They appeared.
Beneath the Veil's lithosphere stretched a hidden city—demonic in design yet impeccably ordered. Sculpted from molten earth and etched with ancient runes, these buildings were not meant for wandering souls. This was a city built for purgators alone.
The arena lay shrouded in oppressive silence. The air hung heavy with decay and dread. Heat pressed down like an electric furnace sealed tight. Jagged stalactites clung to the molten rock ceiling. Sparse sprouts of stubborn life clawed at the barren soil. Far off, a volcano pulsed, its magma veins glowing like a slumbering beast's heart.
Micafer stood frozen, eyes drinking in the infernal landscape.
So much I still don't understand…
Before them rose a towering obsidian structure. Unfenced, as tall as four stories, it hovered just above cracked earth. Its hollow foundation hinted at depths below. A massive iron door dominated the front—carved with a sun on one panel, a moon on the other.
Two purgator guards stood like statues at either side.
As Micafer and Kaelion drew near, the guards simultaneously dropped to their knees, bowing until their foreheads touched scorched stone. One rose to open the iron doors.
Kaelion's voice cut through the silence, firm and controlled.
"Gon, summon the Five Pillars to the Concord Hall."
He turned to the other guard. "Leo, take him to the Lazarus Pit. Restore his strength. Then see that he eats well."
"In your service, Master Kael."
Without hesitation, Gon vanished in a swirl of smoke. Leo bowed once more, then took Micafer's arm and faded like a whisper.
Micafer watched, quietly awed.
The order. The discipline. The reverence.
These purgators did not merely serve—they worshipped. They moved like shadows, bowed like priests. Every gesture precise, deliberate, almost beautiful.
What bound their loyalty? Fear? Or something deeper—a belief forged in fire and blood?
He didn't know. But it ran deep, molten iron in their veins.
Kaelion's tone softened.
"My lord, will you join us at the Concord Hall?"
Micafer nodded, curiosity sharpening.
What awaited a king here?
---
The Chambers of Sacred Shadow
In a dim, shadow-lit room, five maids sat silently. None dared speak without purpose.
Smoke rippled and formed into Gon, stiff and formal.
"The King has arrived. Lord Kaelion summons Lady Sera."
The maids exchanged sharp looks. One rose swiftly.
"Message received," she said, voice steady though her heart raced. She crossed the obsidian floor and slipped through a door without knocking.
Inside, she dropped to the floor, ready to report—only to be cut off.
"How dare you enter so rudely!"
The voice was sharp, feminine, commanding.
Seated before a mirror was a dark-haired woman—her rose-pink lips curled in disdain, white pupil-less eyes piercing. Her horns curved elegantly. She wasn't preparing for a meeting. She was simply enjoying a stroll.
"M-my apologies, my lady," the maid stammered. "Lord Kaelion and the King request your presence at the Concord Hall."
"The King?" Sera blinked, intrigued. "Already? He must not have enjoyed Earth."
She smiled into the mirror.
"Good timing."
Rising, lips curved in a smirk, she declared, "I'll be there."
The maid's heart thundered—spared by fate.
---
The Concord Hall
The Concord Hall was a masterpiece of sacred dread. Circular walls forged from volcanic obsidian, embedded with bones and ancient remains. The floor shimmered like black crystal, reflecting a grand table surrounded by six thrones—each carved in ancient purgator tradition. One throne stood taller, woven from both Heaven's garden and Hell's forge, commanding the head.
Four Pillars already sat, tension thick in the air.
Kaelion and Micafer entered. The Pillars rose hesitantly and bowed.
Micafer felt the weight of a leader's role, yet remained a stranger among them. Faces unfamiliar. An agenda unknown.
Still, he stepped forward with quiet dignity. His heart burned with resolve—if he was not yet the king they expected, he would be the king they needed.
He reached the head throne. Shadows fell away, clarity rising—his vision sharper since the transmigration.
Kaelion took his place beside him. The others followed silently.
"Where is the Third Pillar—Sera?" Kaelion asked.
From the shadows, Sera appeared, leaning playfully on the table, lips teasing.
"What did I miss?"
"Sit. We begin," Kaelion ordered.
"Ohh… yes, my handsome lord." She slid into her seat, eyes flicking to Micafer. "He's handsome," she whispered.
Kaelion snapped his fingers.
Papers formed in each hand—crafted from shadow, inked in white.
Micafer read silently:
[Meeting Outline]
Coronation of the New King
Matters Arising: Evolution Begins
King's Speech
Not much, but enough to hint at something monumental.
Kaelion broke the silence.
"The coronation will be held two bells from now."
Two bells? Micafer remembered—there was no sun or moon here. Time bent within the Veil.
Galan, the Second Pillar, spoke, voice poetic.
"Can we trust our ears to hear the name of he who rules the Veil?"
"That will be announced at the coronation," Kaelion replied.
"Not necessary," Micafer interrupted. "It is fine now."
"If you insist, my lord," Kaelion smiled.
Micafer stood tall.
"I am Micafer. The Perfect Veilborn. Your King."
The room softened. Ease rippled through the Pillars. Their expectations met—perhaps surpassed.
"And you are?" Micafer asked.
Galan bowed solemnly.
"I am Galan, Second Pillar—bearer of Stillness and Sorrow. Pillar of Death… and the Black Creed of Truth."
Micafer chuckled inwardly. Always poetic.
Sera giggled—not at Galan, but at her king's warm smile.
A gruff voice cut in.
"May we proceed?"
Fraudrin—the Fifth Pillar—arrogant and impatient.
Kaelion moved to rebuke, but Micafer raised a hand.
"Proceed."
Fraudrin cleared his throat.
"Our sleep is over. A king has been given—the key to balance. We must forge our own gate at the Judgment Line of Souls."
Tension thickened. Hope and fear intertwined.
Micafer whispered:
Not just a gate… but a god behind it.
Azurak, the Fourth Pillar, finally spoke, cold and even.
"What's our first step?"
Kaelion answered, "We follow the King as he conquers both powers—Light and Dark—to ascend as Archshadow."
Micafer frowned. Haven't I already done that?
"You must conquer yourself," Kaelion said gently. "Your Light and Dark selves—separately."
"We'll cover that—six bells after the coronation."
Sera clapped softly.
"So it begins. The Veil will be known soon. Lord Micafer, my loyalty is yours."
"I won't let you down, Princess."
A faint pink rose bloomed on Sera's pale gray skin.
"Then it's settled. The King has spoken," Kaelion said, rising. "Two bells from now, Throne Hall."
"Dismissed."
In unison, the Pillars vanished into shadows.
Only Kaelion and Micafer remained.
"Come, my lord," Kaelion said. "Preparations await."
Micafer nodded. Together, they disappeared into darkness.
Yet a question clung to him:
Conquer my Light and Dark… separately?