The silence that followed the Prime Stone's detonation was not the quiet of peace, but the profound hush of a world utterly, violently changed. Smoke, acrid and metallic, coiled upwards from the raw, smoking earth where Soren had just detonated. The very air still trembled, charged with residual power.
Groans, sharp and pained, then choked into gurgles, rose from the scattered elite guards who had accompanied Valerius. From the depths of the chaos that had consumed Commander Valerius, an unearthly shriek tore through the air—a sound of pure, ancient agony, quickly stifled. Before anyone could process the Commander's fate, before the surviving guards could even twitch a muscle, the shadows around them began to move with a chilling, predatory sentience.
They weren't the chaotic, defensive blasts Soren had previously unleashed. These were different: impossibly deep, obsidian-sharp, twisting into slender, elegant blades that danced with macabre grace. They erupted from the very ground, from the crevices in the shattered dock, from the dense, pre-dawn mist itself. Each shadow-blade moved with a will of its own, an almost surgical precision, carving through armor and flesh alike. The guards, barely having time to register the impossible attack, were sliced apart with terrifying, bloodless efficiency. Limbs fell, bodies crumpled, and within seconds, all that remained were mangled forms that quickly dissolved, consumed by the deepening gloom that seemed to emanate from nowhere and everywhere at once. The massacre was swift, silent, and absolute.
Then, the shadows coalesced, twisting and writhing, not into a weapon, but into a form of profound, silent authority. A fleeting image shimmered above Null's unconscious body for a breathtaking second: a crown, not of light or obsidian, but of pure, intricate shadow, radiating silent regality. It solidified, resting for the briefest moment above Null's head, a fleeting glimpse of the Unwritten King's true regalia, before dissipating like smoke, absorbed back into the swirling darkness.
From the heart of this consuming gloom, a figure began to emerge. It was impossibly tall, ethereal yet solid, draped in robes that seemed woven from the very fabric of night itself. Its form shifted, almost like liquid shadow given grotesque shape, with eyes that burned with ancient, cold fire, pinpricks of malevolent light in the vast darkness of its face. Its movements were fluid, almost too smooth, hinting at a power that transcended physical form. And, from beneath its robes, a thick, scaled black tail gently swayed, disappearing and reappearing into the undulating shadows, solidifying its terrifying otherworldliness. This was no mere man, no creature of the Wonder World's mundane nightmares. This was a being of immense, terrifying power, radiating an aura that made the hair stand on end and sent a primal, instinctual chill down the very spine. This was the entity Soren knew as Fang.
Maya instinctively clutched Ashley, pulling her back with a strength born of pure terror. Ashley, despite her typical composure, buried her face into Maya's side, trembling uncontrollably, her small body shaking with a fear she rarely showed. Arata stumbled backwards, his face pale with utter dread, falling to his knees, eyes wide and unblinking at the impossible sight. Akane, usually a beacon of calm strength, gasped, a hand flying to her mouth, her eyes wide with unadulterated horror. Even Kael, the hardened smuggler who had faced down kingdom enforcers and monstrous beasts, dropped his curved blade with a clatter, his eyes wide with a fear Soren had never seen on him. They were all frozen, suspended in a moment of sheer, mind-numbing dread, confronted by a force that mocked their understanding of reality.
Fang turned its glowing, ancient eyes towards them, and the very air seemed to press down, becoming thick and suffocating, making every breath a conscious effort. Its voice, when it came, was not a whisper nor a roar, but a deep, resonant rumble that echoed in the very bones, a voice that spoke of eternity, of primordial chaos, and of forgotten gods. It was a voice that held the weight of countless eons, a casual pronouncement that felt like a decree from the very cosmos.
"The boy lives," Fang rumbled, its gaze finally settling on Null's unmoving form at the edge of the crater. The weight of its stare seemed to compress the very ground, causing cracks to spiderweb across the remaining dock planks. "Though his mind is but a fresh canvas. A necessary reset. The Prime Stone was too volatile, too fractured for what comes next. Its fragments, scattered like dying embers, are the last anchors to his forgotten past. An unfortunate but unavoidable consequence of his desperate choice to wield power beyond his current capacity."
