The boy said nothing.

But the moment those words echoed across the arena—

“My prince…”

—the entire stadium erupted into chaos.

Nobles stood violently from their seats.

Knights grabbed their swords.

Even the king himself rose from the black throne above the arena walls.

Because King Vaelor’s bloodline had been dead for fifteen years.

Executed.

Burned.

Erased from history.

That was the official truth.

And yet—

the child standing in the arena looked exactly like the statues hidden beneath the old royal cathedral.

The same silver-black hair.

The same sharp eyes.

The same calm expression that once terrified enemy kingdoms.

General Rowan’s body trembled harder with every second.

Because memories were crashing back into him like war drums.

The final night of Red Hollow.

Fire consuming the capital.

The screams.

King Vaelor handing a wrapped infant to Rowan moments before the castle collapsed.

“Take my son.”

“Run.”

The old general had failed.

At least—

that was what he believed for fifteen years.

His eyes locked onto the boy again.

“You survived…”

The child tilted his head slightly.

“Barely.”

The king above the arena suddenly slammed his staff against the stone floor.

“Enough.”

Silence fell instantly.

King Mordren slowly descended the royal stairs surrounded by armored guards.

Unlike Vaelor—

Mordren wore no warrior armor.

Only black royal robes lined with gold serpent symbols.

Yet somehow—

his presence felt colder than every knight in the arena combined.

His sharp eyes remained fixed on the child.

Then on Nightfang.

For a brief second—

fear appeared inside the king’s expression.

Before disappearing again.

“You dare bring that cursed blade here?” Mordren asked quietly.

The child answered calmly.

“It belongs to my family.”

Murmurs spread everywhere.

The king smiled thinly.

“Your family died long ago.”

The boy slowly lifted Nightfang.

The massive dragon-steel sword hummed deeply.

SHHHHHHNNNN.

Dark silver energy spread faintly across the blade.

And suddenly—

the arena torches flickered blue.

The king’s smile disappeared instantly.

Because Nightfang only awakened for the blood of House Vaelor.

General Rowan lowered his head completely.

There was no doubt anymore.

The last prince stood before them.

Then—

one royal minister screamed from the stands:

“He’s a fraud!”

The crowd immediately clung to the accusation desperately.

“Yes!”

“No child could survive Red Hollow!”

“He stole the sword!”

The king’s face softened slightly.

Hope returning.

Until the boy quietly spoke again.

“My father once broke General Rowan’s left shoulder during training beside the northern cliffs.”

Rowan’s eyes widened.

“Nobody else knew that…”

The boy continued.

“When I was four, I hid beneath the war table during the Winter Council and spilled ink across Lord Harren’s maps.”

Several nobles turned pale instantly.

The child slowly looked toward the king.

“And the night Red Hollow burned…”

His voice finally cracked slightly.

“…you locked the palace gates before the citizens could escape.”

Silence.

Absolute silence.

Because only someone inside the royal palace that night could know that truth.

King Mordren’s eyes darkened murderously.

The child took another step forward.

“I remember the screams.”

The old general suddenly stood and drew his sword.

Not against the child.

Against the throne.

“I gave my life to the crown,” Rowan growled.

“But if the prince lives…”

His voice shook violently.

“Then the throne belongs to him.”

Gasps exploded throughout the arena.

Half the royal guards immediately raised weapons toward Rowan himself.

The kingdom stood one breath away from civil war.

Then—

the king began laughing.

Softly at first.

Then louder.

“You truly think blood matters anymore?”

He slowly raised one hand.

And from beneath the royal platform—

something enormous moved.

CLAAAAANK.

Massive chains rattled beneath the arena floor.

The stone ground trembled violently.

Crowds screamed and backed away.

General Rowan’s face suddenly drained of color.

“No…”

BOOOOOOOOM.

The center of the arena exploded upward.

A gigantic iron gate rose from beneath the battlefield.

Behind it—

stood a monster.

A colossal black beast covered in armor and chains.

Part wolf.

Part dragon.

Its glowing red eyes scanned the arena hungrily while smoke poured from its jaws.

The crowd panicked instantly.

Because everyone recognized the creature from ancient war stories.

The Bloodfang Beast.

King Vaelor’s final weapon during the old wars.

Thought destroyed after Red Hollow.

But it wasn’t dead.

It had been imprisoned.

The king spread his arms proudly.

“Do you know why your father lost?”

The child stared silently at the monster.

“Because mercy makes kings weak.”

The beast suddenly roared.

RRRRRRAAAAAAAHHHHHH.

The shockwave shattered nearby windows.

Knights stumbled backward in terror.

