The Ashen Plains were silent.
The Beast Tide was gone, the Alpha slain, the ash-stained wind carrying only the smell of blood and scorched earth.
But the silence wasn't victory.
It was warning.
Lian stood over the cracked spire, the third Forbidden Core still pulsing faintly in his hand.
Its power bled into him in steady waves, hotter than fire, colder than the void, a strength that made the world seem… fragile.
He had taken it.
But at what cost?
The Oracle approached cautiously. Her staff glimmered faint gold in the dying light, eyes fixed on the cracks still glowing across Lian's arms.
"You've pushed too far," she said softly. "Three Cores? That much power doesn't come without a price."
Lian didn't answer.
Because deep in his chest, the Tyrant's Heart pulsed faster, stronger.
He could feel its hunger now.
It didn't want to stop at three.
The Core King finally emerged from the smoke, dragging his blade behind him.
Dozens of beasts lay dead where he had passed, and yet the man looked… unshaken.
His gaze landed on the Core in Lian's hand.
"You've taken another," he said simply.
It wasn't a question.
Before Lian could reply, the Oracle stiffened.
Her eyes shifted toward the horizon.
"No…" she whispered.
Because shadows moved there.
Not beasts.
Not the wind.
Men.
The first of them came into view as the sun slid below the clouds, torches burning along their ranks.
Dozens at first. Then hundreds.
Armored riders, banners stitched with silver sigils that caught the dying light.
And at their head—
Kael.
Lian felt the air tighten in his chest.
The last time he had seen his brother was on the night of fire and betrayal.
Kael had stood at the center of the burning throne room, sword dripping with the blood of men who had once bowed to them both.
It had been Kael who gave the order that ended Lian's first life.
Now he rode at the front of this army, eyes like cold iron, cloak black as midnight.
The Oracle leaned toward Lian.
"Those are no ordinary soldiers," she murmured. "Core Hunters. The Ashen Vanguard. Mercenaries who kill tyrants and beasts alike… if the price is right."
Lian didn't need her warning.
He could feel the power burning in their ranks.
Each Hunter carried fragments of fallen stars worked into weapons, armor, or flesh.
Living conduits of celestial power.
Some were faint, dim sparks.
Others burned so bright his Tyrant's Heart snarled at them like rivals.
Kael halted just outside the spire's shadow.
His voice carried across the plains.
"Little brother."
The words were almost gentle.
Almost.
Lian said nothing.
The Oracle shifted nervously at his side.
The Core King didn't move at all, eyes unreadable as Kael's army spread in a dark crescent around the ruins.
Kael dismounted slowly, every motion precise.
"You've changed," he said, gaze flicking to the glowing cracks running across Lian's arms. "Three Cores, isn't it? I felt the second fall. Then the third."
His smile was thin, sharp as glass.
"Do you even know what you're holding?"
Lian tightened his grip on the Core.
"You killed me," he said quietly.
The words weren't loud, but the Oracle flinched at the weight in them.
Kael's smile didn't falter.
"You were in the way."
Silence fell like a blade between them.
The Vanguard's torches burned against the night wind.
Somewhere in the dark, a lone starbeast gave a dying scream and fell silent again.
The Oracle leaned close to Lian, voice urgent.
"They didn't come for you," she whispered. "They came for the Cores. Your brother wants them all."
But Kael heard her.
His gaze shifted toward the Oracle briefly, then back to Lian.
"She's half-right," he said calmly. "The Nine Cores belong to no man. They are power itself. And you…"
His eyes sharpened.
"…you're burning alive trying to hold them."
For the first time since Lian had awakened in this new world, doubt crawled up his spine.
Because Kael was right.
The Tyrant's Heart was power—too much power.
Already he felt its edges fraying against his flesh, every Core feeding it like a furnace with no walls.
How many more could he take before it consumed him whole?
But there was no room for weakness now.
Kael's army was spreading wider, cutting off the ruins from all sides.
The Vanguard's weapons glimmered faint silver under the torchlight. Some were forged from meteor-iron. Others pulsed with captured fragments, cores chained in steel like living prisoners.
And at Kael's side stood six figures cloaked in black.
The Oracle paled when she saw them.
"The Hunters' Six," she whispered. "Kael's chosen. Each one a Core wielder in their own right."
Kael finally drew his sword.
The same sword Lian had seen in the burning throne room the night everything ended.
"Walk away, brother," Kael said softly. "Give me the Cores before they eat you alive. Before they turn you into the thing you killed tonight."
Lian didn't move.
The Tyrant's Heart was roaring inside him now, each pulse daring him to fight, to burn, to rise higher no matter the cost.
The Core King finally spoke, voice cold as the ash beneath them.
"They'll attack soon."
He glanced at Lian.
"You aren't ready for this battle."
But Lian's grip tightened on his blade.
"No," he said quietly.
His eyes never left Kael's.
"This time, I don't run."
The Oracle swore under her breath.
The Hunters began to move, silver weapons lifting as the night wind howled across the plains.
And somewhere far above, as the first stars pierced the clouds, the Nine Tyrants watched from the dark between worlds.
Waiting.