It then turned its terrifying gaze, sharp and piercing as ancient ice, directly to the terrified group of friends. Each of them felt its eyes on them, dissecting their very souls, stripping away their composure. "You are his companions. You, the human girl with the burning stone," it seemed to address Maya, whose heart hammered against her ribs. "You, the smaller one with the sharp sight and colder touch, yet deep compassion," it acknowledged Ashley, who whimpered softly, pressing closer to Maya, but whose eyes, despite her terror, remained fixed on Fang. "You, the boisterous heart of courage, though now filled with despair," it passed over Arata, who could only choke on a sob. "And you, the quiet, watchful soul, whose mind seeks order in chaos," it concluded with Akane, whose analytical mind was reeling from the impossible. "And you, the guide of shadows, who knows these paths better than most." It finally settled back on all of them, a chilling, all-encompassinpg presence. "You share his burden. For it is by your hands, your guidance, that he must reclaim what was lost."
A wave of profound, absolute truth washed over them, chilling them to their core. This was not a request. This was a decree, an inescapable fate laid upon them by a being of cosmic power, a demand that bypassed their wills entirely. Resistance seemed as futile as denying the sunrise.
Fang gestured with a shadowy limb, and the scattered fragments of the Prime Stone seemed to shimmer into view across the dock, faint glimmers of iridescent light amidst the wreckage, each one pulsing with a tiny, almost imperceptible warmth. They were like scattered jewels, beckoning, but now, knowing what they truly were, they seemed less like treasure and more like cursed artifacts. "The Prime Stone is shattered. Its essence, his memories, the very knowledge of the Unwritten King, are scattered across the realms. Each piece is an Echo. A fragment of his existence, a spark of the power he once held. Your task is to help him find them. To guide Null to his fragmented past, to reclaim these Echoes. For only by regaining these pieces can he truly understand the full scope of his being, and the purpose of the Unwritten King."
It paused, its ancient eyes piercing. "This is not a choice. It is destiny. His survival, and yours, depend on it. For the truth of his being, the truth of the Unwritten King, lies not only within those Echoes, but within the slumbering form of Umbros."
The statement hung in the air, a new, profound mystery, heavier than any physical burden, a name echoing with forgotten myths. Umbros.
Fang's gaze then flickered back to Null, a flicker of something almost akin to… anticipation? Calculation? "Umbros currently sleeps within his body, drawing strength from his very essence. A perilous connection, forged in the depths of the void, from a pact made in a time long forgotten. As he gathers the Echoes, Umbros will stir. This merging, this slow awakening, is critical. When the time is right, you will face forces fargreater than this King's enforcer. Powers that stir in the void, entities that seek to control or destroy the balance, to corrupt the very essence of the Unwritten King's rebirth. You are tasked with preparing him, with guiding Null on this arduous journey. I cannot interfere directly. My role is merely to observe, to guide when necessary, and to ensure the proper path is taken. His journey of self-discovery must be his own. Only then can he truly become who he is destined to be. Only then can the true Unwritten King be forged, a new force in a realm teetering on the edge of oblivion."
With that final, earth-shattering pronouncement, Fang's ethereal form began to dissipate, dissolving back into the deep shadows from which it came, melting into the very essence of the ruined dock. It left behind only the lingering scent of ozone, the metallic tang of fresh fear, and the stunned silence of Soren's friends, staring at Null's inert form and the shimmering "Echo" fragments. They were confronted by a terrifying reality far larger than they could have ever imagined, a destiny they had no choice but to accept.
The first rays of dawn began to pierce the heavy mist, painting the ruined dock in hues of bruised purple and cold gray, illuminating the fresh carnage. The sheer silence was deafening, broken only by the lapping of waves against the shattered piers. The bodies of the guards, sliced by unseen blades, lay gruesome in the harsh morning light. Valerius was nowhere to be seen, likely consumed by the abyssal depths or disintegrated by the explosion.
Maya was the first to break, trembling. She stumbled towards Null, falling to her knees beside him amidst the splintered wood. Her hand hovered over his face, unable to touch him, afraid to confirm what her heart already knew. His features were the same, yet utterly alien. His new hair, the striking yellow-gold with stark white streaks, radiated a soft, almost ethereal glow that seemed to absorb the nascent dawn light. The subtle, cross-shaped pulse beneath his closed eyelids was unsettling, a constant throb of power and emptiness.
"Soren?" she whispered, her voice cracking, pleading with a boy who no longer knew that name. "Soren, can you hear me? It's me, Maya."
No response. His breathing was shallow, his expression vacant, as empty as the crater beside them. He was present, yet completely absent.
