Arthur 3 The War Of Two Worlds Novels & Stories

"To Mavric: If you have reached this place, it means you have proven your love is greater than your fear. Liora will not die. That was Arthur's lie to manipulate her. 'The Third Archive' is not technology... it is proof of Arthur's treason against your country. And Liora... is the rightful heir to all the Thorne shares stolen by Arthur." Arthur's eyes widened in shock. "What?! Sofia... you tricked me?!" Suddenly, the sound of explosions echoed from beneath the fortress. Arthur had activated a self-destruct protocol if the gate was opened. "If I cannot have you, no one can!" Arthur screamed as he pressed the final trigger. END OF CHAPTER 117.

I murmured. ​"In your dreams, Malakai," she replied, already moving past me with her weapon drawn. ​We descended into a room that felt like the inside of a computer. The walls were lined with racks of humming servers, their cooling fans creating a low-frequency drone that vibrated in my teeth. The air was dry and smelled of ozone and scorched copper. ​At the center of the room, surrounded by a semi-circle of glowing monitors, sat Arthur. He looked like he was made of yellowed parchment and nicotine, his frame skeletal, his eyes magnified to grotesque proportions behind thick, coke-bottle glasses.

Their weapons—blessed steel, enchanted stones, ancient runes—clashed against the sorcery of the Elders, whose bodies twisted and warped into terrifying avatars of flame and void. Arthur moved through the chaos like a ghost reborn, his voice returned but unused. There was no need. His blade, now infused with the final spark of the Ember Sigil, sang louder than words. Each step he took was deliberate, cutting through shadows and flame, shielding the weak, drawing nearer to the chamber where Cathros awaited his final end.

Arthur skidded to a stop, growling so deeply the ground shook. “What is that?” I cried. The Sovereign’s voice echoed calmly. “Trial Two: The Choice.” Arthur’s snarl cut through the chamber. “Move,” he ordered the creature. It didn’t. The Sovereign lifted his hand. And the creature split into two. One stayed between Arthur and me. The other flickered behind me—its fingers resting lightly on my throat. Arthur stiffened. “Touch her,” he growled, “and I will rip you apart atom by atom.”

In her place was only a fine, grey dust on the floorboards. But the silence was short-lived. A new sound began to rise from the cliffs outside—the sound of sirens. Not the Regency’s sirens. International Peacekeeping forces. Dante looked at the window, then back at me. A slow, terrifying smile spread across his face. "Arthur called them," Dante whispered. "He knew he couldn't win. He’s going to let them take us both. He’s going to let the world see what we are." Arthur stood up, his face a mask of tragic, senile triumph. He wasn't looking at the sirens; he was looking at the remote in his other hand—a second, smaller device.

instincts warring with the sight of this child-version of his father. "Arthur?" Leo asked, his voice dripping with suspicion. "Is this another simulation? Another test to see if I’ll kill the child to save the man?" "I am the Unwanted Version," the child-Arthur said, his lip trembling. "I am the part of Arthur Thorne that wanted to be an artist. The part that liked the 'Noise.' The Grand Director deleted me when he was six years old so he could become the Architect. I’ve been hiding here for a century, eating the scraps of your regret."