Chapter Eleven : Stranger of Shades
Issac planted himself between Janai and the twisted figures closing in, muscles trembling, breath sharp with fear. The disfigured men—skin cracked with scorch marks and veins glowing like molten iron—stared at him with twisted fascination.
"What is that form of power?" one growled, voice warped as if spoken through broken glass. He lunged first, a punch sweeping in from Issac's left. Issac—still recovering from parrying the massive hammer strike earlier—swerved right to evade, only to feel a sudden heat building behind him.
A barrage of fire spiraled through the air.
He sensed the attack—his white pupils flickered—Zone ready to burst—
Then the light in his eyes sputtered and died.
What? His heart lurched. Why isn't it surging? Why now? This has never—
The fire crashed into him, hurling him into a pile of stacked lumber. Smoke curled from his scorched shirt as he gasped for breath.
"Ahh, what's wrong, little one?" another mocked, tilting his grotesque head. "Your fancy power… not working anymore?"
Their laughter, jagged and cruel, echoed across the yard as Issac forced himself upright. He tried again—willing the Zone awake—but the moment the white flare sparked behind his eyes, it vanished like a snuffed candle.
Janai, hiding behind a cracked stone pillar, clenched his shaking fists. "Come on… you can do this," he whispered through trembling lips. "Where did all that power go…?"
The men approached with predatory leisure, each activating their Elemental Laws—flames kindling, metal twisting, wind stirring around them. Issac tried to stand, but his legs betrayed him, buckling beneath their weight.
Not now. Not here.I still have a long way to go.
A hulking opponent conjured a sledgehammer of iron and swung at Issac's skull. The blow connected with sickening force.
Issac tumbled across the ground, blood pooling beneath his cheek.
Every time he reached for his Zone, he found only emptiness.
Is this how I end? Without even fighting back? Why won't you answer me?
The creatures took turns stomping on him. Bone cracked. Vision blurred. Janai's horrified breaths filled the air as he sank to his knees, tears streaming freely.
Issac's consciousness flickered in and out. Sound distorted—voices becoming distant, watery echoes.
It's getting quiet… Am I… dying? I can't. I still have things I must do…
A shadowed boot slammed onto his ribs. His lungs failed to draw air. Faces flashed with each impact: his mother's gentle eyes, his father's stern pride, Klaus's grin, Idris's laugh, Lena's stubborn glare… and finally his grandfather's wrinkled smile fading to black.
Pain vanished.
Cold washed through him.
The world dissolved—blood, fire, screams falling away—and darkness swallowed everything.
He awoke standing.
A vast throne room stretched before him, silent and ancient. The architecture was unfamiliar—pillars cracked, banners torn, marble veined with blackened scorch marks. This place felt haunted by war and time.
Where… am I?
He forced himself forward, footsteps echoing in the void until he reached a throne carved from pale marble. It was fractured yet imposing—like a fallen monument refusing to crumble.
Memory hit him all at once, a dam bursting open.
I was fighting… those men… I tried to trigger my Zone and… it failed. Am I… dead?
"No," a deep voice answered from behind him. "Not exactly dead. You still have a little time before your life essence fades completely."
Issac spun around, panic spiking. That voice—why did it feel familiar?
From the shadows stepped a tall figure draped in worn black hakama pants and a kimono sash crossing his bare chest. His hair hung in long, unkempt braids, a black eyepatch covering his right eye. His left eye glowed—white and burning with unmistakable Zone.
Issac staggered back, throat dry. "Who… who are you?"
The man said nothing at first, studying Issac with a strange mix of disappointment and curiosity. He walked past Issac deeper into the ruined hall, stopping at the throne.
"I said I need answers!" Issac's voice cracked—fear mixing with desperation. "I don't know what's happening. One moment I'm fighting, and then I'm… here. My Zone isn't responding, and I'm running out of time! So, yes—who you are is definitely my concern!"
The man lowered himself onto the cracked throne with a slow, tired sigh. Laughter welled up unexpectedly from his chest—echoing loud and unhinged off the marble walls.
"You're still too young to understand, Prince Issac…" he chuckled, wiping tears from his one visible eye. "But one day, all of this will make sense."
Prince.
The title hit like a blade to the gut.
Issac's hands balled into fists. He slammed the arm of the throne, voice trembling with rage.
"I don't care who you think I am. I just need to leave this place. There's someone out there I need to save!"
The man only smiled wider. "That's the point… You can't just leave." He pointed mockingly at Issac's expression. "What's the matter? Sad there's no way home?"
Issac snapped.
He grabbed the man by his kimono sash and hauled him up, eyes wild. "I'm not leaving without helping him! So talk. Now."
The man's expression fell perfectly still.
"No one has ever disrespected me this way…" His voice dropped to a cold monotone. "Not in all my years serving the kings of Atlas."
Before Issac could process the words, his body collapsed. A crushing pressure pinned him to the ground—lungs burning, vision dimming.
He looked up in terror.
The man hadn't moved at all.
His single white eye burned brighter—Zone radiance flaring like a sun.
A Zone user… like me…
"Bingo," the man whispered. "If you'd held onto me a moment longer… you'd be dead."
Gradually the pressure eased, allowing Issac to gasp in air. He forced himself upright, shaking but determined.
"So… not only can you use Zone… you can read my thoughts?"
"Maybe," the man replied with a shrug. "Depends on the person."
Issac's pulse thundered. How many secrets about me does he know? How many truths about Atlas?
The man sat back down upon the throne, this time with a heavy, weary posture.
"I know everything feels sudden," he murmured. "If only your parents had told you everything from the very beginning… things would've been easier."A bitter smile crept across his face."And maybe you would have shown me a little respect."
Issac looked up, heart pounding. "I'm sorry. I just… I need to protect Janai. And yes… I—"He swallowed."I feel guilty. For what happened in Atlas."
Flashbacks of the festival… the flames… the falling banners… screams drowning out celebration. Blood soaking royal blue.
"How do you know about that?" Issac whispered.
The man leaned forward, glowing eye narrowing."Because I saw it all through your eyes. And I know how weak you felt. Isn't that what you're trying to stop?"
Issac's breath hitched, dread thick in his chest.
The man's voice softened—almost fond, almost cruel:
"Young Prince…"A pause. A smirk.
"…or should I say—Issac Eisenhart."