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The girl, her body still trembling and drenched in cold sweat, cast a nervous glance at Ralkar.
She tried to hide the fear coursing through her, but her wide-open eyes betrayed her.
The guttural sound that echoed in the cabin, accompanied by the vibrations shaking the walls, made her heart race uncontrollably. Every creak of the wood made her shrink a little more, as if she were expecting the whole world to collapse on her at any moment.
Ralkar, however, remained utterly unconcerned.
With a slow, almost irritating deliberateness, he extended a hand toward the girl’s head. His fingers, rough yet surprisingly gentle, rested on her tangled hair, and in a playful gesture, he ruffled it as if everything were a joke.
—You’ve already puked in my cabin —he said in a mocking tone, his eyes gleaming with that usual spark of irony—. Just try not to screw it up any further, will you?
She, who for a moment had forgotten her terror due to Ralkar's unexpected action, shot him a severe look, her brow furrowed in a mix of disbelief and reproach. It was as if she were trying, with that expression, to restore the dignity he had just shattered with his comment.
But before she could open her mouth to retort, Ralkar had already turned away. He walked toward the cabin door with steps so light and carefree that they starkly contrasted with the chaos surrounding them.
The walls continued to twist, the creaks growing louder, and that guttural voice still echoed, demanding answers with increasing fury.
—Wait here a moment —Ralkar said over his shoulder, with the same indifference one might use when talking about the weather—. I’ll go deal with our noisy visitor.
The girl blinked, stunned, watching as the man, who seconds earlier had shown her rare compassion, returned to his usual attitude of unshakable arrogance.
Every step he took toward the door seemed to completely disregard the looming danger, as if the terror consuming her was, for him, little more than a passing nuisance.
She couldn’t help but feel small, insignificant, in the face of the forces now swirling around her.
But at the same time, deep in her mind, something began to shift. For the first time, something more than fear occupied her thoughts. Ralkar, with his carefree attitude, had drawn a small internal laugh from her, though she wouldn’t admit it, not even under torture.
“How can he be so... so insolent?” she thought, a mix of frustration and wonder filling her.
Ralkar opened the door without the slightest concern for his appearance. His bare feet rested on the cold wood, and his wrinkled, dirty clothes made it clear he hadn’t made the slightest effort to look presentable.
When the door creaked open, the first thing he saw was that the darkness of the world seemed thicker, as if the very air had been absorbed by the void accompanying those beings.
A hundred ethereal figures stood tall, surrounding the entrance of the cabin. They were tall, far too tall, and their slender bodies, covered in armor made of shadows, seemed to flicker between existence and oblivion. The light emanating from the small fragments covering them pulsed faintly, as if they were alive, connected to some ancient darkness.
The helmets they wore showed no facial features, but from the elongated slits, a pale and menacing glow absorbed the light around them, creating a halo of stillness and terror.
The beings’ flowing cloaks extended like dense smoke, sometimes disappearing and reforming, creating an unsettling sense of instability.
Their long, formidable spears pierced the ground with a dull sound, as if they had not only pierced the earth, but the very fabric of the world.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
Behind these imposing figures, at a prudent distance, a thousand more beings gathered.
They were different, more fragile in appearance, as if their bodies were made of bundles of shadows and spiritual energy that could not remain stable.
They moved constantly, crumbling and reconstituting themselves in an endless cycle, with faces that were nothing more than dark voids. Some wore crudely carved white masks, with cracks that emitted a faint phosphorescence, adding a spectral air to their already terrifying presence.
Ralkar let out a sigh.
The pressure of hundreds of eyes, or whatever those beings used to see, weighed on him, predatory gazes, waiting for the slightest sign of weakness.
But Ralkar wasn’t in the mood to feed their expectations.
He crossed his arms and leaned slightly to one side, propping himself against the doorframe with the same lazy attitude someone would use while waiting in a boring line.
—Is all this for me? —he asked with feigned surprise, tilting his head—. I have to say, I expected a warmer welcome. Or at least something less theatrical.
One of the beings in the front row, wrapped in its armor of shadows, stepped forward, and the ground beneath its foot sank slightly.
A heavy silence followed the movement.
Ralkar wasn’t intimidated. He stepped forward, barefoot, digging his heels into the cold ground, and lifted his chin with an arrogance that bordered on mockery.
