The ruins burned behind them.
Lian didn't look back.
Every step away from the shattered temple felt heavier than the last, as if the two Forbidden Cores fused in his chest weighed more than mountains. The cracks of light along his arms still glimmered faintly beneath his skin, crawling like veins of fire that refused to heal.
The Oracle walked at his side, hood pulled low. She hadn't spoken since the temple fell.
The Core King trailed behind them, silent as ever. But Lian could feel his gaze. Cold. Measuring.
They camped on the edge of the old riverbed that night.
The fire hissed against the wind.
Lian sat apart from the others, staring at his hands.
Two hearts pulsed beneath his ribs now. Two tyrants whispering in the same tongue.
More power, one voice murmured.
Break the next chain, the other hissed.
The whispers bled together until he couldn't tell which was which anymore.
The Oracle finally broke the silence.
"Your body isn't ready," she said softly, eyes glinting gold across the fire. "The power will eat through you faster with each Core you take."
Lian didn't answer.
Because she was right.
Even now, he could feel it—the Cores weren't just burning him. They were shaping him. Something in his blood screamed that every evolution pushed him closer to something… less human.
Something older.
Something hungry.
The Core King finally spoke, voice low like stone grinding on stone.
"We head south at dawn," he said. "The third Forbidden Core lies beyond the Ashen Plains."
He paused, gaze flicking toward Lian. "But something will come for you first. They always do when a Tyrant rises."
That night, Lian dreamt of chains.
A sky wrapped in iron.
Nine Thrones burning beneath it.
And something vast moving in the dark between the stars… watching.
They left at first light.
The riverbed gave way to broken hills and wind-scoured plains, the kind of land where nothing living stayed long.
But by midday, Lian felt it.
A presence.
It stalked the edges of his senses like a storm waiting to break.
The Core King felt it too. His hand never left the hilt of his blade.
The Oracle's voice came soft, almost swallowed by the wind.
"A Tyrant Beast," she murmured. "One of the old guardians. It's hunting the Cores you carry."
Lian's grip tightened on his weapon.
"Another guardian like in the temple?"
Her eyes met his.
"No," she said. "Stronger. Older. Those things were dogs chained to gates. This one devoured kings before the first empires burned."
The wind died.
Silence fell across the plains like a held breath.
And then it came.
The earth cracked open in the distance as something climbed from the ravine.
At first, Lian thought it was the shadow of a mountain moving.
Then he saw the eyes.
Six of them, burning gold through the dust.
The thing that rose from the earth wasn't flesh or stone alone—it was both, a towering beast of black crystal and molten veins, its body moving like a landslide given hunger and rage.
When it roared, the hills themselves cracked.
The Oracle whispered one word like a curse.
"Dreadmaw."
It came for Lian like the world ending.
The first step shook the ground hard enough to drop him to one knee.
The second shattered the ridge where they'd stood moments ago.
The Core King met its charge head-on, blade flashing arcs of steel against the creature's limbs. Sparks rained where metal met crystal-hide, but even his strength barely slowed it.
The Tyrant's Heart surged inside Lian's chest.
Break it, it roared. This beast bleeds power. TAKE IT.
Lian moved before he could think, the Heart's strength exploding through his veins like wildfire.
One moment he was on the ridge.
The next he was there, blade burying itself in Dreadmaw's shoulder hard enough to crack the crystal plating.
The beast bellowed, molten blood spraying across the rocks as it swung claws the size of trees.
The blow caught Lian mid-air.
Pain lit his ribs on fire as he crashed through stone.
He coughed blood, vision swimming.
The second Core inside him laughed, wild and hungry.
More. More. Tear it apart. You are the throne.
The Oracle's runes flashed like falling stars across the battlefield, each sigil exploding against the beast's hide in bursts of fire and ice. But Dreadmaw plowed through the magic like it was wind-blown dust, jaws snapping shut on empty air where she'd stood seconds before.
The Core King struck its legs, its chest, its throat, each blow carving molten streaks across its armor—but the thing refused to fall.
The Tyrant's Heart screamed inside Lian's bones now, demanding release.
He felt the second Core feeding it, power spilling through his veins until his vision ran white at the edges.
He couldn't control it.
Didn't want to.
Lian launched himself off the shattered ridge, the Heart exploding through every muscle like lightning.
He hit Dreadmaw's chest in a blur of steel and fury.
Once. Twice. Again.
Each strike drove deeper, cracks spiderwebbing across crystal armor as molten blood fountained.
The beast roared and fell, slamming him into the earth as they crashed together in a storm of stone and fire.
When the dust cleared, Dreadmaw lay still.
Its chest was torn open, molten veins fading to black.
Lian stood over it, breath ragged, hands shaking from power that hadn't fully left him.
The cracks of light along his arms were worse now, running up his neck, his jaw.
Like the Cores were carving him apart from the inside.
The Oracle approached slowly, her voice tight.
"You're changing," she said. "Too fast. Too far."
Lian looked at his reflection in the creature's cooling blood.
For a moment… he swore the eyes staring back weren't his.
The Core King cleaned his blade, gaze on the fallen Tyrant Beast.
"Three Cores will break you," he said simply. "Or crown you."
Then he turned south again.
Because more waited.
Always more.