Chapter 27: The Defiant King

 

The silence in the Ancestral Tomb was heavier than the glacier above them. The words on the skin-scroll seemed to burn into the air: One must cease to exist so the other may become God.

Scarlett’s hands trembled. The prophecy wasn't a riddle; it was a death sentence. The universe was demanding a balance for her transmigration, and the price was the soul of the man she loved.

“So this is the great secret,” Caleb whispered. His voice was terrifyingly calm, but the air around him began to distort with heat. “My ancestors didn't leave me a kingdom. They left me a slaughterhouse.”

He snatched the scroll from Scarlett’s hands. Before she could stop him, his hand ignited with a silver-white flame—the fire of the Alpha’s core. The ancient skin curled and blackened, turning to ash in seconds.

“Caleb! That was the only record—”

“It was a lie,” Caleb snarled, turning to her. His golden eyes were blazing with a ferocity that made him look less like a man and more like a deity of war. “They want a sacrifice? I refuse. If the world demands one of us to die, then I will burn the world down and build a new one where we both live.”

He grabbed her shoulders, his grip bruising in its intensity. “We are not playing by their rules anymore, Scarlett. We are writing our own.”

Suddenly, the entire glacier shuddered violently. Dust and ice chips rained down from the ceiling. A deep, mechanical roar echoed from outside the obsidian doors, followed by a voice that had haunted Scarlett’s nightmares since the skyscraper fell.

“Burn it down? How poetic, Your Majesty.”

Scarlett’s blood ran cold. “Julian.”

The obsidian doors, which had stood for a thousand years, began to crack. A massive, purple laser—concentrated Void energy—sliced through the stone like butter. The doors exploded inward, sending shards of black rock flying across the tomb.

Through the smoke, a figure stepped in. It was Julian Thorne, but he was no longer human. half of his face was covered in a sleek, black metal mask fused to his skull. His right arm had been replaced by a pulsating claw of void-construct, and behind him stood an army of Void-Soldiers—men and wolves twisted into mindless killing machines.

“I told you, Caleb,” Julian’s voice was a metallic rasp, amplified by the mask. “You can drop me from a building, but you can’t kill what is already dead. The Order of the Black Sun remade me. Better. Stronger. And very, very angry.”

He raised his void-claw, pointing it at Scarlett. “Hand over the Witch. The Master needs her soul to open the final gate. Do that, and I might let your pathetic little pack live as slaves.”

Caleb didn't speak. He simply stepped in front of Scarlett, his body shielding her completely. He reached out, and the Stellar Navigator on the floor flew into his hand. He tossed it to Scarlett without looking back.

“Run,” Caleb commanded softly.

“What?” Scarlett gasped.

“There is a hidden passage behind the First King’s dais. It leads to the Forbidden Coast,” Caleb said, his muscles coiling as the silver wolf shadow manifested around him, larger and more solid than ever before. “Go. Find the origin. I will hold them here.”

“I am not leaving you!” Scarlett screamed, her spiritual energy flaring.

“You are not leaving me,” Caleb corrected, turning his head slightly to give her a dark, heartbreaking smile. “You are preparing our future. Go, Scarlett! That is a command from your King!”

Before she could argue, Caleb launched himself at the incoming army.

It wasn't a fight; it was a collision of natural disasters. Caleb moved with a speed that defied physics, his claws tearing through the Void-Soldiers’ armor like paper. He was a whirlwind of silver death, holding the narrow entrance of the tomb against a tide of darkness.

Scarlett watched him for one agonizing second. She saw Julian lunging at him, the void-claw clashing with Caleb’s silver aura in a shower of sparks. She knew that if she stayed, she would only be a distraction. Caleb was fighting to buy her time.

Gritting her teeth until she tasted blood, Scarlett turned and sprinted toward the dais. She found the hidden mechanism—a wolf’s paw print—and pressed her hand against it. A section of the ice wall slid open, revealing a dark, winding tunnel that smelled of salt and ancient decay.

She looked back one last time. Caleb was surrounded, bleeding from a dozen wounds, but he was laughing—a wild, feral sound of pure defiance.

“Come and get me, you metal abomination!” Caleb roared, decapitating a Void-Soldier with a single swipe.

“I will come back for you,” Scarlett vowed, tears freezing on her cheeks. “I will tear the heavens apart if I have to.”

She plunged into the darkness of the tunnel.

As she ran, the Stellar Navigator in her hand began to glow with a frantic, pulsing light. It wasn't pointing North anymore. It was pointing down—deep into the earth, toward a power source that felt terrifyingly familiar.

The tunnel opened up into a massive underground cavern. And there, floating in the center of a subterranean lake, was a ship. Not a wooden ship of the Lycans, but a sleek, metal starship—broken, ancient, and unmistakably from her original world.

The inscription on the hull was in modern English, faded but legible: PROJECT: PROMETHEUS.

Scarlett stopped dead in her tracks. The "Ancient Ancestors" weren't gods. They weren't even from this planet. They were explorers. Travelers. Humans.

The Blackwood line wasn't just a magical bloodline. It was a genetic experiment.

“So that’s the secret,” Scarlett whispered, the horror and awe crashing over her. “We didn't just cross worlds. We crashed into one.”

And if this ship still had power, it wasn't just a tomb. It was a weapon. A weapon she could use to save Caleb.