THE GENERAL'S DISGRACED HEIR

The darkness coalesced, reality crystallizing from void into form. Obsidian walls rose from nothingness, their surfaces drinking in what little light remained.

Above, countless chandeliers of black crystal hung suspended, each containing a single point of twilight that cast more shadow than illumination. The air itself felt thick, as if the very atmosphere had transformed into a tangible manifestation of power.

Beneath these monolithic structures, the floor shimmered with an ethereal glow, imbued with ancient, forgotten magics. Every measured step resonated with the echoes of lost civilizations, stirring dormant memories of ages past. Whispers of mystic lore danced in the heavy silence, promising hidden truths and revelations yet to be unveiled in this realm of eternal night.

And there, dominating the far end of the materializing throne room, sat an impossible throne. It stretched upward like a wound in reality, carved from a single piece of night-black stone that seemed to absorb not just light, but hope itself.

The throne's surface rippled occasionally, like black water disturbed by an unseen force, each movement sending whispers of ancient power through the chamber.

Upon it, a boy sat with casual elegance, one hand propped beneath his chin, darkness clinging to him like a second skin. His clothes, if they could be called that, seemed to be fashioned from living shadow itself, constantly shifting and reforming around his small frame.

The contrast between his youthful appearance and the overwhelming aura of ancient power that emanated from him created a disturbing dissonance.

David's breath caught in his throat. That face—those features frozen in eternal youth—he knew them. Had lived them. Memories of Vespera's nightmare flooded back, memories of being Winter, of experiencing his life, his losses, his descent into something beyond human comprehension.

"Winter," he whispered, the name escaping before he could stop it. The word seemed to hang in the air, each syllable carrying the weight of recognition and dawning understanding.

Beside him, Vespera's grip on his hand turned painful. Her previous fear transformed into something harder, sharper. Hatred blazed in her eyes, cold enough to freeze hell itself. The temperature around her dropped several degrees, frost crystallizing in the air with each breath she took.

"How curious," Winter spoke, his voice carrying the lilt of childhood but resonating with ages of power. Each word seemed to echo not just in the chamber, but through time itself.

"The challenger who bested my doorkeeper." His eyes opened for the first time, and David felt reality crack.

This wasn't the presence of a demon lord or an ancient beast. This was something else—something that had watched civilizations rise and fall like leaves in autumn, something that had existed before the concept of time itself had fully formed.

David's teeth clenched as he fought against the overwhelming pressure that threatened to drive him to his knees. His muscles strained against the invisible force, every fiber of his being screaming in protest.

Winter's gaze drifted to Vespera, and his voice boomed through the chamber despite its casual tone. The sound seemed to come from everywhere at once, as if the very walls were speaking. "Why does my love bare her teeth so? Have you forgotten your place at my side?"

"Cut the act!" Vespera's shout echoed off the obsidian walls, her voice carrying years of suppressed rage and betrayal. "I am no longer your servant, your majesty." She spat the title like poison, each word laced with arctic venom.

Winter's eyebrow rose, his attention shifting back to David. A smile began to spread across his boyish features—not the innocent grin of a child, but something ancient and wicked. That simple expression carried millennia of malice, of watching mortals struggle and fall before him.

"Challenger," he addressed David directly, "you've taken my subordinate." It wasn't a question. The words carried an undertone of amusement, as if he found the very concept entertaining in its audacity.

David raised his hands in an exaggerated shrug, matching Winter's casual demeanor despite the crushing pressure. His fingers trembled slightly from the strain, but his voice remained steady. "Soon you'll be mine as well."

The laughter that burst from Winter's throat wasn't amused—it was the sound of glaciers cracking, of mountains splitting apart. Anger rolled off him in waves that made the very air vibrate, each pulse of emotion threatening to tear reality apart at its seams.

"A mere human..." Winter's voice dripped with disdain. With a flick of his wrist, the darkness coating the throne room's walls began to move. It peeled away in strips and chunks, coalescing into towering humanoid figures.@@novelbin@@

Obsidian titans took shape, each easily fifteen feet tall, manifesting elaborate armor and weapons from the same darkness that birthed them. Their forms were perfect, terrifying in their beauty, each one a masterwork of shadow given form.

"Then come," Winter commanded, "and make me."

David called upon his skills, darkness gathering around him in response. But before he could act, a system window materialized:

[Nightveil Embrace has sensed its kin]

David stared at his hands, watching as the familiar darkness of his armor rippled like living shadow. The connection... what did it mean? The darkness that clothed him seemed to resonate with the shadows surrounding Winter, as if they shared some fundamental nature.

He didn't have time to ponder. Winter's presence suddenly expanded, filling the chamber with pressure that made the previous wave feel like a gentle breeze. The boy-king's face contorted with rage, transforming his childlike features into something otherworldly and terrible.

"Challenger," he snarled, each syllable carrying enough force to shatter stone, "where did you obtain that armor?" Explore more stories at My Virtual Library Empire

David's twin daggers materialized in his hands, darkness dancing along their edges. He matched Winter's earlier mocking tone, dropping into a battle stance. "Come and find out."

The obsidian titans raised their weapons in unison as Winter rose from his throne, darkness writhing around him like a storm of serpents. The air itself seemed to grow heavier, colder, as if reality was holding its breath.

The game was about to begin.

[System Notification] Quest Updated: Defeat the Night King

Difficulty: SSS Reward: ???

Warning: Death is permanent in this domain.