Realm Lord
Chapter 117: The King

Chapter 117: The King

Arthur and Aziel reached the same terrifying conclusion with the speed that came from bitter experience. This was their second encounter with such overwhelming malevolent presence, and the familiar crushing weight of an abomination’s aura left no room for doubt in their minds. The memory of their previous encounter—the desperate flight into the city, the termites’ inexplicable retreat—suddenly made perfect sense in the context of what they now faced.

For Kay and Lara, however, the realization came more slowly. Neither had ever encountered an abomination before, had never felt the soul-crushing pressure that emanated from such creatures like a physical force. But there was no mistaking that kind of raw, primal power once you experienced it. The terror that clawed at their minds, the way their very bones seemed to ache with dread—these were not reactions their bodies could fake or misinterpret.

Kay’s mouth trembled uncontrollably as the group finally managed to focus their vision on the chamber that lay before them, forcing themselves to look past the overwhelming fear that threatened to paralyze them completely. His voice came out as barely more than a whisper, broken and stuttering with terror.

"A-an A-abomination."

The throne room that spread out before their terrified and shaking forms was indeed grand, though it carried the same air of faded majesty that pervaded the rest of the castle. A rich red carpet, its color dimmed by age and dust but still recognizable as once having been magnificent, stretched in a straight line from where they stood to the massive stone throne that dominated the far end of the chamber.

The throne itself was a masterwork of ancient craftsmanship, carved from what appeared to be a single block of dark granite and adorned with intricate reliefs depicting scenes of royal power and divine authority. The high back of the throne was crowned with carved symbols of rulership—crossed swords, a crown, and other regalia that spoke of absolute power over a once-great kingdom.

The rest of the throne room was largely empty, its vast floor space uncluttered by furniture or decorative elements, creating an impressive sense of scale and grandeur. The walls, however, were richly decorated with tapestries and murals that had somehow survived the centuries, their colors faded but still telling the story of a realm that had once been prosperous and powerful.

And upon that ancient throne sat the source of their terror—a figure that had once been a king but was now something far more terrible. The creature wore robes that had clearly once been magnificent examples of royal finery, constructed from the finest silks and decorated with gold thread and precious gems. But time and corruption had taken their toll, leaving the garments aged and ragged, hanging loosely on a frame that seemed somehow both substantial and insubstantial at the same time.

Most disturbing of all was the mask that covered the figure’s face—the same sun-shaped golden mask with its serene human features that they had seen depicted in countless paintings throughout the castle. But here, in person, the mask seemed twisted and wrong, as though the corruption within had somehow tainted even this external symbol.

The king sat with its elbow placed casually on the armrest of the throne, its masked head leaning against its fist in a pose that suggested patient waiting. There was something almost casual about the posture, as if the creature had been sitting there for years, decades, perhaps even centuries, simply waiting for this moment to arrive.

Arthur and the rest of the group stared in a mixture of awe and pure, undiluted terror. The pieces of the puzzle they had been unconsciously assembling finally clicked into place with horrible clarity.

"The king," Arthur spoke aloud, his voice barely above a whisper as the full implications of what they were seeing crashed over him like a wave.

The story wrote itself in his mind with devastating simplicity. The king of this castle had fought against death, had struggled against the corruption that the void creatures promised to bring to his realm. But instead of achieving victory, he had been controlled by that very corruption, twisted and transformed by the dark forces he had sought to resist. Years—perhaps centuries—of being eternally bound to the throne of his dead kingdom had gradually transformed him from a noble ruler into something far more sinister.

The isolation, the weight of watching his realm die around him while being powerless to stop it, being corrupted by the void—all of it had combined to create the perfect conditions for the birth of an abomination. The king had become the very thing he had once fought against, a living embodiment of despair and malevolent power.

