The summit was held atop the Floating Spire of Veyla, a legendary citadel suspended above the Endless Gulf by ancient, forgotten technologies. The world had changed too quickly, and now, it threatened to collapse under the weight of its revelations — from Drax's inferno to the awakening of the Hollow Throne and the return of old gods. With destruction looming, every ruler, warlord, and high commander still standing was summoned for a final, desperate gathering.
And Raizen walked among them.
Dressed not as a pirate, nor a rebel, but as something more — a leader forged in war, shadowed by betrayal, and burdened by fate. His coat bore the sigil of the shattered crown, not in defiance, but in warning. By his side were Zuri, Kaito, Jin, and now even Kael — the former traitor watched closely by all.
The chamber was vast, circular, and alive with tension. Banners from kingdoms long at war now fluttered beside each other. Rulers eyed one another through veils of suspicion, generals whispered threats behind ornate fans, and advisors wrote new alliances in invisible ink.
"So this is what peace looks like," Kaito muttered. "A snake pit in a golden cage."
Raizen remained silent as they took their place at the central platform, where thirteen obsidian thrones stood unoccupied. But one by one, they arrived.
— The Empress of Solara, veiled in phoenix silk, eyes like burning gems.— The Tyrant-King of Dren, who had once ordered Raizen's death.— The Iron Matriarch of the North, a warlord whose blade had never dulled.— The Speaker of the Deep Clans, whose people still remembered gods as ancestors.— The Neutral Scribe, representative of the ancient Archivists.— And many others, some unrecognizable, others thought long dead.
At last, a low chime echoed through the air — not sound, but a vibration in the bones. Then came the final faction. Cloaked in silver-blue robes, faces hidden behind mirrored masks, they took the highest seats with wordless precision.
The Celestial Court had arrived.
A name spoken only in myths and suppressed histories. According to legend, they were the true architects of the world — the ones who placed kings on thrones, started wars to manage balance, and manipulated the rise and fall of empires across the seas.
Raizen's breath stilled.
Kael leaned close, his voice a whisper. "Now you see. The Crown of Shadows was never the top of the chain. It was their leash — forged for gods, wielded by puppets."
A voice rang out across the summit, calm and layered with unnatural harmony. One of the masked members of the Celestial Court stood.
"You are all here because the world nears its edge. Your petty wars, your gods, your rebellions… they were allowed to shape history. But now, the equation fails."
Raizen stepped forward, fists clenched. "You speak of fate like you own it. How long have you ruled from the shadows?"
Another Court member replied. "Since before language. Before flame. Before the fall of the first star. We were there when the Hollow Throne was carved from the bones of the sky."
Gasps. Even among the rulers, this was heresy and revelation.
The Empress of Solara narrowed her eyes. "Then why reveal yourselves now?"
The Court answered as one. "Because something older than us stirs. A force we cannot contain — one your bloodline, Raizen, was designed to oppose."
That word echoed.
Designed.
"So I was born for this?" Raizen snapped. "Another piece on your board?"
"You are the blade… and the wound," the Court said. "What comes next will not be decided by kings or crowns — but by whether you choose to break the cycle, or become it."
The room erupted. Arguments, accusations, desperate treaties whispered between former enemies. Some demanded war against the Court. Others offered their allegiance, hungry for the power behind the veil.
Raizen looked around — at the rulers, the generals, the schemers. And then at his own crew, fractured but still standing.
He saw what the Court feared.
Unity.
Not of nations, but of will.
He stepped up onto the dais, uninvited. "If what you say is true… then we're all pawns. But pawns can rise. Pawns can burn the board. And if you've brought us here thinking we'll bow, think again."
A murmur of rebellion swept the chamber. Some eyes lit with hope. Others with rage.
And above them all, the Celestial Court remained still — unreadable, unknowable.
But now, they had names. Faces, even if masked. And Raizen had made his declaration.
The gathering of kings had begun.
But by its end, only one truth would remain:
The old world was dying.
And something far greater was about to rise.
END OF THE CHAPTER7