Chapter 69 : Number Two of Hearts

The coffin creaked.

A slow, haunting groan echoed through the ruined throne room as the lid began to shift.

Zarion in the air twisted violently, like reality itself recoiled.

Pressure built.

Not metaphorical. Physical.

Like the air above them had turned to stone and was pushing down.

Their lungs tightened. Knees buckled. Even the walls of the castle—this ancient, devil-forged monument—quivered beneath the weight.

Something inside that coffin was wrong.

Something that didn't belong in this world.

The first thing to emerge was a hand.

Pale.

Long-fingered.

Smooth as porcelain, yet carrying the unmistakable aura of death.

A noble's hand, resting lazily on the edge of the coffin as if waking from a nap.

Then he rose.

The man—or rather, the creature—stepped into the air like it was solid ground.

He was tall. Effortlessly elegant.