Crown Of The Kobold King の小説・ストーリー

“Two days ago, Alexander personally took her to a private jeweler. Measurements, design consultations—he stayed the entire time.” My heart clenched. “There’s more,” Ethan continued. “And it gets worse.” “I accessed her private cloud. Password was Alexander’s birthday.” Inside were photos. Hundreds of them. I opened the file he sent. The album was titled: My Knight. The most recent post was dated two days ago. He said this crown belongs only to me. Just like him. Next week’s family dinner—he promised to give me a name. The image showed an exquisite bridal crown— diamonds and sapphires set in a constellation pattern.

The crown on his head pulsed erratically, veins of dark energy cracking across its surface like lightning trapped in metal. Korran turned toward me, his eyes burning with fury and something else—fear. “You should have stayed hidden, Jacob,” he growled, though his voice lacked its usual certainty. “You cannot comprehend what you are interfering with.” “I understand enough,” I shot back, circling him carefully. “That thing is killing you. And I’m going to make sure it finishes the job.” Before he could respond, the crown flared violently. The surge of energy that erupted from it was unlike anything I had felt before. It wasn’t controlled power; it was raw, chaotic shadow spilling outward in a

Every kill necessary. Still—it wasn’t enough. The sky darkened unnaturally, clouds spiraling as if dragged by an unseen hand. The earth groaned, fissures splitting open and bleeding shadow. He’s here. I felt him before I saw him—the pressure, the wrongness, the way the world recoiled as if in pain. The Evil King emerged from the storm like a wound in reality. Tall. Cloaked in writhing darkness. His crown was not metal but bone and shadow fused together, pulsing with stolen power. His eyes locked onto mine across the field, and the air screamed.

It pressed and knot itself, forming and deforming at each second that passed, until with a pop, the blood transformed into a tangible object, which could be worn only by the king: a crown. It was hailed with black linings that were dancing in its curves and edges; there was also a red, minuscule ruby glinting at each black lining. With a last whisper, the priest grabbed the crown. He hurriedly put it over Vladimir’s head who crouched a little with its weight. He’s in awe as he felt the heaviness of such a small thing. “All hail to King Vladimir,” the priest shouted. The common vampires and the witnesses echoed his words.

The thing climbing out of Queen Amara’s grave wore a crown made of bone and gold. At first, that was all I could understand. Not its face. Not its body. Not the shape of whatever ancient horror was dragging itself from the split tomb like death had finally grown bored of waiting. Just the crown. Bone-white points, each one curved like a fang. Gold threaded through them in veins, old and tarnished, pulsing faintly with red light. It did not sit on the creature’s head.

His usual disdain was finally replaced by respect, and I couldn't help but grin seeing that change. The ceremony began with Abdiel reciting countless formulas in ancient languages. It lasted a small eternity before Nicor and Amanda finally passed him our crowns. They resembled tangled silver and black roots forming dome shapes with rows of diamonds on top. Abdiel lifted the King's crown from the velvet pillow and placed it on Ash's head. Then he placed the Queen's crown on mine. "I now announce you as the King and Queen of the Dark Realm!" he called out, and the gathered crowd burst into cheers and applause.

And I mean a ridiculously huge intake of it. It is for protection, I know that. Not for me though, from me. Probably injected into my system frequently so I wouldn’t break free of these chains and find my way out of the Labyrinth by falling the pillars to their last one. I feel a presence behind me. And the scent would have been of blood and an aftermath stench of war if here did not forbid a smell that is not its own. It is no other person than the Umbra Crown himself; the King of Hell (of the Dark)—the nameless monarch.

Then he walked forward and stopped in front of a metal door. The huge metal door depicted the boss of this dungeon. “This is the chief’s room where the Kobold leader resides,” Yao Tai muttered as he raised his hand and slowly pushed the metal door. Inside the vast room, a Kobold wearing full body gear was sitting on a throne. Leather armor, a pair of gauntlets, leather pants, and black gloves. Kobold was holding a spear in his right hand. Beside the Kobold, there were four other Kobolds kneeling on the ground. It has the same position when someone is kneeling or seeing a king. Well, this Kobold was the king of this dungeon.

"I overheard the other girls talk about it in the hallway, I got the recap of it." "Help a girl out?" She asked. "He has three younger brothers and one sister," I said to her. "The current King's name is Carrick, his wife's name is Mayela." "Yeah, that seems like the important parts." She looked out of the window for a few seconds. "The guy's name is Sebastian right?" I started laughing. "Yeah." I answered. A few tables over I heard the redheaded girl sigh loudly, clearly annoyed by our ignorance. Tessa seemed to notice it too and raised her cup of coffee.

The others would not be so easy to influence. Ahead Aurora could see a large stone throne surrounded by gnomes in leather armor. On the throne sat a particularly stout gnome with a crown of twisted metal and jewels on his head. It was equal parts gaudy and beautiful. His red scraggly hair, similar in color to Birger's, flew untamed in every direction, giving the king a wild look. Most unnerving of all were his sickly yellow eyes. They were too big and too round for his head, almost as if in response to the darkness underground they had grown to let in more light. With such eyes and a hooked nose, he looked like a deranged owl.