a betrayal yet to be revealed.

"Sajibro…" He called him by name, not by title. His voice wavered between pleading and warning.

"I need your power, my lord... because what remains of us is not enough to save this world."

Their eyes met.

A moment of stillness.

As if time itself paused to witness the meeting.

The man bowed.

It wasn't a military gesture... but something closer to a confession, or a veiled plea.

Then he said:

"Raizen betrayed us. He allied with those who belong neither to light nor shadow. And they drained your power… After your absence, the army shattered. We are now trapped... between dimensions. And no one but you possesses what we need to escape."

Sajibro didn't respond immediately. He merely closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them onto a still-burning hell.

"Opening the First Gate…" he said in a low voice, "is not a summoning of power… but the release of ancient blood. I cannot do it alone… and I won't have it opened for a foolish price."

The commander said, his voice laced with concern:

"If we don't open it, this rift will swallow us forever. The Makers of the Gate will not grant us passage freely. They want something... something from you."

Sajibro remained silent, then rose from the throne.

Every step he took felt like a declaration of war.

"I know what they want… and they want me to know.

But if we desire this land, I will not knock on their doors like a slave.

I'll make them kneel… and present their gate to me as they would the heads of defeated foes."

The commander raised his head, his voice rough:

"I will be the first to cross with you… and I will pay the price, even if betrayal is the cost of passage. We need your power now more than ever."

Sajibro replied coldly, without hiding his disdain:

"Betrayal is nothing new… but it has become an art. And with it, we shall draw a path that cannot be erased."

Then he looked into the void, as if seeing the gate open before him:

"We will open it… not as a plea for survival, but as a declaration of invasion."

And in the moment those words were spoken, the hidden ground beneath the palace trembled.

And something… in the deepest layer of existence… awakened.

The First Gate had begun to respond…

But it opens only with blood,

And closes only with another betrayal.

End of Chapter Thirty-Two.