Even Rowan froze.

Because Bloodfang recognized only one master.

King Vaelor.

And if the beast sensed the prince—

it would either kneel…

or tear the entire arena apart trying to reach him.

The king smiled cruelly.

“Let us see whether royal blood still means anything.”

The chains snapped.

The monster charged instantly.

THOOOOOOM.

The entire arena shook beneath its weight.

Crowds screamed and fled while guards were crushed beneath gigantic claws.

The beast’s burning red eyes locked directly onto the child.

General Rowan shouted desperately:

“RUN, MY PRINCE!”

But the boy never moved.

Wind slowly spiraled around him.

Nightfang began glowing brighter.

SHHHHHNNNNN.

The dragon-steel blade awakened fully for the first time in fifteen years.

Ancient silver runes ignited across its surface.

And suddenly—

the child remembered something.

A memory buried beneath fire and blood.

His father kneeling beside him in the royal garden.

“One day,” King Vaelor had whispered softly,

“Nightfang will choose you.”

The beast lunged.

The entire arena believed the child would die.

Then—

the boy raised the sword.

CLAAAAAAANG.

The impact froze the stadium.

Because the gigantic monster had stopped inches from him.

One massive claw pressed against Nightfang’s blade.

The child’s boots slid backward across stone—

but he held.

Impossible.

No human child should possess that strength.

The beast lowered its gigantic head slowly.

Sniffing him.

The arena became deathly quiet.

Then—

something terrifying happened.

The monster whimpered.

A deep broken sound filled with grief.

General Rowan’s eyes filled with tears again.

Because Bloodfang recognized him.

Not as Vaelor.

But as Vaelor’s son.

The boy slowly lowered the sword.

And gently placed one hand against the monster’s armored face.

“You remember him too…”

The beast closed its glowing eyes.

The crowd stared in disbelief as the creature that once slaughtered entire armies knelt before the child.

King Mordren’s expression shattered completely.

“No…”

His voice trembled for the first time.

“That beast obeys only the king.”

The child looked toward the throne.

“No.”

Nightfang pointed directly at Mordren.

“It obeys the rightful one.”

The arena exploded into chaos again.

Several knights instantly dropped to one knee.

Then more.

And more.

Because Ashkar’s oldest law was absolute:

Whoever commanded Nightfang and Bloodfang together carried the soul of the crown itself.

Mordren stepped backward slowly.

“You fools…”

Darkness suddenly spread beneath his feet.

Black smoke spiraled unnaturally around the throne.

The air itself grew colder.

The child’s expression changed instantly.

Because he recognized that darkness.

Fire flashed inside his memories again.

The burning palace.

Screaming servants.

Black smoke moving through corridors like living shadows.

His mother crying.

“Don’t let him touch you!”

The boy’s eyes widened.

“You…”

The king smiled.

And the smile no longer looked human.

“Now you remember.”

SHHHHHKKKKK.

Black veins spread across the king’s neck.

His pupils vanished completely.

“The throne was never my goal, child.”

The shadows behind him twisted violently.

Something enormous moved inside them.

“I only needed the royal bloodline to open the gate.”

The entire sky above Ashkar suddenly darkened.

Thunder exploded across the kingdom.

And far beneath the arena—

something ancient awakened.

The ground shook violently.

CRAAAAAAAACK.

Massive fractures spread through the stone battlefield.

Citizens screamed outside the arena walls.

General Rowan’s face turned white with horror.

“The crypt…”

Mordren raised both arms toward the storm.

“For fifteen years I searched for the final heir.”

His voice deepened unnaturally.

“And tonight…”

The shadows behind him split open.

“…the seal finally breaks.”

BOOOOOOOOOM.

The arena floor exploded apart completely.

An enormous black hand emerged from beneath the kingdom itself.

Not flesh.

Not stone.

Something older.

Ancient.

Covered in chains the size of towers.

The crowd collapsed in terror.

Because beneath Ashkar—

buried below the royal crypts—

slept the thing King Vaelor died imprisoning.

The Shadow Titan.

The real monster of Red Hollow.

And suddenly—

the child understood the horrifying truth.

His father had never died fighting enemy armies.

King Vaelor sacrificed himself sealing the titan beneath the kingdom.

And Mordren—

had betrayed the royal bloodline to free it.

The titan’s gigantic glowing eye slowly opened beneath the shattered arena.

The king laughed wildly.

“The age of kings is over.”

But the child stepped forward.

Nightfang blazing silver in his hands.

Bloodfang roaring beside him.

And for the first time—

the prince’s calm expression vanished.

Now—

he looked exactly like King Vaelor.