Chapter 15 – Crownfire Unleashed
Crownless King: The Heir of the Forgotten Throne
Chapter 15 – Crownfire Unleashed
The moment Kael stepped out of the Cradle Vault, the sky fractured.
Clouds twisted.
Leylines snarled.
And the wind bent around his breath.
In his right hand: the First Flame, no longer dormant.
In his heart: a fire the Twelve buried centuries ago.
He didn't feel power.
He felt clarity.
And clarity was dangerous.
The guards never stood a chance.
The moment Kael crossed the threshold, runes shattered. Anti-magic fields caved. Shields melted at the edge of his aura.
Tarin followed behind, stunned.
"This isn't spellwork," he muttered. "It's rewriting the rules."
Seris didn't say a word.
She just watched Kael move.
Because he wasn't walking anymore.
He was advancing.
And the world moved around him.
They came for him in waves.
Guild elites. Augmented Sentinels. Even two Hollow Marchers, bound in red-chain armor.
They were fast.
They were lethal.
They were nothing.
Kael's first swing didn't leave a trail of flame—
It left a scar in the leyline.
The First Flame cut memory.
The Marchers paused mid-strike, their past unraveling in front of them. One screamed as he remembered the child he used to be. The other knelt, weeping, whispering a name lost for decades.
And when Kael whispered, "Rest," they turned to ash without pain.
Seris and Tarin cleared the outer halls. Kael ascended the main stair of Sanctum Prime alone.
At the summit: the Sanctum Eye, a floating ley-core housing the names of every Guild-ranked mage across the continent.
Kael raised the blade.
"Erase it."
The First Flame hummed.
A column of gold-white fire burst from the core of the relic. It didn't burn the Eye.
It unwrote it.
Millions of names vanished from the Twelve's registry in a single breath.
Across the continent, every mark, every brand, every tracking seal—gone.
The Crownless Became a Myth in Real Time.
Not whispered.
Not remembered.
Witnessed.
Panic surged through the citadel's inner chambers.
One of the Twelve slammed a fist on the control ring. "The ley-registries are crashing! Sanctum Prime is offline!"
Another: "We can't track the Crownless anymore!"
And then—
A voice older than the rest.
Sharper.
Colder.
"Begin the Leviathan Protocol."
"Sink the entire sanctum."
Sirens screamed.
Red light bathed the halls.
Ley-stabilizers detonated from within as the citadel began to fall—stone by stone, tower by tower.
Seris grabbed Kael's arm. "We need to get out—now."
Kael turned once, looking back at the crater where the Sanctum Eye once floated.
Then he nodded.
Together, they ran.
The moment they crossed the outer bridge, the central spire cracked in half—plunging into the abyss below.
They Didn't Speak Until the Sky Was Quiet Again.
Tarin was the first to exhale. "You just destroyed their biggest ley-center."
Kael didn't answer.
Seris stepped close, her voice lower now.
"Do you feel it?"
"The cost?"
Kael stared at the horizon.
His eyes flickered—not just with fire now, but memorylight.
"I feel everything."
And from far above, high in the broken stars, something stirred.
Beneath a frozen sea, bound in runes no human could read, a thing moved.
It was not a person.
It was not alive.
It was a weapon made of hunger.
And as Sanctum Prime fell, the bindings cracked.
A voice like thunder and weeping metal rose from the abyss:
"The Crownless… returns…"
"Then so… do I."
To be continued...