Beyond the Throne: The Monarch's Return

Click.

Ian's fingers brushed against the hidden groove on the bed. Without warning, the bed creaked and shifted, revealing a door concealed beneath it.

Drrr…

The mechanism pushed the bed forward, uncovering an entrance. At first glance, it resembled the gaping maw of a dungeon. Ian's lips curled into a smirk.

"It's here."

The entrance exuded an air of foreboding. Its crude construction was unbefitting of a duke's underground air defense, and the markings etched around the frame—phrases in an ancient tongue—spoke of something far older.

Ian descended the stairs, each step swallowed by darkness.

'It's darker than I expected. One misstep and I'll fall flat.'

The basement reeked of damp stone and stale air. The oppressive atmosphere seemed to hum with whispers, as if the walls themselves carried secrets. Shadows shifted, and the faint howls of wind crawled under Ian's skin.

'Karan's power… If I'm right, it'll be mine.'

Ian's eyes adjusted to the gloom, and a gleam of confidence returned to his face. After what felt like an eternity, his boots hit solid ground.

Tap.

He had reached the end of the staircase. But something was wrong.

"What? No…"

Ian stood in a hollow chamber, its walls bare and unyielding. He searched every inch of the space, but it was undeniably empty.

'This can't be. Where is it?'

His chest tightened as doubt crept in. Had Karan lied? Could this place, thought to hold incredible power, be nothing more than a forgotten relic?

'Damn it… If this was a bluff, my plans are ruined.'

As Ian pondered his next move, his gaze caught faint engravings on the floor. Strange patterns intertwined with indecipherable ancient script. He crouched, tracing the carvings with his fingers.

'An ancient language… but I can't read it.'

Ian had studied the ancient tongue during his princely education, but never in depth. Frustration bubbled up as he stared at the markings.

'If Karan gained power here, why can't I sense anything?'

He clenched his fists. The room's silence mocked him. With no other choice, Ian turned back to the stairs. Perhaps a book on ancient languages could unravel the mystery.

But before he could climb up…

Groooo…

A deep rumble echoed through the chamber. Ian froze. The sound wasn't coming from below but above.

'The door!'

He whipped around and dashed toward the staircase. A silhouette appeared at the entrance, framed by the faint light.

Silver hair glinted in the gloom, and a familiar, mocking grin stretched across the figure's face.

'Karan.'

The Duke's enigmatic third son stood there, radiating mischief. Ian's heart sank as Karan's voice broke the tense silence.

"There's nothing here, you fool."

"No! Stop!" Ian shouted, bolting for the exit.

But it was too late.

Bang!

The door slammed shut, plunging the passage into pitch-black darkness. Ian cursed, pounding on the unyielding surface.

"Damn that brat…"

He felt along the walls, desperate for a hidden lever or button, but there was none. Trapped, Ian leaned against the cold door, his mind racing.

'How did I not notice him?'

Karan's cunning was legendary, even as a child. A volatile genius, his erratic moods made him an enigma even among the Duke's heirs.

'Did he follow me? Does he already have the power?'

The thought sent a chill through Ian. But there was no time to dwell on it. He needed to find a way out.

Just as despair began to creep in, the chamber stirred to life.

"What…?"

A faint glow spread across the floor, illuminating intricate patterns. The carvings Ian had touched earlier now pulsed with light, as did the walls. Strange figures and beasts seemed to leap out of the stone, their lifelike expressions both mesmerizing and unsettling.

Ian's eyes locked onto the central figure: a man crowned in gold, sword raised in command. Below him, seven warriors battled monstrous creatures.

'The Seven Virtues…'

Ancient myths spoke of these legendary beings, yet seeing them depicted here felt surreal.

Before Ian could process the sight, new letters burned themselves into the wall:

[The one who seeks power. Prove your conviction.]

Ian's pulse quickened. Could this be the key?

Another line appeared below:

[Prove it with blood.]

Ian swallowed hard. The demand was clear, even if the reasoning wasn't. Drawing a dagger from his waist, he hesitated only for a moment before slicing his palm.

The room seemed to shudder in anticipation.

Outside, Karan strolled away, a smug grin on his face.

"Look for it all you want, little prince. There's nothing there," he muttered to himself, recalling the sight of Ian trapped in the dark.

The hidden chamber beneath the Duke's estate was shrouded in mystery. Generations of dukes had sought its secrets, only to deem it an elaborate waste. The ancient carvings were dismissed as historical nonsense—a tale of the kingdom's founding glorified in stone.

But Karan saw things differently.

'This place isn't meaningless. There's something more…'

Though he had never uncovered the truth, he couldn't resist toying with Ian.

"How long will you last, little prince?" Karan mused, his voice dripping with mockery. "Three days? Four? Let's see if you're as clever as they say."

Yet even Karan, for all his bravado, had never dared to stay in the chamber once the door was sealed. The darkness was too absolute, the silence too oppressive.

As he turned a corner, two familiar figures blocked his path: Nathan and Galon.

"Young Master Karan? Why are you here?" Nathan's tone was sharp, his suspicion clear.

Karan's grin widened.

"Why not? I came to greet our dear prince, but it seems he's not in."

Nathan's eyes narrowed. Karan's reputation preceded him, and this sudden "visit" only deepened his wariness.

But Karan's silver tongue and mischievous charm masked his true intentions.

'Let's see how this plays out.'