chapter 56 :The Throne of Ash and the Forgotten Prophecy

Everything was still.

No wind, no shadows, no pulse of life.

Only ash fell from a pale sky the color of rusted iron, covering the barren land as though this world had endured a thousand endings and forgotten how to begin again.

Shao stood alone before a corroded, colossal gate carved into black stone—its cracks exhaling faint smoke.

Inscribed upon it, in a language he had never learned, yet immediately understood:

*"Whoever treads this world has trampled truth beneath their feet."*

He raised his eyes to the sky and saw a sun that gave no warmth—only a shattering shadow, like fractured mirrors circling above.

*Oraklis…* the Seventh World.

It was never part of any prophecy, had never appeared on any map, and not even the gods themselves acknowledged its existence.

And here, exactly here, he was meant to be.

*"Is this the gods' trial?"* he murmured, brushing ash from his shoulder, making his way inward—where no compass pointed, and no path was drawn.

Everything was distorted, as if the world itself refused to remember its own name.

The trees weren't trees, but frozen skeletons locked in poses of forgotten deaths.

The rocks bled hot ash, as though the earth mourned something—or someone.

Then he heard the voice.

Not human. Not divine.

But the voice of the tale itself, told in broken tones:

*"Shao… of living bloodline, cast out from fate and thrust back into the path by the curse's force… This is the world revealed only to those betrayed by prophecy."*

He turned—but no one stood behind him.

The voice came from everything—earth, air, and his own blood.

He paused. His heart beat with something like fear laced with recognition.

He knew Oraklis was not a final trial—but the buried truth no one wished to uncover.

*"What is this curse? And why do I feel I've seen this place before… in a dream… or a past death?"*

Then he saw it.

In the heart of the gray desert—an enormous structure floating over nothing, with no foundation, a throne resting on air.

Upon the throne sat a glowing figure, cloaked in ash, its face unclear… as if it were Shao himself—but twisted.

He stepped forward slowly, his feet piercing through layers of ash like walking over the corpses of long-dead dreams.

With each step came memories… of an unspoken prophecy, a past battle yet to happen, a betrayal from within not yet committed.

*"Who are you?"* Shao cried out, directing the question to the figure atop the throne.

The figure lifted its head…

Its eyes were mirrors—and within them, Shao saw himself, in every stage—since the beginning of the journey to this moment.

*"I am the unwritten prophecy. I am the ending they chose to ignore… I am what you'll become when you stop fighting."*

Shao was silent.

For the first time in his quest, he had no reply.

And then the world began to fracture.

Oraklis was not stable—it was a living memory that crumbled once its truth was seen.

Everything trembled. Time itself recoiled.

He had to choose...

To learn the full truth—and lose himself.

Or leave now—and preserve his blissful ignorance.

But he was Shao.

The one who chose shadow over comfort.

So he stepped forward.