The rest of the group stared in abject terror for long moments, their minds racing as they considered every possible way out of their current predicament. But it didn’t take much time for them all to arrive at the same devastating realization. The timing was too perfect to be coincidental—the locked door opening to them only after the last sheepman had been defeated, the spell still not being broken despite their apparent victory over all the castle’s guardians.

The king was the final totem. The last piece of the magical construct that held them prisoner in this cursed place. If they wanted to escape, if they wanted to return home, they would have to fight and defeat an abomination.

Lara’s teeth chattered audibly as she spoke, her voice filled with disbelief and mounting hysteria. "T-that’s not possible. According to everything we know about this realm’s magical systems, the magic couldn’t make living creatures into totems."

Arthur let out a grim chuckle that held no humor whatsoever, the sound echoing hollowly in the vast throne room. "Well... looks like you guys didn’t know enough, and this castle had one hell of a magic user."

The implications were staggering. Someone with incredible magical power and knowledge had been involved in the creation of this prison—someone capable of bending the fundamental rules of magic to achieve something that should have been impossible. The spell that bound them here was far more sophisticated and dangerous than any of them had imagined.

Lara let out a sharp breath, her voice barely more than an exhale. "Unbelievable."

Kay’s response was a high-pitched giggle that bordered on hysteria, his fear manifesting as manic laughter as he stared at the corrupted monarch before them. The sound was unsettling in the oppressive atmosphere of the throne room, carrying undertones of barely contained panic.

"W-we aren’t really going to have to kill that thing, are we?" he asked, though he already knew the answer. His desperate hope for some alternative, some way around the impossible task before them, was evident in every word.

He looked to Lara for reassurance, for some indication that there might be another way. But she didn’t give him words—instead, she gave him a look that answered his already-answered question with brutal honesty. There was no other way. There never had been.

Kay spoke again, his voice rising with panic. "How the hell are four chosen supposed to beat an abomination? Is that even possible?"

The question hung in the air like a death sentence. The idea that four chosen, no matter how skilled or determined, could stand against such a force seemed beyond the realm of possibility.

Grim silence settled over the group like a funeral shroud. The weight of their situation pressed down on them, threatening to crush their spirits entirely. But then, unexpectedly, lightning began to sparkle and dance in the air beside them, crackling energy that drew their attention to Aziel.

He had summoned his spear and was holding it with steady hands, but it was the expression on his face that truly caught their attention. There was something almost... unique about his look—a combination of fear and determination. As he took a tentative step forward toward the throne room’s entrance, his voice carried a note of what could almost be described as excitement.

"Well... we’re about to find out!"

Arthur and the rest looked at Aziel in a mixture of amazement and concern. Did he actually seem excited about the prospect of facing an abomination? There was something in his eyes, a wild gleam that suggested he viewed this impossible challenge not as a death sentence, but as the ultimate test of his abilities.

Next was Lara, who summoned her twin blades with grim determination and followed Aziel’s lead. Her movements were controlled and purposeful, showing that she had accepted their fate and was ready to face it head-on, regardless of the odds against them.

Arthur looked down at the ground for a long moment, gathering his thoughts and steeling his resolve. When he looked back up at Aziel and Lara, who were already crossing the threshold into the throne room, a phrase echoed in his mind.

’The way to strength is a path of pain and fire.’

The thought resonated within him, reminding him that true growth only came through facing impossible challenges, through pushing beyond the limits of what seemed possible. This battle might kill them all, but if they somehow survived, they would emerge stronger than they had ever been before.

He steeled his nerves and followed his companions into the chamber of their final trial.

Kay looked at the rest of them like they had completely lost their minds, his expression a mixture of disbelief and terror. For a moment, he seemed frozen in place, unable to comprehend how his companions could willingly walk into such obvious doom. Then he face-palmed with enough force to leave a mark, took one deep, shuddering breath to steady himself, and followed them into the throne room.

"This is insane," he muttered under his breath, but his feet carried him forward nonetheless.

The final confrontation was about to begin.