The doors to the High Narrative Throne opened.
The Airien Knights entered alongside the Champions, but their arrival carried none of the confidence that usually accompanied them.
Kainen walked among them, his expression hollow. His shoulders were tense, his eyes fixed somewhere beyond the room. He looked like someone who had witnessed something terrible and had yet to find the words to describe it.
Aprexion stepped forward.
"It happened suddenly," he reported. "We couldn't anticipate it. Not even with my precision."
His jaw tightened.
"Wherever the students are now, trapped in the Free Abyss… they must be experiencing something deeply traumatic."
The room grew heavy.
"They're facing their own inner worlds," another Knight added. "Their fears. Their regrets. Everything they've tried to bury."
Aprexion glanced toward Centron.
"We believe Henry may be the most vulnerable to corruption. And if he falls, Jack could be affected in ways we cannot predict. We need to get them out."
King Centron listened without interrupting.
Then he spoke.
"The opposition is part of their growth."
Several Knights stiffened.
"If they truly wish to remain themselves as power, they must master every part of themselves—including the parts they have not yet faced." Centron's voice remained even. "Even if they must be broken before they understand how to rebuild."
Kainen finally looked up.
"When do we stop trying to romanticize suffering?"
His voice was not loud. That made it worse.
"Look around you. More people are becoming stagnant. Sometimes, Centron… sometimes the Ghouls are right."
Silence.
The Champions exchanged glances. Even they seemed caught off guard. A Knight had openly challenged the King—not with anger alone, but with a truth that could not be dismissed so easily.
Centron remained calm.
But for the first time, his pause lasted longer than expected.
"We already knew your story, Kainen," he said at last. "You embarked on a dangerous journey without activating your Avia. You didn't even know who you were. And yet, you stood strong."
Kainen's gaze drifted away.
"And now look at you."
The words were meant as recognition. Kainen received them like a weight.
Centron continued.
"I'm not blind. I know what is happening. I could have intervened."
His eyes moved across the gathered Knights.
"But at what point does guidance become control? At what point does protecting someone prevent them from becoming themselves?"
He let the question settle.
"I never said Avia was easy. Nor did I say the Ghouls were wrong about everything. But in the end, the results will reveal who you truly are."
Kainen lowered his head.
"I…"
His voice faltered.
"I'm just tired of losing students I get attached to."
The confession seemed to strip away the armor he had carried into the throne room.
For a moment, there was no seasoned Knight. No mentor. No warrior entrusted with the future of young Airiens.
Just someone who had cared—and was afraid of caring again.
Aprexion looked toward the floor.
"Even I can't help but care about them."
Centron said nothing.
The silence that followed was no longer the silence of a King delivering judgment.
It was the silence of someone who understood that a philosophy could be true—and still hurt the people who believed in it.
The King in Disguise
Centron rose from his throne.
For a moment, golden light gathered around his silhouette. Then his form began to change—not simply shifting shape, but rewriting its own presence.
His broad shoulders narrowed. His golden beard vanished. His features softened into those of a striking woman, dressed in an elegant, dark gown that moved like liquid shadow.
A femme fatale.
She sauntered down the steps of the throne, heels clicking against the polished floor.
Her gaze drifted across the Champions and Knights, lingering on each of them as though she could see straight through their armor and into their souls.
Several groaned silently.
That look.
That here we go again look.
The new Centron stopped, tilted her head, and pretended to ponder something.
"Don't you know," she began, holding her chin, "that you guys were once… well, them?"
She glanced around.
"Or did you forget your memories?"
Her eyes settled on Hela.
"Hela. You once hated your affinity because it reminded you that people were disgusted by what you aligned with. Insects. You hated yourself, and the Ghouls certainly had their fun with that."
She folded her arms, smiling.
"And now look at you. You could suplex anyone's ego if you wanted to."
Hela snorted.
She didn't deny it.
Centron turned toward the Champions.
"Same goes for you."
She pointed at Aminator.
"You practiced self-mastery alone, becoming a hermit in a broken world that had convinced itself it was whole."
Aminator remained still, though a faint crease appeared between his brows.
"Jake. You refused to abandon justice, even when it was inconvenient. Your coin defies physics because you refuse to bend to the rules."
Jake glanced at the coin in his hand.
"Still does," he muttered.
"Kate. You revolutionized your cyber city by being a trickster in a world obsessed with proper training."
Kate's grin widened.
"Finally, someone appreciates the craft."
"Elitor. You were once considered weak—until you discovered you could lift things without touching them and proceeded to put everyone to shame."
Elitor gave a modest shrug.
"Vericane. You were forced to kill your own father—the very man who taught you how to defeat the ice monster. Only to discover that the monster was him."
Vericane's expression darkened, but he held Centron's gaze.
"And yet, you overcame that."
She moved on.
"Cration. Your air delivered your people from the clutches of the Ghoul Titan. You brought them out of its belly when all hope seemed lost."
Cration's eyes lowered briefly.
"Victoria. You proved to your people that their fire could never be dismissed."
Victoria stood tall.
"And Ronda…"
Centron's expression softened.
"People thought you were useless. But your glue didn't merely connect physical things. It connected people."
Ronda looked away, touched.
The woman spread her arms.
"If you hadn't gone through those struggles, you wouldn't have become the mentors these children needed in the first place."
A brief silence followed.
Then Ractor, the Speed Knight, raised a hand.
"Yeah, we get it. But you didn't have to turn into a girl to prove it."
Centron chuckled.
"Oh, please. Sometimes it's good to tease."
She swayed her hips with exaggerated elegance.
"You really think I'm some boring figure with a golden beard, sitting on a throne and doing nothing?"
Her smile turned mischievous.
"I created Avia. I can be whoever I want."
Ractor shook his head.
"Unbelievable."
"Thank you."
The humor faded as Kainen stepped forward.
"I believe the Ghouls are using Henry to break Jack."
Centron's attention shifted to him.
"Their words were vague," Kainen continued, "but I know it. Henry is the key. Whatever they're doing to him, it's meant to reach Jack."
Centron studied him for a moment.
Then she sauntered closer, her expression unreadable.
"They'll come back," she said.
Her voice was softer now.
"They will."
She paused, then gave him a small, reassuring smile.
"And if they don't… we'll go get them ourselves."
She extended a hand.
"Deal?"
Kainen hesitated, then took it.
"Fine."
Centron's smile returned.
"Good."
And for the first time since the Knights had arrived, Kainen looked as though he could breathe.