The forest beyond the Hollow Mirror had changed.
No longer a corrupted wasteland of illusions—it now pulsed with faint, awakened life. Flowers unfurled. Roots slithered beneath the dirt like old veins remembering how to flow.
> "You feel that?" Raik asked, walking beside Kaien. "Like the ground's… watching us."
> "It is," Kaien replied, his tone quiet, almost amused. "It remembers him."
Ahead, Adexander stood in silence beneath a dying tree, his gauntlet-clad hand pressed against its bark. The energy inside him—part memory, part madness—settled into something clearer.
Stronger.
Kaien approached. "You're not surprised."
> "You've always been part of me," Adexander answered. "Even when I buried you."
> "Why now?" Kaien tilted his head. "Why let me back in?"
> "Because I need more than power," Adexander said. "I need clarity. And rage alone won't build an empire."
Kaien smirked. "You speak like a king again."
Adexander turned, red eyes burning beneath his hood.
> "I am."
---
As they walked, a low, vibrating hum echoed through the trees. Igris raised a hand.
> "Scouts," he muttered.
Three shapes emerged ahead—tall, cloaked figures in bone-plated armor. Their faces were hidden behind ivory masks, cracked and aged. They wielded glaive-staffs etched with glowing sigils.
The one in front lowered his hood.
> "Crimson King."
The voice was reverent, but uncertain.
Adexander studied them. "You were part of the Order?"
> "What remains of it," the figure replied. "When you fell, the Seven Tribes turned on each other. Now… only fragments survive. We heard your echo in the Hollow Mirror. And we came."
Raik raised an eyebrow. "So you guys just… what? Saw a light show and decided to follow the nearest scary dude with glowing eyes?"
Kaien stepped forward, voice sharp.
> "You follow the Crimson King because he does not ask. He summons."
The scout knelt immediately. The others followed, planting their weapons into the earth.
> "Command us," the leader said. "Reforge the Court."
Adexander's gaze moved between them. He saw hesitation. Fear. But also… loyalty.
Igris stepped forward beside him. "Let them be the first."
Adexander raised a hand.
Crimson energy flared from his palm—silent lightning across a blood-red sky. It streaked through the forest, igniting the sigils of the scouts' armor. Their bodies shuddered, but did not collapse. Instead, they straightened—changed. Reforged.
> "You are no longer scraps of a broken order," Adexander declared. "You are Crimson Sentinels. The first blades of the new world."
Kaien chuckled softly. "Now that sounds like the King I remember."
---
That night, they camped at the edge of a valley—an ancient battlefield littered with shattered blades and half-buried skulls.
Raik sat by the fire, tossing a coin and catching it again.
> "So we're just gonna march across the continent and collect followers until we're strong enough to take back the world?"
> "Yes," Adexander said.
> "...Cool. Just checking."
Igris leaned against a boulder, arms crossed. "We'll need more than blades. We'll need alliances. And most of the noble clans think you're dead—or worse, a myth."
Kaien stretched his arms lazily. "Then we make them believe again."
Adexander turned to the valley below.
> "We start with the Gravehold Pact."
Raik blinked. "The what-now?"
> "A summit of warlords, beastmasters, and undead barons," Igris explained. "Five of the strongest remaining factions meet there every year. The last time they gathered…"
Kaien finished, voice grim.
> "They burned an entire city to make room."
Adexander's eyes glinted.
> "Good. Let them see the Crimson King rise beneath the ashes."