Ashley, moving past her initial terror, knelt beside Maya, her small hand reaching out and gently touching Soren's forehead. Her touch was surprisingly steady. "He's… cold," she murmured, her sharp eyes scanning his face for any flicker of recognition, any hint of the friend they knew. "And he feels… empty. Like a shell." Her voice, usually so clear and direct, was now filled with a profound sorrow, recognizing the devastating cost of his power, the terrible trade-off for their survival. The reality of his complete memory loss hit her with a physical ache.
Arata, his bravado utterly shattered, sank to the ground, tears silently streaming down his face, leaving clean tracks on his dust-streaked cheeks. "He doesn't know us, does he?" he choked out, looking from Null to the shimmering fragments, then back to Null. "He doesn't remember anything. Horuto… the alley… all of it. It's just… gone." The thought was unbearable. His best friend, his brother in all but blood, was gone, replaced by this blank slate, a stranger wearing his friend's face. The grief for his lost friend mingled with the fresh terror of Fang.
Akane, though visibly shaken, maintained a fragile composure, her mind already racing, trying to find a logical framework for the impossible. She looked from Null to the dispersed fragments, her analytical mind grappling with Fang's decree. "The 'Echoes'," she whispered, her voice barely audible, but filled with a dawning, terrifying resolve. "He needs them. We need to find them. That's… that's our mission now." It was a rallying cry, a desperate anchor in the storm of their fear, a practical step forward in the face of overwhelming despair. She understood the weight of the task.
Kael, having slowly picked up his blade, surveyed the wreckage, his gaze sharp and calculating, assessing the new, impossible odds. He approached the group, his face grim, his usual mercenary caution replaced by a grudging acceptance of the unbelievable. "That was… a dragon," he muttered, referring to Fang, a shudder running through him. "And it just dropped a hell of a burden on your laps. Across the realms, it said? That's… a long damn journey." He looked at Null, then at the scattered fragments. "These 'Echoes'… they're everywhere, are they? That changes everything. Your little alley hideout won't be safe anymore." His voice was laced with a weary resignation, the understanding that his brief, lucrative involvement had just spiraled into something infinitely more dangerous, far beyond simple smuggling.
"What do we do?" Arata asked again, his voice cracking, looking utterly lost, his eyes pleading for a solution. "We can't just leave him here. And the kingdom will be coming. That explosion… it felt like the world just screamed. They'll know something happened here. Someone will be sent." The immediacy of the danger was pressing.
Maya wiped a tear from her eye, her jaw set, a flicker of her usual fierce determination returning. "We take him. We find a safe place, first. Somewhere far from here. Then… we start. We have to." Her eyes met Ashley's, then Akane's, then Kael's, a silent promise exchanged between them. They were scared, profoundly so, but Soren – Null – needed them. He was still their friend, even if he didn't know it. Their bond, forged in fire and shared trauma, was all that remained of the boy they knew.
Ashley nodded, her small hand still resting on Null's cool skin, a quiet strength emanating from her. "We protect him. We find the pieces. Every single one." Her voice was soft but held an unwavering resolve, a core of steel beneath her quiet demeanor. The danger was immense, the task impossible, but she wouldn't abandon him. He had saved them, time and again. Now, it was their turn to be his anchor.
Slowly, carefully, they lifted Null's unconscious body. He felt surprisingly light, almost ethereal in their arms, a mere vessel for ancient powers and a lost identity. The yellow-gold hair with its white streaks was a stark contrast to the ruined dock, a beacon of otherworldly change. As they began to move, carrying him away from the wreckage, Maya glanced back at the scattered, shimmering Echo fragments. They were everywhere now, tiny sparks against the desolation, radiating a faint, almost imperceptible call. Each one a piece of a shattered memory, a part of the Unwritten King's legacy, waiting to be rediscovered. And each one a destination in a journey that would redefine them all.
The sun finally broke through the heavy mist, bathing the devastated docks in a cold, unforgiving light. The world seemed to hold its breath, poised on the brink of an unknown future. Volume 2 closed on a world irrevocably changed. Soren, the boy driven by grief, was gone. In his place was Null, a blank slate, a vessel for a sleeping god, now dependent on the very friends he had risked everything to protect. Their shared destiny had just begun, a perilous quest across realms, battling higher beings, guided only by the cryptic whispers of Fang and the distant allure of the scattered Echoes. The greatest challenge, and the ultimate test of their bonds, lay ahead.
END OF VOLUME 2