Erza stood at the ridge, the first light of morning casting a silvery haze over Solstice Basin. No birds sang. No wind stirred. Just the silence of something ancient awakening beneath the surface. He could feel it in his marrow.
Three suns ago, the defector had warned them of this place.
Now they saw it for themselves.
Massive spires of cracked obsidian jutted from the crater like shattered ribs. In the center, a Gateframe loomed—two crescent arches meeting at the top, adorned in pulsating star-runes and deep void channels. All around it, figures in black and violet robes moved in careful procession. Wards ignited the air with a dull hum. Ritual stones glowed faintly, forming a corrupted Constellation Grid—a reverse-mirror of Leo.
"They've twisted the celestial flow," Ryse whispered. "That grid is inverted. They're creating a starfall event—but backwards. Not calling down light, but calling up shadow."
Selene crouched beside him, eyes fixed on the warlocks below. "We're not just looking at a summoning. This is a coronation."
Erza's gaze hardened. "Explain."
Kale spoke next. "The Gate isn't just a passage—it's a throne. Whoever steps through and survives the Eclipse Passage emerges as something... more. A King of the Umbral Path."
Erza's hands clenched. He knew now what this was.
The Shadow Consortium wasn't just opening a door—they were anointing a ruler.
And worse… they already had a candidate.
The first rumble came as the sun rose fully.
The Gate pulsed, and the air shimmered as if the sky itself were flinching. One by one, the cultists around the Gate began chanting—not in words, but in raw emotion. Pain. Vengeance. Hunger. It echoed through the basin like a twisted heartbeat.
A figure emerged from the ritual circle.
Tall, regal, and cloaked in robes woven from cosmic black. His presence distorted light around him—his steps leaving craters of withered stone. He removed his hood slowly, revealing a face carved in sharp edges, eyes burning not red, but a deep celestial void with white eclipses inside.
Kale froze. "That's... impossible."
"Who is it?" Erza asked.
Ryse answered, barely a whisper. "The King That Never Was. The Crown Prince of the Hollow Star. I thought he was a myth."
Selene spat. "That's no myth. That's our executioner."
The man raised his hand.
Instantly, dozens of the lesser cultists fell to their knees—bodies disintegrating into wisps of constellation ash. He absorbed them without pause.
He spoke.
"Let the first fire die. Let the Black Flame rise. I take the name Noctyros, Sovereign of the Eclipse Path. King of the Second Sky."
The Gate flared open behind him.
Twin spirals of shadowlight spun in reverse, creating a vortex of crushing gravity. The Gate wasn't opening outward—it was drawing the realm inward, collapsing ley-lines and compressing the ambient mana of the entire region.
If they didn't stop this now, not only would Noctyros ascend—the entire southern skyfield would destabilize.
Erza stepped back from the ridge.
"We strike," he said.
"Now?" Kale asked. "We're not ready."
"We won't get another chance. He hasn't entered the Gate yet. We can sever the ritual before the final line's cast."
Selene nodded, already unsheathing her blades. "We aim for the ritual stones. Disrupt the Constellation Grid. That'll kill the stability."
Ryse loaded his rifle with a glowing solar cartridge. "I'll take the high ridge and provide covering fire."
"And me?" Kale asked, wide-eyed.
"You seal the Gate if it starts to open."
"And if it's already halfway open?"
"Then we drag him back in."
The assault began with fire.
Erza descended like a falling star, Solar Core blazing around him. He landed in the circle, shattering two ritual stones with a groundburst of heat and light. Selene was a shadow at his side, carving through warlocks with balletic precision. Ryse's shots rang out like thunder—each one ripping through a caster mid-chant, sending the delicate grid into disarray.
Kale stayed back, hands weaving ancient sigils into the air, sweat already pouring from his brow.
Noctyros turned, cloak flaring, eyes locking with Erza's.
Their gazes met—solar fury against voidlight.
"You should not be alive," Noctyros said, voice echoing like ancient bells.
"I get that a lot," Erza replied, then lunged.
Their clash cracked the basin.
Leo's Flame surged from Erza's arms, forming claws of radiant heat. He struck—but Noctyros parried with bare hands, absorbing the impact with shadow-density reinforcement.
Erza spun, kicked upward, and launched a flame burst from his heel.
Noctyros caught it—his palm turning black and molten—but it didn't burn him.
"You bear the Flame of Leo," he said, smiling faintly. "But your spark is still a candle."
"And yours is just a parasite," Erza snarled.
The fight escalated.
Fire met void in bursts that shattered stone and warped gravity. Selene destroyed the final ritual pylon just as Noctyros hurled Erza into the remains of the Gateframe.
The Gate trembled, half-open.
Kale screamed from the ridge. "It's collapsing! I can't hold it!"
Noctyros began walking toward it—his body shedding light like oil.
Then Erza rose, bloodied, but eyes burning gold.
He planted his feet.
And roared.
"LEO'S FURY!"
The mark on his chest ignited. A golden lion—pure flame and constellation—erupted from his Core and slammed into Noctyros, forcing him back, tearing the Gate off balance.
Kale finished the seal—sigils chaining the Gateframe in a ring of light.
The collapse began.
Noctyros turned back with a snarl. "This is not over."
With a final pulse of voidlight, he vanished into the spiraling shadows.
And the Gate shattered.
The basin fell quiet.
Steam rose from cracked stones. The sky bled starlight, but balance slowly returned.
Erza knelt, chest heaving.
Selene joined him, pressing a bandage to his side.
Kale collapsed on the ground, utterly spent.
Ryse slid down from the ridge. "Well," he said breathlessly. "That was... biblical."
Erza looked to the sky. His bond with Leo still burned inside him—but fainter. Like something had shifted.
They hadn't won.
But they'd stopped the first coronation.
The real war… was only beginning.