—So this is the best you’ve got to offer? —he sneered, a cocky smile on his face—. A hundred glowing shadows and a bunch of misshapen specters. I feel... flattered.
The being took another step forward, and a vibration resonated in the air, like the distant lament of voices trapped in a vortex of shadows.
When it spoke, its voice did not come from its mouth, but resonated directly in Ralkar’s mind, deep and echoing, as if from the depths of the abyss.
—Mortal... —said the voice, with a gravity that seemed to carry the weight of a thousand souls—. You have profaned the boundaries of the Realm of Uldraxis.
Ralkar barely blinked at the accusation. His only response was a heavy sigh, laden with barely contained impatience.
The truth was, the magnitude of the power before him wasn’t intimidating. Not because he wasn’t aware of the danger, but because this type of situation wasn’t new to him.
—Profaned? —he repeated, as if tasting the word in his mouth, making it sound empty and meaningless—. Is that what we’re calling an unscheduled little visit now?
The figure that had spoken didn’t flinch, nor did it show signs of anger. The other hundred specters remained motionless, as if time had frozen for them. Only the slight undulation of the shadows that made up their armor revealed they were, in fact, present in that reality.
—King Uldraxis, Lord of the Eternal Shadows, does not tolerate insolence —boomed a voice from the figure, so guttural and deep it seemed to resonate with the very essence of reality—. He has given you the chance to account for yourself. Do not waste it.
Ralkar tilted his head slightly, as if considering the words, but all that emerged from his lips was a soft, almost inaudible laugh, though it carried a hint of implicit mockery.
—Look, I don’t know who this Uldraxis is, but if it’s that guy with the deep voice who keeps yelling about "his kingdom"—he made a broad gesture with his hands, as if inviting anyone to correct him—, I suggest you send him a note telling him to relax. It’ll do him some good.
Uneasy murmurs arose from the ranks of creatures behind, but the armored figures held their ground, though the air around them seemed to thrum with suppressed hatred.
—Silence! —roared the figure that had spoken, and the echo of his voice rumbled like distant thunder, snuffing out any murmur.
—You are reckless, mortal —he growled, stepping closer—. You dare mock what you do not understand.
Ralkar merely returned his gaze with unsettling calm.
—What I don’t understand, my dear friend —he said with sarcasm, raising an eyebrow—, is why you're making such a fuss over something that, frankly, isn’t any of your business.
He stepped forward a few more paces, his bare feet on the cold ground, as if the presence of a hundred weapons pointed at him meant nothing.
The metal hummed in unison, vibrating with the tension of the guards ready to strike him down at any moment. Anyone with even the slightest sense of survival would have hesitated, maybe even trembled, but he simply ignored them.
The echoes of the spears rose, forming an unbreakable line of contained death, but his attention was elsewhere.
Ralkar lifted his gaze, and his eyes fixed on the figure dominating the scene: King Uldraxis, Lord of the Eternal Shadows.
At first glance, King Uldraxis didn’t seem to have a fixed form, his silhouette cloaked in shadows that writhed, alive, embracing his body like a mantle of liquid darkness.
That inhuman figure, tall and slender, shifted in height as Ralkar observed him, as if his being was a distortion of reality itself. His face, when visible, appeared as a cluster of diffuse fragments, veiled by the shadows, but what stood out most were his eyes. They were not ordinary eyes. They were bottomless voids, pits where a thousand forgotten lives screamed in silence.
Ralkar raised an eyebrow, barely impressed. It was as if, somehow, that darkness felt familiar to him.
—So… you must be the great Uldraxis —he said—. Lord of Shadows and all those formalities, right?
The silence that followed was crushing, so much so that even the shadows seemed to freeze, suspended in the air.
Uldraxis didn’t move, but something in the atmosphere shifted, as if the world itself held its breath.
—Your audacity is pitiful —the king’s voice echoed, deep and distant, reverberating in Ralkar’s mind—. You are but a speck in the vast abyss of my kingdom. Your words hold no weight here.
Ralkar let an uncomfortable silence fill the air, staring at King Uldraxis without so much as blinking.
—That’s something you’ll have to judge after hearing me out —he finally said, with a calm so deep it resonated in the air.