Chapter 1209 A Crowned Prince, Again

Chapter 1209 A Crowned Prince, Again

Giant Garden, once a vibrant testament to the natural world, now stands as a chilling symbol of chaos. Rumors swirl amidst the ruins, painting a picture of a world forever altered. Though the ruling elite of Yalen desperately seek to suppress the truth, word has spread like wildfire, carried by the terrified remnants of the once mighty Yalen Army.

The Empyrean of Yalen, a figure shrouded in myth and secrecy, has emerged from centuries of seclusion. For generations, the Empyreans have ruled with whispered promises of stolen powers and the illusion of eternal order. Yet, in Giant Garden, this facade of invincibility crumbled.

Witnesses claim the Empyrean's arrival was a desperate gamble – a bid to end the life of Arthur Netherborne, the enigmatic outsider who has defied the Empire at every turn. However, this confrontation did not end in the Empyrean's triumph, but in his abject defeat.

Reports are fragmented and laced with terror. They tell of an outsider wielding impossible powers, black lightning that tore through the Empyrean's defenses, and of a storm unlike any seen before. But it is not the raw power that chills the soul, but the aftermath.

The Empyrean of Yalen is no more. Slain, not on some glorious battlefield, but in a humiliating rout before his own forces. Yet, even death has not brought silence.

The Yalen Army speaks in terrified whispers of a new power that has taken hold of Giant Garden. Spectral forces, remnants of the outsider's wrath, linger. Those who dare approach describe a chilling sight – a field of vibrant flowers blooming amidst desolation, a grotesque mockery of life amidst the ruins. This chapter is updated by nov(e)(l)biin.com

As the news took the world by storm, a heavy silence filled the palace of Yalen. The throne room of the Yalen Palace, once a symbol of unchallenged might, crackled with tension and dread. Before the ornate throne lay a coffin, a crude, hastily assembled box that mocked the grandeur of the room. Inside, draped in what remained of regal finery, lay the Empyrean of Yalen, his once commanding form now forever silenced.

The Empyrean of Sourna, his presence a vortex of barely contained rage, had delivered this gift. With a final, contemptuous glare at the young Yalen King, he had vanished in a burst of raw power, the echo of his departure leaving a lingering chill in the room.

The King, a man thrust into a power he had never been groomed for, stared at the coffin and then at his advisors. "Can we... can it be used?" His voice was a hoarse whisper, the words seeming sacrilegious even as he uttered them. "Can... my father's remains grant us the power to survive?" Before any could formulate a response that danced around the monstrous question, a rift in space tore open. Guards surged forwards, weapons drawn, as two figures emerged – Sier, the exiled prince of Yalen, and Zas, the spectral mage whose teleportation talents had once been deemed too dangerous by the Empyreans.

Sier's smile was devoid of warmth. "The Empyrean is dead," he stated coldly, "but his existence was saturated with violet mana. His body, even devoid of life, holds the potential to strengthen a seer... to awaken dormant powers within our bloodline."

The King recoiled slightly, revulsion warring with a desperate need within him. His son, however, seemed unfazed by the monstrous pragmatism of his proposal. This was the monster he has created, the embodiment of ambition. "How can I be certain this isn't some elaborate game? Years of exile, a bitter estrangement...now you waltz in here, a stranger cloaked in newfound power, and demand the crown. How can I know you won't use that same power to usurp me the moment I turn my back?"

Sier laughed, a harsh, joyless sound. "This isn't about you, father," he spat, the word dripping with years of resentment. "This is about the survival of our Kingdom, of the bloodline we both inherited. Are you content to be the last lord of Yalen? To have our legacy end with your whimper, while the vultures feast on our corpse?"

The King shuddered. The harsh truth of Sier's words struck him with brutal force. He had fallen, yes. In his desperation, he was about to commit an act that would forever stain their lineage. Yet, the looming public execution of the remaining Agard Family and his plans made him reconsider. They needed an heir, someone with power to strike fear in the hearts of those who would dare covet their kingdom.

After a heavy silence, the King nodded, the movement stiff and filled with a resigned bitterness. "Very well. The crown is yours... once again."

Sier's grin was sharp but lacked the satisfaction of true victory. He was a pawn, however powerful, in a desperate game orchestrated by others. "Begin preparations," he commanded, addressing the assembled advisors. "I will reclaim my place as crown prince."

The King watched his son, a strange mix of relief and a lingering unease warring within him. Then, a flicker of softness touched his worn features. "Sier," he began, his voice surprisingly gentle, "Do you wish to reclaim your birth name?"

The question hung in the air, heavy with unspoken weight. For a moment, Sier's façade cracked. His eyes widened, a flash of vulnerability crossing his features before a shutter slammed down, masking his emotions.

"Yes," Sier said, his voice steady. "It is time."

Zas watched from the side, his frown betraying his objection to this entire unfolding of events. As the entire palace was thrown into disarray by the death of their master and the return of their crowned prince, Zas approached Sier. The two of them were heading toward the tailor for some clothes befitting of a prince. "What changed, Sier?" asked Zas with confusion. "I thought you wanted to take back what is yours, not ask for it."

"Arthur killed the empyrean of Yalen," said Sier as he walked forward, eyes burning with life. "How can you not understand the impact this will have on the world, and on Yalen?"